Before you begin reading this, you must take in consideration that in no circumstances am claiming any of the Naruto characters represent in this fanfiction. They are rightfully copyrighted to Kishimoto by the law.
This fic is rated M+, but I'd advice you to think about the things listed in here if you have the urge to read:
violence, vulgar language, a significant amount of sex.
Also, this fic has been revised & edited completely. I do not want to go back into my old on simply because editing and saving is a pain in the ass.
Do not in any way, read this, if you are uncomfortable with what I described.
This is a pairing fic unfortunately, but I can't help myself especially when it comes to the Sasukarin fandom.
Pairings: varies. Sasukarin, Suika, TayuSui, KabuKarin - there's numerous, mostly Sasukarin with a little crack on the side (and also Suigetsu's kind of not gay for Sasuke but ends up liking Karin instead, but still's gay for him, and then other shit but I'll let you look that up for yourself if you don't mind).
Introduction to Waking Up In Boxland
My name is Karin (Uchiha) but he calls me 'Redhead' because he wants to purposefully piss me off, or wants to get a reaction out of me.
I've seen him around before, or I've known him for sometime—but it's not exactly a warm welcome until you've slept with the guy and wake up right next to him in the morning and you're half naked and have your one bra on and one pair of underwear on, and to make me more attractive, I had no pubic hair so he obviously wasn't grossed out, definitely not.
Life can be a given or a regret.
A word of advice: don't accept what life has to offer. It'll just screw you in the end.
And when life gives you lemons, you shove it up Sasuke Uchiha's ass.
I was not expecting to be waking up at 11 in the morning by him and his odor. This is the outcome of drinking— being awoken the next day by a shaved guy that is not possible to grow pubes since he's Japanese and all. To be honest, I think pubes can be sexy. Not on him. But on Swedish guys, and that one Brazilian guy I dated.
When I got wasted I woke up in his room still in Vegas, wrapped in covers and the bed sheets that were wrinkled along the imprints over my body.
I remember when I got up and realized I was naked right in front of him and I caught him staring at my ass, while he didn't even notice he was looking. He's a closet pervert, and unaware of his surroundings around me.
He's socially awkward in front of girls, and I never figured out why in the first place. Or maybe he's just retarded, it runs in the Uchiha bloodline. The only one calm throughout flirting and taking a girl home is his dead brother who deceased somewhere around in 2008.
The nightmare began in 2007, where he told me one of his secrets unexpectedly, and he's not the type to give an open conversation.
He's the type that says "Ok." after you give him 5 sentences of conversation to start something interesting, or moreso – giving him something important like it doesn't matter other then his self-absorbed "fuck off" bitchiness.
All ranting aside, I still have a slight attraction to him.
I'm stuck in Boxland with him, or the famous Las Vegas that has nothing to do with boxes. It's more of a poetic metaphor and deep philosophical meaning: "I'm stuck in a tiny box with him and I can't get the fuck out."
Technically, I would think rational thoughts and not panic and see his face just as terrified as mine in his own bed, but we both screamed and cried "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?", except this was his bed.
So for the rest of Vegas, I'm screwed.
A/N: I personally hate my writing, but we'll see how it turns out.