The moon hung low over Konoha, casting pale silver light across the rooftops. In the quiet of night, most of the village slept.
But not Hinata Hyuuga.
She stood outside Naruto's apartment window, her breath fogging softly against the glass, hidden by a perfectly woven chakra suppression seal passed down by Hyuuga ancestors. Her lavender Byakugan eyes glowed faintly as she watched from the shadows.
Inside, on the other side of the glass, Naruto and Sakura were still at it—hours later.
Hinata's heart pounded as she watched Naruto pin Sakura against the kitchen table, her legs spread wide, moaning loudly as he drove himself into her over and over.
Sakura was unrestrained. Shameless. Clawing his back, begging, screaming.
Hinata's face was flushed, her body trembling as she rubbed herself feverishly under her robe. Her panties were soaked, her fingers slick as they circled her clit and dipped inside her again and again.
She'd watched them from the very beginning.
The first kiss.
The first thrust.
The first time Sakura screamed his name like it was the only word in existence.
She couldn't look away.
Couldn't blink.
Couldn't stop touching herself.
Every time Sakura came, so did she.
Softly. Silently. Biting her lip. Holding back moans.
But now—now—Sakura lay face-down on the couch, ass up, and Naruto was on top of her, one hand in her hair, the other squeezing her ass as he pounded her hard from behind.
Their moans mixed. Sweat dripped. The rhythm was relentless.
Hinata dropped to her knees in the shadows, robe slipping off one shoulder, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she shoved two fingers deep inside herself.
"N-Naruto-kun…" she whispered, voice trembling.
Her other hand pinched her nipple as she came again, thighs shaking, fluids dripping onto the grass beneath her.
And still she watched.
For hours.
Sometimes Sakura was on top.
Sometimes Naruto flipped her over.
Sometimes they fucked standing, against the wall, in the shower, on the bed, even the floor.
And Hinata… she came each time. Quiet, desperate orgasms. Her legs sticky. Her hands soaked. Her eyes never leaving them.
Her body ached by the time dawn light began to rise over the horizon.
Inside, Sakura lay limp and satisfied, sprawled across Naruto's chest. He held her gently, stroking her hair.
Hinata wiped her mouth, chest heaving from one final, exhausted climax.
She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the cool glass window—too drained to cry, too wet to move.
But she knew one thing.
This could not continue.
She wanted him.She needed him.And she would no longer stand outside.
The next evening, as Naruto returned home alone, he paused outside his door.
There she stood—Hinata, her usual coat gone, wearing only a tight, sleeveless training top and short bike shorts.
Her face was flushed.
But her eyes—Byakugan glowing softly—were steady.
"Naruto-kun…" she said softly. "I watched you. All night. I… touched myself to the sound of your voice. To the sight of your body. And now…"
She stepped forward, reaching up and placing her hand on his chest.
"…I want it for myself."
Naruto blinked in shock—then grinned.
"You don't have to ask twice."