Naughty Naruto Ficlets

NaruIno for Mischief Maker's birthday. Happy birthday, lovely.

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Ino had her whole line of questioning planned in advance. 'Wow, Naruto, what a surprise to find you here!', and then 'Oh, are you alone today?', to end in 'Where are your teammates, did they abandon you?'

She knew perfectly well where Forehead-girl was; with the Hokage, leaving them all in the dust. Sometimes that seriously bugged Ino's competitive side; but then sometimes it also really hurt to think of everything Sakura was passing by in her mad quest to make herself worthy of a boy who was dead inside.

... The point was, she didn't know what their new teammate -- Sai, he'd said his name was -- did in his spare time. No one seemed to know; thus, no one could tell her. And if she didn't know, well, she couldn't very well just happen to bump into him, now could she?

It was crazy that no one she knew remembered going to the Academy with that boy. He was probably an extraordinary genius, graduated long before she entered... Mmh.

Sakura had proved distinctly unhelpful about Sai, though. Ino would have thought that she was hoarding him, like she had hoarded Sasuke-kun, but while Ino's type had stayed dark-haired, mysterious, handsome boys in general, Sakura's type had narrowed down to one individual in particular.

Ino got the feeling that Sakura wasn't quite alright with her interest in Sai for some reason... but she would have found the time in her busy schedule to warn Ino if she'd thought Ino needed to know. With a little luck, Naruto would be more forthcoming.

And she knew exactly where he was...

"Wow, Naruto, what a surprise to find you... there..."

... But not what he was doing.

Naruto was standing under the waterfall, wet locks plastered to his neck, water sluicing off his tanned shoulders and back; for a few seconds, as the surface of the river frothed and bubbled white around his waist, she thought he was naked.

He was wearing boxers, as she discovered when he lifted his arms and created another of his swirling jutsu, making the waters part behind him; but it wasn't much better, because they were pale blue and clung to his backside tenaciously.

... Wait, yes, it was better. Added a whole teasing, mysterious aspect to the appeal, even though said aspect was far from being mysterious enough to make anything less than an "ohmygod"-grade ass a possibility. Perhaps it even rated a drool-check.

She wasn't drooling over Naruto, though. No way. He was... He was blond.

And silly. And too loud. And too tanned. And there was nothing mysterious about him, what you saw was pretty much what you got...

Sai's abdominals were very nice, but they had nothing on Naruto's back.

Except, well, yes, he was too tanned for her usual tastes. He didn't have the pallor she found so noble and romantic; his skin spoke of long hours under the sun. She would be surprised if it was still soft. He probably had calluses in many places...

... like his hands, the hands he held open like claws over his head, parting the waterfall, water dancing in transparent sheets all around him, unveiling and hiding his body again and again, and really, it was a good thing he was tanned, because being as pale as Ino usually liked them would have made him look washed out. What with that hair. The hair Ino didn't like, because manly men had black hair. Which Naruto didn't.

Naruto, she decided as she stepped forward, was very much not her type. Tight, muscled ass or not. She didn't seriously want men who wore their hearts on their sleeves for anyone to see and steal a piece. Men truly worth keeping were men worth pursuing; at least when you finally won their hearts, you knew that they were yours and yours alone.

If you ever managed to reach them.

Naruto probably wouldn't need more than the work it took to reach out and pat that tempting ass.

She was almost glad when he abruptly stopped the jutsu, because the wave suddenly crashing over the riverbank, drenching her legs and spraying her face, was just cold enough to break her out of her crazy sun-induced musings.

"Sorry Ino, didn't see you there!"

Ino wiped droplets off her face and pulled the front of her top away from her skin as the excess water dripped off. She gave Naruto a harried glare.

She kept on pouting at him even as he climbed out of the riverbed; otherwise, she would have had to turn away pointedly because his underwear was just as clingy in the front as in the back.

"Mou, Naruto! This is a new top!" she protested, to keep his attention off his state of undress.

Not that she wanted him to keep being indecently wet. Well... not that she actively wanted him to. She wasn't one to look gift horses in the mouth, either.

"Sorry, sorry. It won't be hurt by a little water, will it?"

Naruto's nipples were brown; water dripped from the lock plastered to his cheekbone and rolled over his collarbone before making its way down his chest.

"Well -- what if I was wearing silk?"

"It's not silk, is it?" Naruto reached out, blinking his clueless, open blue eyes at her, and rolled the edge of her collar between two rough, dripping fingers.

Ino huffed in annoyance, and slipped both hands behind his neck to reel him in for a kiss.

He was taller than she was now, and she didn't know why this was so surprising. And he didn't have a clue what to do with his hands, and her top was now clinging to her skin, where contact with his chest got it wet.

She leaned back into his hands -- strong and large around her waist, and maybe he did make her feel sufficiently owned, protected, cradled -- and glared up at him imperiously. "Geez. You're so careless."

He was still blinking at her uncomprehendingly, but his hands were warm through the chill of the water, and he didn't let go.

This time he kissed her first. He was a little clumsy and a little too enthusiastic -- gave of himself too freely, with nothing left for Ino to coax out -- but his arms were strong, and he was just tall enough to wrap himself around her. He surprised her with a few tricks of his tongue; she leaned against his body and countered his tricks with hers. She wasn't going to let him steal the lead so easily.

Maybe she would ask about Sai another day.


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((And this isn't really part of the ficlet, but a friend expressed regrets that it wasn't porny enough, so! Insert this in the middle, when Ino is still watching Naruto from afar. :p))


She was surprised by how ... how whole Naruto's skin was. He was a rough-and-tumble kind of guy; he should have worn more scars than the white, puckered one just over his shoulder blade. Maybe it was the water, smoothing away all imperfections.

... And now he had a waterfall on his butt -- water cascading from his shoulders to break on his buttocks. She wondered if the small of his back was actually dry...

She wanted to step into the cold water, and crawl to him, and kneel in the shallow pool at his feet, and see him leaning over her to shield her from the waterfall, with whitewaters bubbling all around them like their private living crystal domain. She would arch her whole body up toward him, breathe on the damp, chilled skin of his stomach; he would press his hands against the cliff wall behind her, and water would trickle down his nose.

Then she would see how long he could resist the relentless hammering of the waterfall while she sucked him off.

She would lap cold water off his cock, warm it with her tongue, shelter it in her mouth. She would choke on the water and the lack of space as he curled around her; she would slide her hands upstream on his thighs, up the legs of his boxers, knead and cup that ass she could only guess at. She would push him deeper in her mouth, and choke on his cock this time, and he would groan and gasp and caress her hair shakily as his hips rolled in her arms.

They would end up sitting -- floating -- in the shallow waters behind the waterfall. He would struggle with her wet clothes, his hands shaking, his eyes feral with still-startled need; she would lean forward on her hands and suck droplets off his neck and not help him at all, and enjoy the pull and drag of the top over her breasts and back. In the end, he would growl low in his throat, exasperated, desperate, and his hand would worm its way up the leg of her shorts, rough against her inner thigh. Then he would wind an arm around her waist, reel her in, water sloshing as their chests collided, and stretch the leg of her shorts just far enough to sit her on his cock.

She would ride him, lips open, eyes closed, hands fisted in his hair between his head and the cliff's wall as he mouthed her breasts; they would pant in each other's ears, cold water trickling all over their skins -- getting in their eyes, their noses, making them sputter and pant; she would scrape her fingers on the cliff as she forced herself down on his dick, until it was all there inside her, filling her with warmth even as the rest of her body tightened with cold. She would clench around him, and feel him buck under her; and the waterfall would drum away on her back until she tingled all over.

She would ride and ride, crying out into the roar of the cascade; he would dig his fingers into her hips, hard enough for her to feel the bruises-to-be even through the numbness of her flesh. He'd force her down, hold her bucking hips still; she would bite his ear in protest, and then he would roll on his knees with her still impaled on his dick. They'd flounder about in the water -- she'd cough, and cling to his shoulders as he climbed up on his knees, and then she would grunt in protest as he shoved her back against the chilled stone and started trying to hammer her into the cliff.

He would pin her there by the waist, as his own hips thrust and rammed between hers, and she would come with her legs up in the air, with only his weight against her body and his cock impaling her cunt to keep her up against the rocks.

She would shake and kick, and claw at his back as he kept fucking her -- she'd come again, screaming hoarsely, exhausted from pleasure; and then he would bite down on her shoulder, pull her hips down again until she felt coarse blond hair against her stretched pussy lips; and then he would tremble in her arms and fill her with his cum.

Afterwards, he would carry her to the riverbank, and she would run her hands all over his shoulders, and laugh and say she'd always thought "I'll fuck you too hard to stand" was an over-optimistic virgin boasting.

Later, she would limp home with her clothes drenched, dripping on the path, with her skin damp and clammy; and the seat of her panties would be warm and sticky from his semen slowly dripping out of her sore pussy.