Fic Request #1
Pairing: Sasori/Sakura
Prompt: “let me be your puppet one more time.”
Rating: NC-17!!!!!!! SMUT AHOY!
Sakura lay sprawled on the floor, her hair looking like fallen cherry blossoms framing her head.
Sasori knelt over her and let his hand trace the lines of her clothes. Sakura caught one of his
cold hands and held it.
“Before you go...” Sakura breathed, “let me be your puppet one more time.”
The smile that crossed Sasori’s lips was cold, cruel, soft, and seductive. “You say that as if
we are to never meet again.”
“Not like this.”
“No. Not like this,” Sasori agreed.
Sakura closed her eyes and felt the intangible threads of chakra wind through her body, emerging
from various joints, thin strings of power. She succumbed to the utter abandon of not having to
think, not having to coordinate precisely timed neural pulses to make her body move the way she
desired. The lack of control was, in a twisted way, intoxicating. She felt Sasori move her
neck, making her look up. She felt her spine straighten, making her sit up. Her fingers and
arms flexed, giving her an initial push up and her legs balanced to let her stand. She caught
Sasori’s eyes and the smallest of smirks found its way onto his face. Sakura felt her arm move,
felt her hand close around the zipper to her shirt. The zipper was slowly pulled down, exposing
her undershirt. Her arms coordinated to let the tank-top fall away from her, before a timed
action of her back, arms, and torso allowed her skort to fall down her legs, leaving her shorts
visible. Her gloves were pulled off, her shoes untied and shucked, leaving her bare save for
skin-tight spandex.
Sakura could only breathe, the eroticism of helplessness holding her captive as much as Sasori’s
chakra strings. She felt her fingers curl around the edge of her undershirt and slowly pull up,
across her stomach, snagging momentarily on her chest before working around her head. The
undershirt slid off her hands before they were brought down to her sides to grip the waist of
her shorts. They were pulled down around her hips, thighs, shins, and left to pool on the floor
amid other scattered articles of clothing. She was left only in her bra and panties. Her bra
was unhooked and slid down her arms, and her panties were guided to the floor. She was
completely bare to Sasori’s approving eyes.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t let me make you an actual puppet,” he murmured. “Your
body, your skills, are magnificent.”
“I’m flattered,” Sakura said softly, just a mild hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Sasori chuckled. With a flick of a finger, he made Sakura’s hands travel up her stomach,
caressing slowly, before he made her massage her chest, fingers circling and pinching the pert
nipples, thumbs tracing the curves of each boob. Sasori watched, pleased as Sakura began to
sweat. It always amused him that even without exertion her body would become slick, shining in
the dim light, creating a natural polish to the healthy glow of her skin. He made her hands
travel up to her neck, caressing the pulse beating against her skin, then flow in circles down
her body, and Sakura breathing became deeper, harder. Her hands finally made it to her private
and Sakura’s lips parted, her breath catching. Sasori watched with a mingled sense of
fascination and long-forgotten desire, and made Sakura pleasure herself. He could smell the
musky scent of an aroused woman, could see the wetness coating Sakura’s fingers, saw her body
shimmer when she jerked, even though her body was under Sasori’s complete control. He brought
her to the brink of orgasm and then left her hanging, cutting the strings and letting her
crumple to the floor.
A small, sarcastic laugh bubbled up from the trembling pile of flesh, and Sakura murmured,
“Didn’t think you would finish me this time.”
Sasori’s smile was cruel.
“Go, Puppet-Master. We won’t see each other again unless it’s on the battlefield.”
Sasori didn’t offer any comment and instead left without a word, closing the door of the secret,
abandoned cabin they had found, separately, and where they met for the first time.
Sakura’s eyes opened slowly, then closed, and her hand drifted low, where she fantasized of no
control, cold eyes, and even colder hands.
Yes, yes, I know, Sakura is probably tremendously out of chracter. But, c'mon, who doesn't want to be completly helpless sometimes? or it could just be me being weird...
I apologize for grammar errors and hope that you enjoyed it anyway.
Prompt: “let me be your puppet one more time.”
Rating: NC-17!!!!!!! SMUT AHOY!
Sakura lay sprawled on the floor, her hair looking like fallen cherry blossoms framing her head.
Sasori knelt over her and let his hand trace the lines of her clothes. Sakura caught one of his
cold hands and held it.
“Before you go...” Sakura breathed, “let me be your puppet one more time.”
The smile that crossed Sasori’s lips was cold, cruel, soft, and seductive. “You say that as if
we are to never meet again.”
“Not like this.”
“No. Not like this,” Sasori agreed.
Sakura closed her eyes and felt the intangible threads of chakra wind through her body, emerging
from various joints, thin strings of power. She succumbed to the utter abandon of not having to
think, not having to coordinate precisely timed neural pulses to make her body move the way she
desired. The lack of control was, in a twisted way, intoxicating. She felt Sasori move her
neck, making her look up. She felt her spine straighten, making her sit up. Her fingers and
arms flexed, giving her an initial push up and her legs balanced to let her stand. She caught
Sasori’s eyes and the smallest of smirks found its way onto his face. Sakura felt her arm move,
felt her hand close around the zipper to her shirt. The zipper was slowly pulled down, exposing
her undershirt. Her arms coordinated to let the tank-top fall away from her, before a timed
action of her back, arms, and torso allowed her skort to fall down her legs, leaving her shorts
visible. Her gloves were pulled off, her shoes untied and shucked, leaving her bare save for
skin-tight spandex.
Sakura could only breathe, the eroticism of helplessness holding her captive as much as Sasori’s
chakra strings. She felt her fingers curl around the edge of her undershirt and slowly pull up,
across her stomach, snagging momentarily on her chest before working around her head. The
undershirt slid off her hands before they were brought down to her sides to grip the waist of
her shorts. They were pulled down around her hips, thighs, shins, and left to pool on the floor
amid other scattered articles of clothing. She was left only in her bra and panties. Her bra
was unhooked and slid down her arms, and her panties were guided to the floor. She was
completely bare to Sasori’s approving eyes.
“I still don’t understand why you won’t let me make you an actual puppet,” he murmured. “Your
body, your skills, are magnificent.”
“I’m flattered,” Sakura said softly, just a mild hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Sasori chuckled. With a flick of a finger, he made Sakura’s hands travel up her stomach,
caressing slowly, before he made her massage her chest, fingers circling and pinching the pert
nipples, thumbs tracing the curves of each boob. Sasori watched, pleased as Sakura began to
sweat. It always amused him that even without exertion her body would become slick, shining in
the dim light, creating a natural polish to the healthy glow of her skin. He made her hands
travel up to her neck, caressing the pulse beating against her skin, then flow in circles down
her body, and Sakura breathing became deeper, harder. Her hands finally made it to her private
and Sakura’s lips parted, her breath catching. Sasori watched with a mingled sense of
fascination and long-forgotten desire, and made Sakura pleasure herself. He could smell the
musky scent of an aroused woman, could see the wetness coating Sakura’s fingers, saw her body
shimmer when she jerked, even though her body was under Sasori’s complete control. He brought
her to the brink of orgasm and then left her hanging, cutting the strings and letting her
crumple to the floor.
A small, sarcastic laugh bubbled up from the trembling pile of flesh, and Sakura murmured,
“Didn’t think you would finish me this time.”
Sasori’s smile was cruel.
“Go, Puppet-Master. We won’t see each other again unless it’s on the battlefield.”
Sasori didn’t offer any comment and instead left without a word, closing the door of the secret,
abandoned cabin they had found, separately, and where they met for the first time.
Sakura’s eyes opened slowly, then closed, and her hand drifted low, where she fantasized of no
control, cold eyes, and even colder hands.
Yes, yes, I know, Sakura is probably tremendously out of chracter. But, c'mon, who doesn't want to be completly helpless sometimes? or it could just be me being weird...
I apologize for grammar errors and hope that you enjoyed it anyway.