I do not own Naruto.
A/N: Hello everyone! It's been a while since I've really written much, and I'm trying to get into the habit again, so what better way than a challenge? The 100 kink challenge that I found on tumblr to be specific. There is a link to it in my profile if you are interested in seeing it
This is going to be smutastic guys. Sometimes just pure smut. Actually a lot of times probably pure smut. Trying to make this all connected, but we'll see if I can do that within the challenge. Here is hoping! Anyways. Enjoy!
1. In/by a pond
Hinata's breath hitched in her throat, drawing nonsensical patterns into the dirt with her toe. She resisted the urge to prod her fingertips together, a habit she was still never able to shake off from her childhood. She didn't need her Byakugan to catch a glimpse of the fiery red hair amongst the green foliage of the forest.
"Welcome back," Hinata said, bowing much lower than what was probably necessary. "I hope there were no problems during your travels?"
When Gaara didn't speak, she raised her head and almost forgot to breath. She clenched and unclenched her hands against her thigh and almost wished it was his instead. His gaze lingered a beat longer than it should.
"None," he said, a low rumble in his throat. She imagined–remembered–the same murmur against her throat, feeling his words more than hearing it.
Her mouth was dry as she tried to swallow, dragging her eyes away from his as she looked past towards the guards behind. Their faces as harsh as the desert they came from. "I'm glad," she said almost a moment too late. They said nothing, only followed behind their Kazekage after a slight nod of the head.
She didn't know how it started. Couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he slipped in, weaving himself into her life the same way his fingers grasped into her hair. Sometimes she wondered if it was too long, entangling across her slender throat and restricting the last bits of freedom she had left.
Still, she tried to smother down a smile–the corners still lifting up no matter how hard she tried–when she felt a slip of sand sneak itself into her hand. She buried them into her pocket with a soft crinkle of paper clutched between her fingers.
Training grounds.
Hinata arrived just as the sun was setting behind the trees. She dipped her bare toes into the water, clothes folded in a tight square beside the pond. Gaara wouldn't arrive until well after dark when only ninja's roamed the streets.
But they never ventured out this far, not even as she was a child, hiding beneath the hollowed out roots when everything was too much. When the training was too hard. When there were too many eyes boring into her endless failures. When her heart was shattered.
The water only rippled as she stepped onto the surface, tracing the shapes with her toe as she felt her chakra flow through her body. Here, she had always felt right, whispering into the flowers as her fingers plucked at the grass as a child. Even now only they knew her secrets.
Hinata felt the sand linger before she saw him, her hands cutting through the air as the water followed. They grew heavy and gritty, almost vibrating around her as she moved through the steps of her juken.
She was beautiful, Gaara thought. She always was as he watched her train, her moves more like a dance than an attack as she glided on top of the water. He could watch her forever.
But he wouldn't, not as he stood at the shore, unlatching his gourd and dropping it onto the ground with a thud. The sand beneath his feet shifted, wet and heavy, so different from the hot dry desert he came from.
She didn't stop, the water only rising higher and higher, forming around herself until she's almost engulfed in it. Gaara steps in, his strides long and quick, but it isn't until the water drops and she drags her eyes over his body. His eyes darken with a wildness that everyone thought was gone, and it never fails to make Hinata wet.
And he's on her, hands tangled in her hair, lips smashed against hers, and its hungry–teeth biting into her lips, dragging it into his until she's gasping for breath. His clothes scratch her skin, the sand vibrating around them faster and harder and he drags her closer to him.
His growl is low and deep in his chest. "Two months," he says. His fingers can't stop moving across her skin, digging into her hips until she's moaning into his mouth.
She trembles as he slides his hands up her sides, his hand cupping a breast as he pushes her to shore. He scrapes his hand across her skin and chuckles at the sharp gasp as his fingers rake across her nipple. She's on the ground before she can breathe again, her chest heaving up and down as she tries to catch her breath.
She's always so beautiful. When he leans down to steal another kiss, he parts her thighs this time. He swallows her moans as he slips his fingers in-between, massaging the inside of her thighs.
And she thrashing now, arching into him as an involuntary whine escapes her throat as she tries to thrust against his hand. He pushes her hips down with his own, moving his lips down her throat, nibbling the skin hard enough to sting but not enough to leave any marks.
They couldn't leave anything beyond this place, not even as their moans become swallowed by the rush of the stream. But even that can't quiet Hinata's sharp scream as Gaara engulfs the tip of her breasts the same time he slips two fingers inside her. She's already wet–dripping–so he wastes no more time, thrusting hard and fast.
She tries to swallow her moans, but Gaara doesn't let her. It isn't until she's panting his name, hands digging underneath his shirt. He lets go long enough to shed it, his fingers dragging against her overly sensitive clit when he slips them out. She jerks against him with a cry.
He thrusts against her leg and he's so so hard, but he wants her as desperate as he is. He bites down her stomach, hard enough to hurt. She arches into him, moaning without a care in the word and he feels her wetnesss slide up against his chest.
He looks up at her, everything about him unrestrained, and Hinata can't tear herself away, not as he drags a slow lick up her slit. She's chewing on her own lip, a whine in her throat until he settles, suckling at her lips until she's crying for him. He scrapes his teeth against her clit and he loves the involuntary jerk of her hips, grasping at his hair. She riding him, thrusting her hips into his mouth as he devours her and she's there–almost there.
Until Gaara jerks away and he chuckles as she's sobbing, clutching at him. Gaara just pushes her hands away, grabbing her cheeks with one hand to wrench her face towards his as he kisses her. She doesn't care that she can taste herself on him, not as she's shoving down his pants, thrusting as hard as she can.
He isn't gentle when he jerks into her, setting the pace as desperate as they feel, and she's sobbing in relief this time. It doesn't take long for her to come.
But it's been so long and Hinata was so tight. He wants to be inside of her as long as he can, so he fights against the tremors. He grunts with each thrust and Hinata is wild, unrestrained, crying and clawing into him and he loves it. He loves seeing her like this, losing himself into it, and she's just as lost as he is.
And he leans back, sits up as he grabs her ass and yanks her against his thrust. She's shrieking now, the words out of her mouth no longer making sense. But he isn't any better, the growls coming out of his throat almost animalistic even though he no longer carries Shukaku.
She lets out a high pitch keen, jerking him down and she digs her teeth into his lip hard enough to bleed, and that was enough. He snarls her name, raking his nails down her skin and jerking harder into her as she milks him. Hinata is trembling and it's almost too much now that the desperation is gone. He's panting, reaching down to up a breast and she lets out a shuddering moan, jerking her hips just as he slides out.
"I don't love you," he says, and he often does afterwards as her fingertips trace the word across his forehead. It's a fact. Because he never lies to her. Never has. They're tangled into each other and he stares into her eyes, looks deeper and longer than anyone else ever had. She almost looks away, her eyes fluttering, hands clenching and unclenching his shoulders. But she can't hide, not here, not with him.
"I don't need you to," she says and continues to trace the word. It's rougher than it looks, more a scar than a tattoo, jagged and rough, but she loves the feel of it.
And he lets her, sometimes closes his eyes and almost lets himself drift off at the soft touch. Hinata is all soft and kindness, different from anything he's even known. She doesn't hide her smile, always letting it slowly spread across her face.
Gaara never resists his urge to kiss her because he never stops himself, not here, not with her.