Naruto 1. ItaSaku - sad, sad eyes

**Title**: rabbit-proof fence  
**Summary**: without her memories, she was nothing but a pretty toy for them to play with; and she didn't know enough to mind. /AkaSaku/

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto

**Notes1**: I love whoring Sakura out; I can't help it, she's my baby girl.

**Notes2**: _Why do you show me those sad, sad eyes each time you decide to pass on by?_

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"You have sad eyes," she says to him one afternoon while he's fighting off sleep and she's observing him intently. He just returned from a mission and is tired, but when he trudges his way through the base and sees vibrant pink hair and long, bare legs waiting for him on his bed, his exhaustion is almost immediately forgotten.

"Mm," he agrees. "So do you."

She kisses the bicep her chin is resting on; once softly, _lovingly_, something that both excites and soothes him, and again using teeth, leaving tiny indents in his skin that will disappear within minutes, but will stick in his memory for months when he's on a mission, or when she's with someone else.

He doesn't like the idea of sharing her, but if it's the only thing that keeps her safe without him having to worry about whether or not someone will hurt her when he's not around, he's not particularly against it.

He's the one she loves the most, anyway.

"I don't remember why I'm sad though." She rolls over onto her back, black sheet falling to her waist; green eyes staring at the ceiling for a moment before turning to him. She didn't have her memories when they found her, broken and bleeding and almost _dead_ in the middle of the forest near Iwa, and he didn't know how long he was going to have her before she remembered everything and realized that sleeping with S-class criminals was against _everything_ she's swore to as a kunoichi of Konohagakure, but he was going to take advantage of it while he could.

"Well," he exhales loudly, watching her watch him trace his fingertips down her side to her exposed hipbone. "I'll just have to make you happy then, won't I?"

She doesn't say anything, but she climbs on top of him, smoothing her hands down his naked torso. "You always make me happy, Itachi-kun." She touches his face; his high, defined cheekbones, his strong jaw.

When they have intercourse he makes sure to worship her; half because he's a gentleman, and half because he wants to make her feel things he's sure none of the other members of Akatsuki make her feel; and afterwards he holds her and kisses her forehead and by the time he wakes up she's gone.

He rolls over and tries not to imagine who she's with now.

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**Notes2**: This one was short and not at all graphic, but I cannot promise that for the other chapters. _Please review and leave pairing requests and prompts!_


	2. HidaSaku - plague

**Title**: rabbit-proof fence  
**Summary**: without her memories, she was nothing but a pretty toy for them to play with; and she didn't know enough to mind. /AkaSaku/

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto

**Notes1**: _You'll be the smoke in my mouth; I'll suck you in, I'll push you out._

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"Oh Jashin, that's good."

She pulls her mouth off him with a wet 'pop', expressive emerald eyes staring up at him; hands frozen until violet eyes meet hers in annoyance. She tilts her head to the side, long pink hair falling off her shoulder like a curtain. "What does Jashin-sama have to do with it?"

Hidan stares at her, jaw slack – previously from pleasure, now from incredulity – and he wants to stab something, preferably her. It's not often he gets the bitch – that damn Uchiha makes sure of that – so when he does have her willing in his bed, he likes to exploit it to its _fullest_.

And that's fucking impossible with her asking questions every five seconds.

He scowls down at her. "What?"

She watches him for a moment, looks in front of her at his twitching member, then back up at him. She frowns. "You said 'oh Jashin'," The genuine confusion in her eyes makes him want to gouge them out with a kunai. "Why are you saying his name when he has nothing to do with…" she squeezes him for affect and he hisses through his teeth. "…this?"

Yep, he definitely wants to stab her.

"It's not – what? No; it's an expression."

She pouts, removing her hands from him entirely to fold her arms over her chest. "Well I don't like it." She turns her head to the side and glares at the wall.

Hidan stares down at her, dumbfounded. Holy Jashin, maybe it was a _good_ thing he didn't get her a lot – he wanted to slit her fucking throat. "I don't _care_ if you don't like it, I didn't say it for you!" One large hand brushes past her cheek to the back of her neck, where it tangles in her hair. "Get back to suckin', bitch."

She jerks her head away from him with a glare and stands – oddly intimidating for a naked girl with pink hair. "You're a jerk, Hidan!"

He watches her stomp out of his room in disbelief. _Seriously?_

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Notes2: This one was more humorous than serious. Leave prompts and pairing requests please!


	3. SasoSaku - young and beautiful

**Title**: rabbit-proof fence  
**Summary**: without her memories, she was nothing but a pretty toy for them to play with; and she didn't know enough to mind. /AkaSaku/

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Naruto.

**Notes1**: _Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?_

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"Explain it to me again?"

The red-head sighs, champagne eyes sliding over to the naked form propped up artistically on his bed.

He was still unsure how he felt about the girl being there – in their base, being traded around like a common whore, getting herself and everyone around her emotionally invested. They'd had their history – before she'd lost her memory and became the idiot everyone seemed to be enamored with, she'd fought what she thought was him with his grandmother, Chiyo.

Sasori himself wasn't about to fight unnecessary battles, and he wasn't about to be defeated so easily – but neither her or his grandmother had known the difference. However, they had won the fight, and it was easier for him if the hidden villages believed him dead. She crushed his artificial heart in her hands, and he could still feel it 2 years later; and while he couldn't ignore the bitter truth that she destroyed his best puppet, aesthetically speaking she was a flawless specimen – one an artist such as himself couldn't ignore.

"This is the last time I will be explaining this, so pay attention." She visibly straightens, lifting her head from his pillow, and he stops himself from reprimanding her for moving.

He supposed he couldn't scold her for following orders.

"Real art is eternal," he explains. "Something that lasts for many generations to enjoy –"

"But Deidara-kun says art is fleeting…" she interrupts. Her brows furrow in confusion before genuine sadness blossoms on her features. "Who do I believe?"

Sasori stops sketching, and debates whether or not to change the sultry bedroom-eyed look he'd already detailed in, to the downcast look she now wore. She made a magnificent seductress, with her pouty mouth and doe eyes, but her sadness was simply stunning.

This was the _nth_ portrait he'd done of her – she was beautiful, yes, but part of that beauty was her abundance of emotions, and those emotions made her near impossible to accurately portray on paper, or any other sort of canvas.

That's what kept him from making her into a puppet.

While everyone around him was intimidated by the Uchiha's threats, Sasori was not. Given his past with the girl, Itachi had given him the harshest warning, and Sasori thinks that if he hadn't given up most of his emotions long ago, he would have paid more attention.

But he was not interested in Itachi or his dangerous sharingan.

Sasori was interested in keeping Haruno Sakura's beauty preserved throughout the ages, and until he could find a way to make her his immortal masterpiece _and_ keep those beautiful expressions of hers, he would let her live.

But that did not mean he had to treat her well.

"Stop overreacting, brat. Get back in position."

She obeys – she always does – but the burning passion in her eyes is gone. A perfectionist at heart, Sasori can't ignore the fact that the pinkette he's depicted on paper is not precise to the girl on his futon.

The charcoal stick he's working with stops its careful strokes without his permission – his eyes bore into her figure in annoyance. He can hear Hidan's shouting from down the hall, and the smell of smoked mackerel is wafting into his room despite the closed door.

It will be dinner soon, and if he's not mistaken her fixation would be returning from his mission – she would become too restless to draw, and he'd been waiting all week to draw her.

It's disgusting – the way she evokes emotions in him he hadn't felt since he left his flesh behind.

He rises and sets the scroll he's been working on onto his desk. She looks up at him – all sad, green eyes and creamy skin, and she immediately moves over when he motions her to. She folds her legs beneath her, sitting on her heels, hands resting on her thighs.

He's quick to pull her into his lap – methodical in the way he wets two fingers with his saliva before sliding them inside of her; preparing her for his girth – while he had no need for male genitalia, he found it necessary for practicality reasoning – before she grows impatient, wiggling out of his grasp – away from his fingers, and guides him inside of her.

She's tight around him – perfect even in the most primal of ways. The sounds that spill from her lips are sincere – not practiced like the women of his past. Sasori feels nothing, but there is a spark of something in those green eyes – the same spark that first caught his attention during their battle – a spark he wants to draw out.

This is not their first time together, though previously she'd only been curious about his wooden body, and he'd entertained her for artistic purposes. Now it was more than that. He knew all of her expressions when he fucked her – knew what made her mouth drop and her eyes clench shut. Now he wanted to commit it to memory – burn it into his mind to keep for decades.

Make her pleasure eternal.

She moves her hips against his expertly – she knows he cannot feel what she has to offer and focuses on her own pleasure. Sasori thought he would find this wanton behavior unattractive, but when her village was burned to the ground and her comrades dead and she could remember _none of it_, he supposed he could not blame the girl for clinging to what made her happy.

"Look at me," he tells her when she's crying out, and she does. He memorizes the curve of her bottom lip – trapped between straight teeth; the way her thighs tremble around his – the half-lidded, hazy look in her eyes – pupils blown wide surrounded by green rings.

She melts on top of him – dripping from his torso to his side when she rolls off of him to curl at his side.

"You are entitled to your own opinion about art." He finally tells her – when the heartbeat he can feel pulsing where his hand is spread against her ribs slows. "You do not have to agree with either of us."

Her lips curl into a smile, then – and he is on his feet before she can get any ideas of him treating her like the others do. He picks up his scroll and takes a seat. "Now, get back into position. Be grateful I'm not starting over."

The look she wears is not identical to the one from before – seductive gaze now replaced with a happiness Sasori can easily ignore – but it only takes a few upward strokes to fix her facial expression on his drawing.

Her bliss is more aesthetically pleasing, anyway.

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**Notes2**: eternally a sucker for SasoSaku. _Please review with pairing requests and prompts._

**Notes3**: more about Konoha and Sakura's comrades will be explained in later chapters; don't worry, it's not as it seems.


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