⋆ note ; this was inspired by this post. credit to @majesticflyingwalrus ! sfw! small bit of angst!
⋆ note x 2 ; i believe this is going to have to become a miniseries…. so let’s say this is part one — centered around a small snippet of your connection with Itachi before, your feelings on the day of, and the first year of your marriage.
master list ⤷ ⋆ story m.list
You’d spoken to your husband maybe a dozen times before you were married.
Before you were thrown headfirst into a life long commitment with someone you could only comfortably consider an acquaintance for the sake of your clan.
Itachi Uchiha is polite. He’s collected, calm, rational. As children, he’d never been rude. He was a quiet boy, heir to the Uchiha clan. Someone who understood what it’s like to carry the weight of being the eldest child and all the responsibilities that accompany it, which you found comfort in.
Your families were close - ish, both high up on the social food chain. Whenever you’d been forced to spend time with him as a kid, he’d sit quietly nearby, working on a puzzle or reading some sort of book. Every now and then he’d invite you to join him and complete a puzzle, which featured pretty pictures of crows quite often, but you never spoke much outside of that.
Those memories you look back on with fondness, peaceful moments in an otherwise stress filled life.
As the years passed, and you reached your early twenties, your families renewed their bond, strengthened it. You remained unmarried, and so did Itachi. Your parents gave you grief over it, and when they brought up an arranged marriage, more than willing to give your hand away to Itachi, it didn’t surprise you. You’d been expecting it.
Itachi’s handsome, you respect him, and he’s kind, so you ignored the sensation of the ocean echoing in your ribcage and sucked it up. For your clan, you went along with the proposal. For your clan, you resigned yourself to a lifetime of loneliness.
Besides, you could do much worse than Itachi, right?
The planning was a breeze, over half the preparations being done for you. Your Mother, and Itachi’s, asked for your input considering certain aspects, but this wedding seemed more about the two of them instead of celebrating your union.
You have no clue if Itachi got a say in anything.
⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣
The day of the wedding you sat alone. Your Mother had been droning on and on about “proper etiquette”, and the “importance of sticking to the itinerary”, when the reality of the situation crashed down on you. Hard.
Your entire body chilled, a rush of icy slush replacing your blood, heart caught in your throat. Sweat beaded on the back of your neck, palms clammy. Once your hands started to shake your Mother stared at you in bewilderment, her questions concerning your health muffled and far away to your ears.
You excused yourself without waiting for permission, locating the nearest vacant room to hide, crouch down, and to breathe.
Through the window you gaze at the small children from both families playing in the field. Jealousy burns hot in your chest at their carefree nature, the little ones living in ignorance and bliss. You squeeze your eyes shut to shake off the dark direction of your mind, allowing their high pitched peals of laughter to afford you a moment of calm. Reaching up you wipe the tears off your cheek with the back of your hand, careful of the delicate makeup that’d taken hours to perfect.
A soft knock on the door startles you, both eyes opening wide. You sniffle once and rise to your feet, smoothing out any wrinkles in your outfit, regaining your composure.
“Come in,” you call out, voice scratchy with the evidence of your recent crying. You clear your throat as the door opens and, to your surprise, it’s Itachi who steps in. The door swings shut behind him, not producing a single sound. Your eyebrows shoot up and Itachi gives you a small, comforting smile.
It’s silent as he walks closer, the air around you somber and achy. He sits down with enviable grace in the chair next to where you stand, patting the seat beside himself in invitation.
“I’m aware this day is…difficult,” he begins. He tilts his head up to meet your gaze, eyes warm and calm. “Your Mother told me you were in here. I wanted to be sure you were okay, so, are you alright?”
You sigh through your nose, resigned, and take a seat. Itachi reaches over and hovers his hand an inch above your knee, hesitant, before making the decision to rest it there. You stare at his hand, the lump in your throat returning, only this time it’s due to the sudden surge of affection swelling for the man.
“I’m doing well, all things considered,” you say light heartedly. You sneak your hand underneath his, thread your fingers together, and lift your head to lock eyes with Itachi, the corner of your mouth curling upwards.
Itachi laughs, and for the first time, you notice the movement crinkles the sides of his eyes. How endearing.
His expression switches to something more sympathetic, tender. “I apologize this has been forced upon you. If it helps, I’m very content with you being the one chosen for me. It’s comforting to me that I’m marrying someone who I’m on friendly terms with.”
“Yes,” you agree, eyes twinkling as his sweet words lift your spirits from the floor. “Although, I have to admit I’m heartbroken to be marrying you instead of Sasuke.”
Itachi’s jaw drops open, eyes going round like saucers before laughter bursts out of you, squeezing his hand tight as he rolls his eyes and joins in with you.
“A pity,” He teases. “I know for a fact my menace of a little brother would be ecstatic to marry someone as wonderful as you,” Itachi says, humming as he pretends to be in thought. “Don’t be surprised to find Sasuke waiting for you at the altar.”
You gasp in fake shock, leaning in to bump his shoulder with yours. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The sincerity of the statement leaves you searching for the right response, a small horde of butterflies demanding their presence be known in your belly. Things grow quiet between you once more, the silence comforting rather than awkward while you find your voice. “I am truly grateful that it’s you, Itachi. I doubt I could survive this with someone else.”
Itachi shifts his body to face yours, expression determined and serious. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make our life comfortable. Even if our relationship is not romantic, I’m grateful to be on the receiving end of your friendship. We’ll find our rhythm, promise me you won’t give up hope.”
You do promise, even going so far as to lock your pinkies together. Itachi exits first, and you follow his footsteps a few moments later.
When you leave your heart’s lighter than air.
⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣
The first year of your marriage, Itachi lives like he’s your roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.
You sleep in different rooms, you’ve made your home in separate bathrooms, and Itachi keeps busy enough with clan affairs that his appearance throughout the day is sparse. Somehow, dinner happens to be the time you’ve both allotted for the other. It’s not in writing, and you don’t speak about it, yet Itachi joins you nearly every evening to share a meal.
You’ve created quite a comfortable routine for yourself within your new life as Itachi’s wife. That’s all it is though, comfortable. Just as Itachi promised.
Loneliness is your shadow from day one. On your wedding night, you’d harbored a shred of hope that you’d share an intimate night with your new husband. When you’d kissed Itachi in your bedroom, fumbling to undress him, his response was to break the kiss as gently as he could. He declined with a strained smile and manners that never seem to abandon him.
Crying into your pillow, alone, was not what you expected to be on the table.
Itachi sat prim and proper at the table the next morning when you tried to apologize for making him uncomfortable. He assured you that wasn’t the case, but asked that you didn’t bring it up again, as he felt that enough had been pushed onto your shoulders already. He refused to add sex that you wouldn’t enjoy to the list.
You swallowed your pride and respected his wishes, assuming it was his way of letting you down easy and that Itachi had no real desire for you besides that of a simple companion. Yes, the situation was a blow straight to the gut, but you agreed to this life, so did you really have any right to complain?
Ever since, a distance remained between you. Day after day, you took up new hobbies, doing anything to fill the hole in your heart. As ironic as it may seem, you found yourself spending tons of time with Sasuke of all people. As if you did marry him instead.
You’d decided to start going on more walks, eager to explore and appreciate the beauty the Uchiha compound had to offer, and that’s where you discovered Sasuke.
Halfway through the journey you spotted him relaxing on a stone bench, watching koi fish swim circles in the pond, peaceful as you’d ever witnessed him. You’re sure Sasuke heard you approaching, because he was not surprised in the slightest when you took a careful seat next to him.
Quiet small talk about koi fish flowed through the air, and you mentioned your wish to tend to the gardens nearby. Then, on a whim, and before you could regret it, you asked him if he’d be interested in joining you on your daily strolls. The shock must have shown on your face when he accepted, because he snickered in response.
So that’s how you filled out your days. Occupied with different things such as drawing, gardening, baking, and going on walks with Sasuke. It shocked you to the core as you found a friend and confidant in the younger Uchiha.
A month after your one year anniversary with Itachi, you join him for dinner one night. He sits stiff as a board, shoulders tense when you arrive. A quick uptick of his lips becomes your singular greeting after you say hello.
“Is everything alright, Itachi?” You ask, tone weary as you settle down in your spot across from him.
He nods once, a quick jerk of his head. “Of course, I’ve just been meaning to speak with you about something. Before that however, tell me about your day.” Itachi sets his hands in his lap, waiting for your answer with an unreadable expression.
“Oh, well it was fine. Sasuke helped me —,”
“Sasuke?” He interrupts, voice tight.
Your eyebrow raises. “Yes,” you answer slowly. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned before we go on walks together.”
“Oh, yes. You’re right. I fear I’ve been quite forgetful today.” Itachi does seem distracted, which is odd in of itself. You’re certain you’ve discussed your walks with his little brother before and he never had an issue with it. You blink in Itachi’s direction, the atmosphere turning tense and unsettling. You’re able to hear to the crickets chirping outside.
The silence is awkward. “Is there something you needed to tell me?”
Itachi’s brows pinch together, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “Forgive me for being so out of it. Yes, something important. I spoke with my Mother and Father today, they’ve informed me the elders have been pressuring them to tell me that I need to fulfill my duty and…,” he pauses to clear his throat, gaze firm. “That you and I need to have a baby, to produce an heir.”
Your stomach drops, body flashing white hot, and your cheeks become hot to the touch within seconds. “Are you serious?”
“I wouldn’t lie.”
You let out an incredulous laugh. Once again you’re smacked in the face with the life you signed up for. If you’re honest, you’d forgotten about having children over the course of the past year. It’s inevitable you suppose, making little Uchiha babies with Itachi, you’re his wife. “No, you wouldn’t.”
Itachi opens his mouth to speak but you hold up a hand to stop him.
“Don’t you dare apologize, Itachi. I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to be your wife. All I ask is that you be gentle, I’m not so experienced after all,” you try to joke, but it falls flat.
His gaze softens, posture loosening. He remains quiet for a moment, thoughtful. Then guilt appears to be written all over his face. “I’m a virgin as well, so know you’re not alone in this.”
No beating around the bush with Itachi. At least he doesn’t apologize again. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, voice soft. You suck in a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and let it out slowly, steadying yourself. You’ll find time to spiral over this when you’re alone. “When are we going to start?”
Itachi shoots you a small smile, the same one full of comfort and reassurance he gave you on your wedding day. You hadn’t even realized your shoulders were hiked up with tension until they relax under his gaze. “In order to answer that, I have to ask you another uncomfortable question. When does your next cycle begin?”
⋆ ⋆ should this mini series arranged marriage au continue? lemme know what you think! ⋆ ⋆
Your bare feet are drenched in blood, and most of it is not your own.
You keep going, despite the gravel digging into your skin, despite the afternoon sun burning down on you.
Heavy gold chains hang around your neck, hips, and wrists, making noise with every step. This is what alerts them.
The taller one stops you first, his sword dug into the ground in front of you.
“And what is it you’re planning?” He asks, sharp teeth glistening in the evening sun.
You stop, wipe your sweaty hands on the delicate silk skirt. “I need to speak to your partner.”
“Sure,” he laughs, the sound more like a bark. “You can leave your gold with me and turn back around.”
“No!” You stomp your foot. “I will talk to him! He is…” You hesitate. Today is not your day. “By the rules of this country, he is my betrothed.”
-
Itachi Uchiha eyes you over a cup of tea. He’s well aware of Kisame on his right, pretending that all he’s focusing on is making them dinner.
You are pretty. Even windswept and tired and dirty. But you’ve also lost your mind.
“We are not married,” Itachi repeats once more, voice low and calm. He’s never had to talk to an insane person before, but he figures staying calm should work best.
“But we are,” you disagree just the same. “I’m not saying it’s a great law, it’s shit, really, but if you kill someone’s spouse, you automatically become responsible for their partner.”
“Easy divorce,” Kisame quips, and you throw him a look.
“Has nobody ever tried to change that?” Itachi asks, a little exasperated.
“Sure,” you take a sip of your tea. “But since our village leader regularly “marries” that way, change has been a little slow lately.”
Kisame gurgles with amusement. Your lips pull into something like a smile. Itachi bites back a sigh.
“I am not interested in marrying you.”
“I understand.” You nod. “But we are already married. See, I’m not wearing this stuff for shits and giggles. The guy you killed-”
“The Jinchuriki,” Kisame throws in, turning away when Itachi sends him a glare.
“The Jinchuriki,” you start anew, “has been terrorizing our country. He’s more powerful than even our best men. He’s made himself… well, a God. I was supposed to be this month's sacrifice.”
Itachi grimaces. “Are you telling me I have more than one wife now?”
“No.” Your grip around the teacup tightens. “He got tired of them easily. Killing seems to be more fun than… romancing.”
“But you’re free now,” Itachi points out. “The guy isn’t going to come back for you.”
You stare at him, your eyes haunted by an emotion he cannot name.
“Would you go back to a family that sold you to a guy like him?”
-
After Dinner, you grab their few utensils and make for the nearby stream.
This is where Itachi finds you, submerged in the cold water, your clothes and jewelry resting on a stone nearby, only the moonlight casting its ethereal glow.
“There are a few villages,” he starts, “on the other side of the border. If we sell some of your jewelry, we can find you a good place there. Our marriage would be null and void, and you’re pretty, you’d have no problem finding someone you like.”
You watch him closely. Dark hair, dark eyes. You have seen him fight, his quiet, subdued deadliness. But this is something else. Not carelessness, but the opposite.
You lean in. His eyes do not stray from yours. But they grow warmer as you talk.
“There are often fights at the border,” you point out. “I don’t think it will be safe there. Especially not for a foreigner.”
“Maybe a village further from the border, then?”
“Maybe.” You hesitate, look up at him through your lashes. “And if I knew how to defend myself…”
Itachi gets up, grabs your silk skirt from its resting place.
“It’s getting cold,” he points out, lowering it again. “We’ll talk about it in the morning. I’ll get you something warmer to wear.”
-
Itachi, for all his detached demeanor, cares a lot.
He prepares balanced meals, sews a warm skirt out of spare fabric, buys you a pair of shoes at a nearby village.
You have no reason to think he couldn’t kill you - and easily, too - if he wanted an easy way out of this responsibility. Still, you are holding onto what he gives with all the strength you have.
Kisame is easier to read and harder to deal with.
You had asked once about him training you and have regretted it since.
Your thighs are sore, your arms bruised. So far, you haven’t gotten any praise.
-
You reach the border in disguise. Alone, too.
Part of you wonders if this is Itachi’s idea. To lose you here “by accident”.
But you swallow your fears and doubts, sell one bracelet, and buy yourself decent clothes, a bed for the night, a weapon to defend yourself with.
Your village might be nothing but a distant thought, but it casts long shadows. You’ve heard of this place. People you know have been here, come here still.
You don’t dare to stay, but you don’t dare to leave either. Not yet, anyway.
-
Itachi appears in the night, slips out of the shadows as if he’s one of them.
You reach for him before you’re fully awake, exhale with relief without meaning to.
“You stayed,” he points out, his tone void of emotion.
“I was hoping you’d come,” you admit, ashamed of your own clinginess. You used to be shrewd; at least, you thought yourself so. “Two more days and I’d have to leave on my own.”
“Where would you go?” He asks, not quite stepping closer, but not stepping away either. “What direction?”
“Sit with me?” You ask instead of answering, hoping that the sight, the scent, the touch of you could be enough to keep him from leaving you again.
“We are not married here,” he reminds you, though he inches closer, if only a little bit.
“But you still feel responsible,” you point out the obvious.
Itachi takes a seat without another word.
-
He calls you “Izumi” once, his breath ghosting over your neck as you huddle close for warmth in the night, his heart beating hummingbird fast under your palm.
You never ask about her, or if you look like her, but sometimes, when the sun sits low in the sky, and Kisame’s attention is occupied, Itachi reaches out to twirl a lock of your hair around his finger, looking at you and through you all the same.
When you kiss him, then, he does not pull away.
Itachi never tells you that he loves you, but you can taste it on his tongue, at night. You can feel it slipping from his lips when he kisses the palms of your hands before he leaves, and smell it in his hair when he returns, clinging to him like the scent of blood and ash.
-
Kisame’s the one who finds the old farmhouse hiding behind a hillside, who cuts down trees, and teaches you how to use a hammer properly.
Kisame’s the one who rips out the old furniture and builds two beds out of it, one large enough to fit him, and one large enough to fit the two of you.
Kisame’s the one who stays at the village the first few nights after they return from a mission once more, claiming that he’s missed the girls and the taste of good sake.
But it’s Itachi who lifts you over the doorstep in a sentimental moment, kisses you against the kitchen sink, dries your tears during moonless nights.
“I don’t want to die,” he admits once, sharing a window to watch the full moon rise, your breath freezing into puffs of white. “But I know I have to.”
He’s more ghost-like than a person in that moment, barely there for you to touch, but you try so anyway, fingertip after fingertip, until his hand is yours and his mind follows.
You learn about Konoha that night, the full moon watching over you, his light pale-white and cool.
You learn about Sasuke, imagine his chubby cheeks and easy affection, and the terror he lives with now.
“Isn’t it too much?” You ask, your heart torn neatly apart by the truth, one half fitting neatly into Itachi’s hands, the other going out to this lost boy, who’s lost so much already and is losing still. “What if he… what if he can’t do it? What if he won’t do it?”
“He has to,” Itachi mutters. “And fast. I’m-” He coughs, blood speckling his palm. He winces in pain as he swallows, sighs as he sinks into you. “I don’t want to die,” he whispers against the bareness of your skin, the open wounds of your soul.
-
“Did you love Izumi like me?” You ask him one morning when he can’t seem to find his shoes, stubbing his toes, his ankles and his knees as he searches. It hurts to see him like this, dwindling so fast.
Itachi halts, head just an inch from the corner of the bench. “I’ve loved no one like I love you.”
You put your hand over the corner just short of him knocking against it, and he smiles as his temple hits your knuckles. “Have you seen my glasses?”
“Here,” you hand them over, right them on his nose. “Do you wear them in battle, too? They look cute on you.”
“No, I don’t need glasses to fight. Just to… uh, live a normal life.”
The hearth fire warms the room as you pull him in. Kisame’s outside, running, maybe, or cutting wood for the coming winter. They will be gone soon, and you can barely remember a time in your life that did not have them in it.
“Itachi?”
“Yes, love?”
“I’m pregnant.”
- - -
It’s a conscious decision to leave, to lock the door and hide the key.
“What are you going to name it?” Kisame asks after the first mile, the worry stretching the silence thin. “The pup, I mean?”
“Sarada, if it’s a girl,” you propose, shaking your head when Itachi offers you a branch to use as a walking stick. “I’m pregnant, not disabled.”
“What’s that mean?” Kisame interrupts your one-sided quarrel, already two steps ahead. “The name?”
“It’s from our native language,” you explain, your hand slipping into Itachi’s as you mean to pass him, his grip warm enough to keep you at his pace. “It’s no longer spoken, but if you excuse my rough translation, it would mean ‘saviour’.”
“I like that,” Kisame agrees. “And if it’s a boy?”
“Eh?” You hesitate, your eyes flickering to Itachi. “What do you think?”
“Shisui?”
“What’s that mean?”
“Still water.”
“Not as pretty,” Kisame decides. “Better have a girl, then.”
-
Sarada is born on a frosty winter morning, her warm breath fogging up around her as she screams her feelings out into the world.
You’re alone for the day, left behind at a monastery in the care of a handful of nuns, their hands rough from hard work, but their eyes warm as they gaze upon your daughter.
Sarada’s eyes are as dark as the night sky, drawing you in.
She squirms and she screams, hates to fall asleep, and hates waking up even more.
It’s only when she meets her father that she settles, as if she’d been worried about him the same as you.
Itachi holds her for hours, half-asleep or barely conscious, dips his nose into her hair, and drags a thumb over the plumpness of her cheeks.
“She looks like you,” you tell him quietly, but he disagrees quietly. “She looks like Sasuke.”
You laugh. “Are you sure? She’s yours.”
“Maybe,” he agrees quietly, though you don’t think he believes it. “Maybe I’m reaching. I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“And your brothers, after all.”
“Right.”
-
These are beautiful moments, the two of them together, Sarada’s whole hand curled around one of Itachi’s fingers, his voice in her ear as he takes her to bed.
But you know it’s not going to last long, just like you know that the ice-flowers on the windows aren’t going to survive the sunny day.
Itachi’s health has worsened, and so has his sight.
His kisses taste like blood now, and some days his hand misses yours as he reaches for you.
He’s dying, in more ways than one.
-
“I want to tell you about Izumi,” Itachi says one morning, half-dressed, his mouth pressed against your spine.
“I’m not sure I want to hear it.”
“It’s sweet,” he disagrees. “You’ll like it.”
“Okay?” You pull your shirt closer, though resisting the urge to dress. Moments like this are rare, and you want to make the most of them, no matter how broken the heating is.
“I loved her,” Itachi admits, his voice barely louder than the gurgling snores of Sarada. “And I killed her.”
You keep quiet. His voice is heavy with grief.
“Back then, I thought I knew what love was. That nothing was ever going to trump the feelings I had. For Izumi. For Sasuke.” He falls quiet, his lips moving soundlessly against your skin. “You’ve taught me wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
Itachi’s breath comes heavy, and you realize with sudden clarity that you don’t want to hear his answer.
But when you kiss him instead, he tastes like copper and salt, blood and tears, and the eventual end of something great.
-
You don’t know it’s the last time you kiss him when you do.
He tastes like congee and toothpaste, his movements a little sluggish in the early morning.
Kisame hugs you goodbye, patting your ass by accident, smiling when you threaten to chase him off grounds without his packed lunch.
It’s a day like any other, back at the farmhouse you left when Sarada had barely been more than a thought.
She’s not awake when Itachi leaves, clinging to sleep with all the strength a six-month-old can muster.
The image of them is burned into your minds, their coats billowing in the wind as they move. Itachi turns one last time at the corner, smiling, waving, and catching the kiss you send him.
You wonder if he thought of you as he died.
-
Sasuke comes with the morning fog, knocking so softly you almost miss it.
There’s a kunai by the door that you grab, hidden behind your back as you open.
“Yes?” You ask the stranger who looks oddly familiar. “Can I help you?”
“Itachi sent me,” he says, “I-” You close the door with a snap, arm braised against it.
“Itachi is dead,” you tell him, loud enough that he must hear it even through the thick wood. “Please leave.”
“How do you know?”
You think of the letter that resides in your bedside table, Kisame’s crude writing, and his haunting well-wishes.
“Are you denying it?”
“No,” a pause. “I killed him.” Another pause. “Itachi said that would make me responsible for you.”
“If you’re here to get revenge-”
“No!” Something knocks heavily against the door. “Can we please talk? I- I want to know about my brother.”
-
Sasuke looks nothing like you’d imagined him, and yet so eerily familiar.
There’s a sadness in the dark depths of his eyes that you’re familiar with, and his ink-black hair looks as stubbornly messy as Sarada’s.
He does not sit, preferring to walk in circles around the perimeter of your small garden as you talk.
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” he tells you again and again, swears it like an oath. “I wouldn’t have killed him if I had known.”
“You needed to,” you disagree, tired of this life and this love and everything between. “I’m so sorry.”
-
Sasuke stays. First for one night, then another, sleeping in Kisame’s old room.
He brings with him the part of your heart you’d sent out to him ages ago, or maybe he just carries some of your grief as you go on.
There’s not much to talk about besides Sarada or Itachi, but thinking of Itachi brings you both to tears, so you keep quiet about him.
“Sasuke, watch!” Sarada calls out, running down the hill on chubby legs, laughing as the wind carries her skirt and her hair.
It’s the first smile you see on his face.
-
After a month or so, the days draw out longer, the sun staying up until late at night.
Sarada sleeps curled up between the mint and the rosemary, and Sasuke sits close enough that you can feel the absence of his arm and the presence of his grief, all mingled together.
“So,” you nod toward the missing limb. “How did it happen?”
“So?” He counters, eyebrows raised, nodding toward Sarada. “How did that happen?”
“Didn’t Itachi tell you?”
“We didn’t exactly have much time,” Sasuke mumbles. “I’m thankful I even got those few moments after what happened. Never thought I’d see him again, least of all in that way.”
You suck in a breath, expecting the thought of it to shatter you, but it doesn’t. “Tell me about it,” you beg instead.
-
“I should get going,” Sasuke points out after three months, the summer heat slowly dying down again. “I’m sure people are waiting for me in Konoha.”
You nod along to his words, but can’t help yourself later on, hiding one of his shirts behind the washing machine. And then another.
His left shoe goes missing too, though you suspect that’s not your doing.
Summer turns into autumn. Sarada dances in the moonlight, both of her hands holding Sasuke’s as he twirls her around.
Autumn turns into winter. Kisame’s room has no proper heating. Your room isn’t big enough for two beds. It makes sense for him to slip in next to you, your bodies resting on opposite ends, the ghost of Itachi connecting and separating you.
The year draws to a close, and a letter arrives, god knows how it found him.
“I’ll be gone for a month, probably,” Sasuke explains, head bowed, wringing his hands. “I promise.”
And you want to say that you don’t care, that you’re fine on your own, had to be for a while.
But you can’t.
You pull him into your arms instead, like you should have done with Itachi all those years ago. You hold him tight and swallow your tears and will the missing part of your heart to stop hurting, even as Sasuke hugs you back tenderly.
-
“I’ve loved no one like I love you,” Itachi whispers in your dreams, and the other half of your bed feels just as hollow as the hole in your heart, as empty as your home without-
“Sasuke!” Sarada spots him from the window, waving her arms wide. “You’re back!”
“I am!” He lifts her high with one arm alone, laughs along to her singing, steps a little too close in the crowded kitchen, his breath ghosting over your neck as he announces his return.
“Welcome back,” you tell him quietly, your mouth filled with guilt and longing alike.
That night, you sleep on your left side, the distance between your bodies dwindling.
-
Your head finds a place on his chest by the time spring arrives. There’s no more talk of him moving into the spare bedroom, not when it could house Sarada instead.
You train behind the house, on grass patches that still remember the weight of Kisame’s feet, the leaves on the trees familiar with your joined laughter, the comfortable quiet after an hour well-spent.
Here, where Sarada has taken her first steps and her first stumble, where she’s cried bitter tears after the death of a bumblebee and lost a tooth to an apple, you bury your grief in fruitful soil and watch the flowers bloom.
Here, where you’ve found home and lost it, you kiss Sasuke for the very first time.
And there’s still part of you missing, half a heart buried with a different man.
But it’s okay. Because Sasuke’s missing half of his heart as well, buried at the same place.
Best Friend's Older Brother ⁺◦ Itachi x fem!reader
a/n: hey guys... not sure if any of you even remember my blog but its been 2/3 years since i've written lol. new life new errything but my new bf is giving me so much inspo for smut it's insane (he's so hot) and so here we go... enjoy! this prompt tickled something in my brain xxx (also this is set in a modern au w no uchiha massacre where reader wants sasuke's older brother itachi and winds up in his bed,,, just read it [3 years in the making] lol trust its GOOD)
warnings: NSFW, don't feel to write the rest in lmao i haven't done this inna while but hella smut just sayin
word count: 5.6k (wtf?? ok i went overboard here and did not realise but i hope u enjoy LMAO)
You knew it was wrong. You knew there would be conversation, after conversation once you two were done with this. You knew everything would change. But you had wanted it more than you had ever wanted anything before.
A few days prior, your best friend Sasuke had let you and your friend group (if you can even call them friends) know about a "small birthday get together"- in his words- at his house that weekend. You wanted to be excited. You wanted to enjoy yourself. But there were multiple reasons why you felt like you wouldn't; the first being the shitty group of friends that you two shared. They weren't the nicest people nor did they take interest in you and you somehow always felt like an outsider when around them. It was only when you and Sasuke hung out alone did you really enjoy someone else's company. Unfortunately being friends with him meant being around these guys a lot, and that included this weekend for his birthday.
The second reason involved something more complicated: Itachi Uchiha, Sasuke's brother. You were- let's not use the word obsessed...- maybe a bit infatuated with him. It may seem like a good thing, to spend a night at the house where your crush lived, but seeing him hurt a little bit more inside every time, and I'll explain why.
Sasuke hadn't been your best friend since you two were kids- it had only been a few years since you met, and yet still, a few years was enough to develop the most enormous crush on his older brother- and of course Sasuke knew nothing. It started off very innocently, you knew nothing would ever happen, you knew he'd never want someone as young as you, and you simply found comfort and entertainment in keeping it to yourself- a silent crush... That was until last year.
You were different now. More mature. Emotionally and physically. You knew that you were capable of being with someone his age and you felt yourself growing older by the day, your interests expanding and your emotions as well. You talked more than usual at the dinner table with Sasuke's family about "intelligent" topics (or what you thought classified as intelligent). You tried to make your presence more known. You tried speaking to Itachi (occasionally) and yet every thing you did was met with a response that contained no more than a few words. And there was certainly never any reciprocation of question given to him that was directed back to you. Not only was he blunt, he was cold too, his voice lingering with iciness and a twang of unkindness, snarky comments occasionally slipping out.
Ultimately, it was useless, and that uselessness turned into pain. You didn't want to see him this weekend. It simply reminded you of what you wanted so badly, yet could never have and it had been three weeks since you had been to Sasuke's house, your feeling of isolation growing more and more. Until this weekend.
You walked up to Sasuke's house, hoping you could quickly sneak up to his room and wait for the rest of his friends to get there, but of course it was never that easy. This may sound like a cliche and joke, but it wasn't Sasuke's mom or dad that answered the door, it was Itachi, and when that door swung open and his brows furrowed upon inspection of who was at the door, you couldn't help but gulp and think this was all a mistake. You felt your heart sink and that horrible familiar feeling fill your chest again. You knew this would be a long night.
You both said your greetings (although his full of much less words than yours) and you stepped inside the house, faintly smelling his fragant smell- the best thing you had ever smelt in your life, although you didn't want to admit that in the moment.
It was awkward. He was cold, and weird and god you just wanted him so bad but of course once again you were left standing there uncomfortably. "Cmon y/n, think! Say something!", you thought to yourself and urged the confidence you had gained in the past year to enter once again as he shut the front door.
"So how's college? I haven't seen you in a few weeks." Finally, some words coming from you. He paused briefly, before answering, "It's fine, I thought you were here last week?"
Ouch. Clearly any attempt you had made to be noticed went unnoticed.
Before coming here, you knew he never paid attention to you (and when he did it wasn't very pleasant) so you thought there was no harm in specifically wearing something a bit "older", a bit more slutty. Your tits were highlighted and pushed up in this sleek, black, partially see-through lace top with a matching laced mini skirt alongside your knee high black boots. Your brown curls were left out and flowing, accompanied by a white headband that framed your face beautifully. You knew most guys your age would drool at the sight of you, but this wasn't most guys your age.
"Sasuke's upstairs", Itachi said roughly. "Yeah I know, I just-" You paused. You could see his eyes scanning your outfit, your body, up and down, his brows slowly furrowing at the sight. This is it! He's finally seeing me in a different light, you naively thought. That was until he opened his mouth.
"Why do you look like you're dressed for halloween?", he asked, a sense of judgment coming from his tone. You looked at him, confused, hurt. "Your outfit. You do realize you look like a nun right?". OH. fuck.
The stupid white headband you threw on with the all-black outfit made you slightly look like a nun, one that was standing there stupidly, looking- not only overdressed- but dressed for an occasion that was not tonight.
"Oh haha, I guess you're right. I do actually look like a nun..." You said quietly, your eyes trying to analyze his facial expression and read his thoughts.
"Yeah a slutty one- and not the good kind," and with that remark he scoffed, walking away as if he was bored with the conversation already.
A sluttly one. And not the good kind. You tried to walk up the stairs and head up to Sasuke's room but those words were repeating themselves in your head. As you opened the door and found Sasuke and two other friends sitting on his bed they all looked at you strangely. "Why are you dressed like that?". It was not going to be a good night.
The next few hours were filled with strange looks from the eyes of those dressed a bit more casually, weirdly sensual looks from some of his friends and mostly a lot of alcohol. You all were still in school but Sasuke's parents weren't exactly the strict type. Yours were however, and you had only ever been drunk once before this night- specifically for Sasuke's birthday last year. He was definitely not the best influence.
The drinking games and the shots were getting to be a bit too much for you as you felt yourself entering a state entitled "The most drunk I have even been.... why do I want more alcohol?". As teenagers do, a variety of games were played such as spin the bottle which involved you having to make out with some gross guy in the friend group and ultimately, strip poker- without the poker. You didn't manage much, however your top did come off, leaving your in your sleek black bra completely on display. You didn't really care though, as everyone else was half naked and now at least you could blend in a bit better without your raunchy, lacy top on.
Despite all the distractions happening in these two hours, you couldn't help but be hurt by everything that transpired downstairs upon your arrival. His tone, his words, I mean he practically laughed at you. You felt your heart sink the more you thought about it and as you found yourself getting more quiet and more drunk, you decided what better to do than head downstairs and give him a piece of your mind.
You had had it. The year of him making you feel like this. Like a younger brother's friend (which, yes, you were but come on, he didn't have to show it). The year of the rudeness and the way he ignored you in the times where you wished he didn't. You were about to head downstairs and tell him exactly how horrible he was. Except you didn't realize that you were in your bra.
As you reached the bottom step, you looked up to see Itachi walking towards the front door, heading past the steps with a few of his friends slowly following behind. "ITACH-", you couldn't even finish your sentence.
"Y/n what the hell are you doing? Why the fuck are you down here in your bra?" He grabbed your wrist tightly. "I'M COMing down HERe to tell you-", again no sentences finished. He spun you around and led you back up the stairs, his hands on either side of your lower back while he pushed and walked behind you. You only managed to produce thoughts for a second and in that second you almost seemed to sober up, his broad hands on your bare skin, the warmth and the feeling that filled you. It was short lived, though, the minute he removed them and guided you to his room. "What the fuck are you doing? My friends are downstairs and you're coming down in your bra?"
You entered his room, his smell evidently everywhere as you looked around at the familiar four walls. You had been there before when snooping around with Sasuke a few years ago, but of course Itachi didn't know that.
"So what? It's not that big of a deal", you slurred your words as he rummaged through his closet, as if he was in a rush. "Here" he tossed you a shirt. One of his shirts. "Put this on," he said as he looked at you with a slightly disgusted expression on his face.
"Why do I have to do anything you say? This is the most emotion you've ever showed me!" You shouted as he stood waiting for you to comply. He didn't respond.
"You know what, fine!" You reached for the waistline of your skirt. "I'm older now and if I want to walk around in my underwear I fucking can!" You started tugging your skirt down, partially revealing the lacy black underwear underneath but before you could fully drop your skirt to the floor, Itachi grabbed your wrists with both of his hands tightly.
"Y/n are you fucking serious? Don't fucking do that in my room or you wont be welcome in this house again." He said roughly in your ear. Ouch. His words were serious. His hands harshly let go your wrists as he added, "Put the shirt on and get the fuck out of my room please." He headed to the door and before he could open it you shouted back, "Where are you going?". He turned and looked back, the familiar icy blank stare facing you again. "To a party", and the door slammed shut.
The next few hours were filled with even more alcohol, to add to your already debilitated state. Sasuke and his friend's looked at you weirdly for wearing what was evidently Itachi's shirt, but nobody really questioned anything when you kept taking more shots of vodka, attempting to forget the embarrassment of a few hours ago.
As time went on, your enjoyment went down and so did your state of coherency. You could not shake the events of tonight, yet one thing you couldn't understand was why Itachi was so worried about you being downstairs in your bra in front of his friends? Surely that had nothing to do with him? Maybe he was embarrassed that one of his younger brother's friends was making an embarrassment of the family? Either way, whatever triggered his reaction surely wasn't prideful on your behalf.
It was now 1 am and you felt yourself slipping, unable to soberly process and function. You kept quiet for a bit, knowing Sasuke's friends wouldn't have cared if you were there or not and eventually decided it was time to get up and go find somewhere to sleep, possibly the couch. As you stumbled to open the door and nearly tripped on your way there, Sasuke knew you were completely out of your mind drunk and decided to help you walk, a concerned expression on his face.
"Are you alright, y/n? Do you feel to throw up?" You shook your head. No way were you doing that tonight. You knew you just needed to sleep. "Sleep- I just need to sleep."
"Okay, well you were going to sleep on my bed and I'd sleep in Itachi's room but I don't think these guys are leaving soon," He gestured to the open door in the hallway that lead to his room, a blur and haze of noise escaping it. "Ughhhh close the door, too loud!" you slurred and demanded. He laughed.
"Maybe you can just sleep in Itachi's room?" Your eyes suddenly opened wide. "Itachi??? No... No thank you I'll sleep on the floor." You suddenly plopped your drunken self on the floor of Sasuke's hallway. He laughed once more. "No, y/n, its fine. He's out at a party tonight and I doubt he'll be back- will probably spend the night by some girl as he usually does after parties."
Sigh. Probably spending the night by some girl huh?
You complied, finally, and managed to stumble into Itachi's room once more, still wearing his T-shirt and inhaling the scent of him that bounced off the walls. Before climbing into bed, you managed to at last take off the itchy, lace skirt and drop it to the ground alongside your bra and your underwear, remaining in nothing but Itachi's shirt. It may seem a bit strange, but this is how you slept. 'Fully breathable' you called it.
It didn't take long before you were under his duvet, wrapped up in his scent and warmth, and drifted off to sleep while the room slowly spinned.
By this point you were fast asleep. Hours and hours passed as you framed peaceful dreams in your head of god knows what- something you'd wake up to in the morning and forget. That was until the scent of Itachi filled your breath. Every inhale that was taken just fueled the desire in your crotch that kept building and building until you- fully asleep- started humping his bed. What you didn't realize in this moment was that the scent wasn't coming from his bed- it was coming from him. Right next to you.
In the few hours you slept, it was peaceful and quiet. Sasuke's friends left one by one and that led everyone in the house to eventually fall asleep. That was until a few minutes ago, when a partially drunk Itachi came staggering up the stairs into his own room, unaware you were in his bed. He didn't bother to turn on the lights, he was exhausted and just craving sleep and upon stripping into nothing but his boxers, he managed to crawl into his side of the bed.
It wasn't until he jumped into bed, unable to wake up in your passed out state, that he realized you were there. Fast asleep. Humping the mattress. Minutes of contemplation from him passed by but nothing could prepare you for what you saw when you awoke.
As your eyes slowly opened, your underwear fully soaked from the dream you had, Itachi's smell was stronger- it was more than just his bed. You adjusted your eyes and in your half-asleep state managed to latch on to the shadowy figure next to you: Itachi- with his hand in his boxers gently stroking himself up and down, whimpering ever so softly.
What. the. fuck. was going on. You didn't move a muscle- frozen in your position on your stomach as you tried to make sense of the situation. His hand was in his pants. His hand was stroking his dick! Surely this made no sense? Your thoughts ran rampant, trying to come to an explanation for this situation as you tried to understand that the only logical one was that he didn't you know were in his bed. Surely that was it right? He must've come back from this party, unsuccessful with whatever girl he was pursuing, and instead of winding up in her bed, he came back home to touch himself to the thought of her. That had to be it right?
Suddenly your hips started grinding again- the same as they were doing in your sleep. You simply couldn't help yourself. Despite being unable to actually see Itachi's dick, the blurry visual of his hand in his pants gently touching himself alongside the soft noises that escaped from his lips were enough to make you accidentally let out a moan as you grinded on his bed.
Now, you both were frozen from his realization that you were actually awake after the noise you made.
His hand quickly left his boxers, at the most rapid speed possible and he instantly sat up, his shadowed head facing you in the dark with his eyes slightly squinting.
"Y/n?" He called out with a hint of disgust in his voice. Great. You knew it. You knew he didn't realize you were in his bed and was definitely touching himself to some girl. You had the full view (besides his dick) and you ruined it by letting that moan escape your mouth.
This caused you to sit up as well. "Ita-chi?" you called out, the near- pitch black light of his room not helping. No response.
You hand patted his bed, trying to reach for his arm until you found it and latched onto it, your eyes both meeting in the darkness.
"Itachi? What are you doing?" you asked calmly.
"Y/n, what are you doing?" He replied. "Why the fuck are you in my bed?".... You didn't know what to say.
"I- I don't know.... Sasuke told me that you wouldn't be here tonight and I needed somewhere to fall asleep before everyone left. I was really drunk... I still am, I'm so sorry- please believe me I'll leave now I didn't mean to intrude on a private time of yours," you rambled on an on and started to make your way out of his bed, away from the mess that this was. Until he grabbed your arm. With the same hand that was touching his dick.
"Wait, y/n, it's ok.... You don't have to go." Your eyebrows furrowed as you turned towards him again, the darkness still making it hard to see his face.
"What do you mean?"
"Well.. Sasuke's in his bed so you can't sleep there, and I'm not making you go on the couch downstairs. It's alright. You can spend the night in here, I don't mind."
You slowly crept back under his duvet, keeping a large distance between the two of you as you both sat there in silence. What the fuck was going on? Time passed and what felt like hours was only around one minute of straight silence. You were both trying to figure out what happened and it was sufficiently awkward at this point.
"I'm sorry I was in here while you uh... were.. ya know.. touching yourself. Sasuke told me you might've spent the night by a girl and I assume that you didn't, and needed some alone time to um... 'think of her'. I just didn't realize you came back," you tried to explain, your face showing clear embarrassment if only he could see it in the darkness.
Awkward silence filled the room for a few seconds. "Is that why you were grinding on my bed?" Itachi calmly asked. Fuck. He knows? So why was he touching himself while you were doing that?
"Ok fine. It's incredibly embarrassing but I was having a.. wet dream.. and you just happened to witness it. Nothing more to it."
"Is that why your eyes were open staring at me touching myself?".... Oh fuck. This was really bad. This was a very bad situati- wait.
"How did you know my eyes were open? You could see them?" You asked confusingly.
He didn't reply. You heard a scoff as he reached over to turn on his bedside lamp, a sensory input that distracted you from the horrible awkwardness of the conversation. Now the lights were on. There was no hiding anything. And both of you needed to explain.
"What were you dreaming about?" He asked. Unfortunately for him you were too distracted by the way he looked in the dim light to answer: shirtless, duvet sitting just below his boxers. Enough to see the hard bulge he still had, despite the uncomfortable situation.
"What were you touching yourself to?" You replied.
He paused. "No, y/n, I'm asking you. What were you dreaming about?"
Your eyes darted between his face and his bulge, evidently showing him that you could see it, yet for some reason, he didn't care. He left it on display, and god, were you taking it in. All of it. Sneakily hiding behind his black Calvin Klein boxers.
"Wait. Before I answer that, lemme just get this straight. So we were both practically pleasuring ourselves... in the same room.. in the same bed... while we both knew the other person was doing it?" You questioned. He had to provide answers at this point.
"Yeah." He replied.
That was it. A simple 'yeah'. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Oh come on Itachi, what is going on?"
"First, you'll answer what you were dreaming about."
"Oh my god, for fuck's sake! It was you! Obviously it was you!" you raised your voice, hoping no one else in the house could hear.
And just as the thought managed to process itself in his brain, you could see his dick twitch underneath his boxers. You both froze as seconds passed.
"What... were you touching yourself to..?" You managed to force the question out again despite your shyness at this moment.
"YOU, y/n. You in my shirt, in your fucking drunken, half asleep state, grinding your hips on my bed. That was until you fucking woke up without telling me."
"What?? Me??" You replied.
"God, of course I was. You showed up to my house looking... well.. the way you did. I couldn't stop thinking about it while I was out."
"So it was because of my outfit you got turned on?"
He scoffed. "Y/n, do you really think I haven't noticed you haven't been here for like three weeks?" Every sentence that was said he inched closer and closer to you. "You see this?" He looked down to his bulge. You were speechless. "Nobody's touched it in weeks. Except me. And anytime I have, I've been thinking about you, your face, your..." He paused.
"My what?" You asked, pressing him to answer.
He scooted back, realizing how close he was to you in the bed and all of a sudden looked like he had regretted those words. The entire energy shifted in the room and he abruptly went back to the very cold man he always was to you.
"Maybe you should actually sleep on the couch," he insisted.
Wow. One moment your wildest dream was coming true: his feelings were reciprocated. And then suddenly this? Was he regretting it?
"Itachi-"
"No, you should leave."
A sharp pain filled your chest and you felt hurt, beyond anything you'd felt before. You were slowly getting up to leave, disgusted by everything he exuded, but you knew he felt the same, and this was the one chance you had to fully prove it.
You turned back at him, his face turned away from you, not once grazing your skin. "Itachi, are you serious? Is that actually how you feel?" You inched closer to him. Soon, you were no more than a centimeter away, as you lifted your arm, ready to do something bold. While he still faced forward instead of looking at you, your arm trickled down to his boxers, finally managing to find his throbbing dick and hold it tightly.
You weren't very successful though, because in an instant, he grabbed the wrist of your arm, lifted it off his dick and used his other hand to grab you by the jaw. Now, you two were inches away from each other's face, your breaths mixing in the space between your lips while your eyes remained locked. Itachi spoke low, roughly;
"Y/n, do you have any idea what you're doing?"
"No, but we can deal with the stress of this situation after. I know what I want. I promise."
He paused as his eyes scanned between your lips and your eyes. "I don't mean that."
"Then what do you mean?"
"You can't handle this. It's too much for you." His lock on your wrist tightened.
"I. know. what. I. want."
And with that, both of your heads came crashing together as your lips met, a rough harsh kiss at first, that slowly turned into a slow sensual one as your tongues found each other.
You felt his hands wrap around you while you were still in his shirt as he found himself on top of you, his throbbing bulge meeting your bare pussy with no underwear. You both grinded against each other, giving you a feeling you had never felt before, until he realized you weren't wearing any underwear.
He paused, moved back slightly and stared at your opening fully bare while your legs were spread. He acted like he'd never seen one before with a girl.
"Fuck," he whispered under his breath. "Take the shirt off. Now."
And you did as you were told, leaving your bare tits in his sight as he continued to stare. He stared even more, then leant in, without touching, and whispered in your ear.
"Before I touch any part of you- and fuck I want to so badly- I need you to give me head, naked and pretty like this....... But I need to know that you can handle this, y/n. It's going to be a lot."
Your eyes met each other's as you nodded your head, willing to give him anything. And with that, he stepped off the bed and pulled his boxers down, finally revealing what he had underneath.
His thin, long dick with the prettiest, pink tip sprung out as he gestured you towards him.
"On your knees. Now."
And so you listened.
You dropped your knees to the floor and inched towards his dick, realizing that you had fantasized about it in the past. But what Itachi didn't know is that you had never given head before.
Your mouth opened wide as you let him insert it himself, a small groan escaping his lips once he felt it against your tongue.
You didn't know what to do. You knew that. But before you could attempt to make him feel good, he spoke,
"I'm going to throat fuck you okay?" And you have to take it." You nodded, and let him do what he wanted to you.
It started off slow. A gentle pace as he became more vocal, almost near moaning. But as his pace picked up, you didn't know if you could take it. He began thrusting in an out of your mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat while his hands held your head, and as that happened you couldn't stop yourself from gagging.
"God your mouth feels so good on my cock."
By this point he was practically pounding into your throat, a sensation you had never experienced as tears fled down your cheek. Your eyes closed for a second, trying to catch yourself and let your throat relax, but as you opened your eyes and looked up at him, the tears from gagging turned into real tears. It was too much for you. And he could tell.
He stopped, slowly, but finally came to a stand still as tears still streamed down your eyes. "Y/n, are you okay?" You sat there on your knees in silence, embarrassed that you knew you couldn't handle it.
"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay," he grabbed you from the floor and lifted you up onto his bed as he got under the covers with you. Now you both were fully nude, bodies pressed against each other, but you enjoyed the comfort. It was more than just sexual.
"I'm sorry," you tried to speak amidst the tears, "I've just.... I don't know,"
"What is it? Tell me?"
"It's just that.... I... I have never given head.. And you expect so much.. I don't know what I thought. I knew I couldn't keep up with girls your age. This whole situation is just so much for me."
"Hey, shh, it's okay. Y/n it's okay. We don't have to do anything."
"But I want to," you replied amidst tears.
Itachi sighed. "It's okay. It's my fault for being so rough. I'll take care of you baby, let me show you how I've always wanted to fuck you."
Baby. He called you baby. And with that you agreed, nodding your head and leaning in to kiss him again.
This time it was sensual, your tongues licking each other as his lips trickled down to your neck, finally reaching your tits. He played with them for a bit, gently sucking and squeezing your nipples to force moans from you, until his lips trailed even further down, finally able to make you feel good.
"Such a pretty cunt," he pressed a kiss right on your clit, making your legs buckle. As his tongue flicked your clit in ways you could never imagine, you found yourself moaning very audibly; a sound you thought Itachi would never hear from you. He led you close to your release and sped up even faster, until finally stopping, leaving you upset that he didn't let you finish.
As his head perked back up, his lips red and flushed, he smirked, finally bringing his dick to your entrance, leaning in to whisper in your ear again.
"This may hurt baby, tell me if it hurts and I can either fuck you through the pain or stop. It's all up to you."
You nodded, unable to audibly form words. You simply couldn't wrap your mind around that fact that Itachi was speaking to you like this- like he wanted you. As he lined his dick up with your opening, he slowly pressed in, making way for his cock as you two watched each other forcefully- no eye contact broken. You both moaned, heavily once it finally managed to reach all the way in and Itachi leant in to kiss you as he started thrusting inside you.
His moans grew as well as his words, "Fuck, what a tight cunt," "Good girl, keeping squeezing around my cock." The pace of his thrusts increased as his thumb suddenly found your clit, rubbing it roughly and nearing you to an orgasm. As you locked eyes with his, you felt yourself coming undone the minute he spoke. "That's it- good girl, yes, yes- just like that let it out- show me how you cum" And as you reached your climax, moaning harder than you ever have before, you found yourself extremely close to Itachi: your lips pressed against his and as your mouth was open in an 'O' shape, he mimicked the same, helping you ride out your orgasm.
Once you finally caught yourself, you felt Itachi's dick start moving again inside you, and as his pace picked up you could tell he was close.
"Baby, I'm going to cum in you okay? Has anyone ever done that before?"
And as quickly as you could reply 'no', he came fully undone, groaning heavily as you felt his white cum seep out into you, almost as if him being the first person to release in you tipped him over the edge.
His body weight rested on you, skin to skin while his dick remained inside you and your breaths matched each other's. You couldn't wrap your mind around the events of tonight and how it lead to this although you'd never complain ever again in your life. From seeing Itachi pissed off at you in your bra (which was evidently because he didn't want anyone else to see you like that), to being rough and dominant, to then fucking you sensually, telling you how beautiful you were, you simply felt like you were dreaming.
"Itachi, please pinch me and tell me this is real," you urged.
"It is real, and it's perfect, but it may not be tomorrow... We may have some explaining to do."
You paused, upset at the fact that this night could not last forever.
"Well let's make it last as long as it can- you can be more rough with me... show me that side of you.. I want to experience it."
Itachi smirked, flipping you over immediately onto your stomach and into an arch with your ass in the air.
"Good, because this ass looked like it needed some smacks." And as you felt his massive palm strike down on your right cheek, leaving an obvious mark, you knew that tonight you were about to experience something sexually that you never had before.
Itachi and you bask in the moonlight being shaded by the shoji screens, holding each other close gassing bare skin, arms tightly around one another. You can feel it, the gentle heartbeat coming from his chest as your head lay there. It wasn’t too long when you felt your eyes beginning to sting but not because you are staring at the candle flickering on the dresser.
Your eyes beginning to blur before you feel the warm trickle of liquid slide down the slide of your face, dripping onto Itachi’s skin. His lips part, about to say something, worried for you but he stops, watching as a shaky breath leaves your lips, ready to say what's on your mind. He couldn't help but feel almost scared at what words that are about to fall out your mouth. His arms tighten around you and you nuzzle your face closer to him even though you physically couldn't because your already there.
“I wish I had been born as your heart, so when you’d die… I’d die with you," you say quietly, willing the words to stay inside of you, to bottle it up but you couldn't as they tumble shakily from you swollen lips. Itachi will be gone soon, he'll be gone and you don't know if you could handle it.
Itachi tenses, his whole body freezing up when he processes what you had just said, refusing to believe that such words could be spoken by someone as bubbly as you. He realises that you love him just that much that you wish to go with him and his heart breaks. “Please… please don’t say that.”
Do not copy, steal, modify, etc.
Relogs and like are appreciated.
taglist :: @crushmeeren @ahamasmiyodhah
this happened in my dream a few nights ago and it felt so real, at first i was excited bc i has getting held by itachi but then I STARTED CRYING AND I SAID THAT :((((( i think i also said that bc im rewatching fruits basket for the nth time and i jst finished that ep when rin says that to haru, yes i willingly rewatch fruits basket to go through the pain.
Day 11: No Regrets
— And then he kissed you. Your former lover, now your enemy, kissed you—but you didn’t stop him.
[🌸] Sorry for the delay xD I've been busy. And after all this time, I still love him and I want to make everyone suffer a little, lol! Even though I'd like to, I won't post the days in chronological order haha, but I hope you guys enjoy this anyways <3 (I was thinking about making a month for Sasuke too, should I?)
Characters: itachi uchiha
Warnings: nothing just angst. we die of sadness like Neji
more? here
The rain was falling with a deceptively gentle touch, as if the sky couldn’t decide whether to cry for you both… or for everything that had been lost.
Itachi didn’t say your name. He didn’t even look at you at first. He simply approached, wrapped in that ghostly calm that always seemed to follow him. The lightning behind him made him look unreal, as if he already belonged to another world.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered, though your voice wasn’t firm. It was broken.
“Neither should you,” he replied, still not fully looking at you.
The tension was unbearable. Not just because you now stood on opposite sides, but because of what still hurt. Because of everything left unresolved. Because of all the things left unsaid since the last time your fingers touched—like a promise, not a goodbye.
You took a step forward. Just one. Just enough to notice the shadow beneath his eyes, the dampness in his breath, the slight tremble on his lips.
“Did you come to kill me, Itachi?” you asked, trying to laugh, but the only thing that escaped was a sob.
“...I came to say goodbye.”
You froze. His words were soft. But in his mouth, everything sounded like a sentence. Like his soul had already left, dragging with it everything it was capable of loving.
And then he kissed you.
Your former lover.
Your current enemy.
Your eternal ache.
He kissed you with the desperation of someone who knows it’s the last time. His lips tasted of rain, of lost days, of words never spoken.
And you didn’t stop him.
Because part of you still loved him.
Because part of you wished, in that moment, time could shatter—and everything could go back to how it was before.
That he could be a free man, and you’d be by his side, growing old together. Even in the midst of chaos, even after the sins he committed, your heart still waited for him.
He pulled away. The distance between you was barely a breath.
“Don’t look for me,” he said—and finally, he looked at you. His dark eyes were broken. There were so many things he wanted to say, but the world had been cruel. It never gave him enough time to treat you the way you deserved.
You knew this would be the last time you saw him in front of you. Not in a dream, not as a figment of a longing mind. But here. Alive. Touching you.
And then he vanished in the blink of an eye—
As if it had all been a dream that was never meant to feel so real.
— In which the physical bond between you and Itachi only deepens the longer you're apart. —
a/n: I'm feeling nostalgic, I miss my Naruto era ;(
(Not proofread !!)
It had been so very long since the last time you laid eyes on that crimson, gem-like gaze of his. Nostalgia enveloped your insides as his charcoal locks, which were now grown out longer than you'd last remembered, framed his pale, almost sickly appearance. The man was called many names, a murderer, a threat, a prodigy. However when you stand before him now, watching his cold expression morph into a look of longing, a look of love, the constant pain of distance, many sleepless nights and wondering if he was still alive seem utterly in the past. Itachi Uchiha wasn't just any Shinobi, he was your Shinobi.
"Hi love, It's been a while." His arms wrap so perfectly around your body, almost like their sole purpose was to hold you in them.
"It's been too long Itachi." You reply in a mellow tone, taking in his warm, earthy scent that always felt like home. Most people would bolt in fear at the sight of the Uchiha, but not you, you clung onto him as though he may slip away again if you let go.
“I missed you more than I can put into words." You sighed, as he intertwined his long fingers within your hair.
"You can show me in another way you know?" A hint of tease emerged from his delicate smile. After so much time apart, all you wanted was to feel him more than just surface level, to see the most vulnerable parts of such a powerful man, a man who was seemingly soul-tied to you. Gently pushing the front strands of his hair back onto his ear, you leaned in, breath hitching slightly before meeting his soft, cushion like lips. His body leaned into yours, tracing the silhouette of your hips, with a touch so soft like he was afraid to break you.
Stepping closer towards the bed, you found yourself light headed from the way Itachi's lips grazed over your neck, trailing lower and lower before pausing just before your breasts. "Are you sure about this love?" You knew that if you wanted to stop, he would. However you couldn't help but grin at his unsuccessful attempt at hiding the neediness in his eyes.
"If not with you then who else?" You hushed beside his ear before guiding him on top of you, spreading your legs in order to wrap around his defined waist. Itachi’s breath quivered at your touch against his large, clothed bulge. As his head dropped onto the crook of your neck, you began fiddling with the helm of his shirt, capturing glimpses of his bare chest.
“I’m all yours, do with me as you please.” He almost pleaded once he was left in nothing but his boxers, and you in a pair of underwear. In response, you laced his fingers and placed them on your plush breasts, allowing him to firmly grope you. A moan slipped past your lips as he trailed sloppy kisses down your abdomen. Pealing off the last piece of clothing from your body, two of Itachi’s icy fingers inserted into your already dripping cunt. They were long, and stretched you out as he pumped your walls, observing your features when he curled them or fastened the pace.
The back of your hand strived to cover up the unholy noises which you failed to contain, when all of a sudden the sensation of the Uchiha’s tongue pulsating through your sex hazed you much, much further. “Itachi.. if you continue like this I’ll..” Your words slurred, and as if without conscious thought, your hands passed though your legs and into the dark locks of your beloved. His mouth trailed like clockwork when you felt the rush of blissful climax engulf your body.
Itachi watched as your chest rose and fell with the heavy panting that turned him on more than he’d like to admit. Once you’d reached your senses, the intense yearning for more pulsated through you. Taking the initiative, you crawled onto his lap, straddling him with your bare sex before you felt the sheer size of his cock poking beneath you. Rubbing your cunt back and forth, the soft grunts emerging for Itachi’s flushed face gave you the courage to pull down his boxers. “Are you sure it’ll fit?” You hesitated.
“We’ll make it work love.” Itachi smiled ever so sweetly, before placing you on your back and aligning himself at your entrance. As he pushed in, you gasped at how your walls filled to the brim with his length. “You’re doing so well sweetheart,” he connected his lips against yours, taking in each whimper from the kiss. Once he pulled away with beads of sweat dripping down his body, the sight of his bulge poking at your stomach left you astounded.
The shinobi groaned in pleasure as his hips developed rhythm, pulling in and out with each thrust. Your arms reached for his back, nails digging into his flesh whenever you felt him go in particularly deep. This was the sight you craved for more than anything. To feel Itachi all around you, to have every inch touched by him and him only. His lashes fluttered in your direction, revealing an expression that was filled with so much emotion, yet so little comprehension. His base slammed into you repeatedly until you let out moans of utter satisfaction.
Itachi’s pace faltered once he reached his peak, his eyelids lowered and his groans turn into jagged breaths. The Uchiha’s bare frame laid on top of yours, allowing you to enjoy the comfortable silence whilst you spent time entangled within one another for perhaps the last time. On the inside, you began appreciating how smooth his skin was, the number moles plastered across his face, and even the dusty pink shade of his lips.
For a moment, the still atmosphere was broken when Itachi cupped the side of your face, reaching for your lips once more as he spoke up in a tone laced with nothing but affection and heartache. “Thank you.. for loving me.”
The war had ended. Others celebrated. I wandered. Villages I once knew were filled with faces I did not recognize. Children laughed in streets I could not enter. Friends and family had moved on or died. And yet, through it all, the pull of her remained — invisible, relentless, haunting.
I crossed rivers swollen with spring melt, scaled mountains in storms, and slept under the stars, wrapped in nothing but my cloak and memory. Every wound I carried, every scar that ached in the night, was softened only by the thought of returning to her, of seeing her smile again, of simply knowing she was alive.
The first drops fell as I reached the edge of the village.
At first, it was only a drizzle — a quiet tapping on the leaves — but soon the rain deepened, steady and cold, painting the world in shades of silver. Mist gathered low over the roofs, and the scent of wet earth filled the air.
I walked slowly, the rain sliding down my cloak, each step heavier than the one before. When the road curved, I saw it — a small house painted in soft blue, light trembling faintly behind its windows.
I stopped.
The sound of the rain swelled around me, a curtain between the present and everything I had left behind. I hadn’t meant to stop. I hadn’t meant to find this place again. Yet my feet refused to move.
My hand lifted, hesitated — inches from the door I had memorized in another life.
For years I had taught my heart to be still, to endure silence and war. But at that moment, as thunder rolled faintly in the distance, it betrayed me with a tremor I could not suppress.
I knocked.
The door opened slowly, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed suspended. Her eyes — wide, uncomprehending — met mine. Time itself seemed uncertain, stretching and bending around that one moment.
“…Itachi?” Her voice trembled, soft, almost fragile.
I bowed my head, the words I had prepared dissolving in my throat.
“…It’s been a long time.”
The rain whispered between us, filling the silence that followed. Then, perhaps out of habit or mercy, she stepped aside.
“Come in. You’ll catch cold.”
The faint scent of herbs and bread lingered, and the walls were lined with photographs: a man smiling beside her, a small child laughing with her eyes. My chest constricted. Years of survival, of solitude, of bearing the weight of the world alone, pressed down on me.
I shouldn’t have looked, but I did. My eyes lingered on it longer than I meant to.
She noticed. “He’s three,” she said quietly. Her voice trembled, but she tried to steady it with a smile. “He likes painting on the walls....”
She looked down, her fingers tightening on the edge of the table. “...Come sit down."
Then silence again. Only the rain against the roof.
For a while we spoke of small things—the weather, the village, how peaceful it had become. Each word was a bridge built and burned in the same breath.
Silence. Then my eyes caught the window—the faint outline of the garden outside. Overgrown, but alive. Hydrangeas, the kind she once told me reminded her of summer rain.
My voice came before thought. “You kept the garden.”
She turned to the window too. “I couldn’t let it die,” she said. Then quieter: “It felt like if I did, I’d lose the last part of you.”
And then there was nothing left to say. Only the rain dared to speak. Every glance carried the absence of years, the spaces between us filled with all the things we could not say.
I studied her hands as she lifted a cup of tea, noticing the slight tremor in her fingers. The faint curve of her lips when she thought no one was watching. The way her shoulders bore the quiet strength of someone who had carried life without me. I wanted to speak, to reach across the impossible chasm, to tell her everything I had endured, everything I had survived for her—but the words lodged in my throat.
Minutes passed in careful silence. The rain outside drummed steadily against the windows, a soft, insistent reminder of the world beyond. I could feel my chest tighten with each heartbeat, each memory that threatened to spill over.
When at last the tea grew cold, I stood. “I should go,” I said, though my voice didn’t sound like my own.
She didn’t move. Only followed me to the door.
The rain had thinned into a mist, soft and unhurried. I stood beneath the eaves for a moment, unsure what to do with my hands. The garden stretched out before me, trembling with raindrops, every leaf glinting faintly under the gray light.
I wanted to remember it like this—alive, tended, breathing in a way I no longer could.
I stepped onto the path. The gravel crunched beneath my sandals, each sound carrying farther than it should. I did not look back.
But I heard it—the sound of her voice cutting through the rain.
“Itachi!”
I turned.
She was running toward me, barefoot, the rain catching in her hair, her hands trembling as she reached for me. And before I could say anything, she collided into me—her arms around me, her face pressed against my chest, sobbing as if the world had waited for this sound.
I froze, but she didn’t falter. The rain poured over us, soaking our clothes, plastering our hair to our heads.
“They told me I was crazy!” she cried, her voice trembling, raw. “They said you were gone! They said I had to move on! But I never… I never believed them! I knew… I always knew you were alive!”
I closed my eyes, the rain seeping through my clothes, her voice breaking in pieces against me.
“I waited,” she said. “For so long. But they told me I had to let you go. That you were gone.”
I held her tightly, letting the rain cloak our silence. Her sobs pressed against my chest, and in them, I felt every lost year, every lonely night, every scar I had carried alone.
I wanted to speak. To tell her that I had thought of her in every moment between battle and breath—that the memory of her laughter had been the only thing that kept me human when I was drowning in blood and silence. But the words caught somewhere deep, too full to pass my throat.
Instead, I reached up and rested my hand against her hair, the way I used to.
“It’s all right,” I said quietly. “You don’t have to explain.”
She shook her head, tears mixing with the rain. “I can’t just let you go again. Not now. Not after—”
Her voice broke. The world was unbearably still.
Her hands gripped my robesI wanted to tell her that I would stay. That I could find a way to belong again. But in her eyes I saw the life she had built—the home, the warmth, the small hand that would reach for her at dawn. That life did not belong to me.
She buried her face against me, shaking her head. “Please—don’t do this... don't leave me again."
For a moment, I let myself hold her. The rain fell harder, blurring the world around us until only the sound of our hearts remained.
Her pulse was frantic against mine—alive, stubborn, human. Everything I had once fought to protect.
I wanted to tell her I still loved her, that every road I took had led me here, to this impossible moment. But what right did I have to steal back the peace she’d earned from the ashes I left behind?
So instead, I whispered, voice breaking around the words:
“You built something beautiful… something I could never give you. Don’t let it fall apart because of me.”
She looked up at me through her tears, eyes wide, searching—as if she could find a way for the world to bend and make space for us again.
I brushed my thumb against her cheek, memorizing the warmth there.
“The life you have now—it’s what I always wanted for you,” I said softly. “A world that keeps you safe, even when I can’t.”
The words tasted like blood and rain. I forced a small smile—the kind meant only to hide what it costs to walk away.
“Don’t lose it. Not for me.”
She broke against me, her sobs muffled by the rain, her hands gripping my cloak like she could keep me there through sheer will.
For a heartbeat, I let her. I let the years collapse between us, just once.
Then she stumbled—her knees giving way beneath the weight of everything she couldn’t say.
I caught her before she fell. Her body was trembling, soaked through, small in my arms.
“It’s all right,” I whispered, though nothing about it was.
Carefully, I lifted her—she was lighter than I remembered—and carried her back toward the house.
The rain softened around us, as if even the storm itself was holding its breath.
The path was slick, the garden alive with the scent of earth and hydrangea. I remembered when we planted them together, how she said blue was the color of quiet hope. Now they bowed under the rain, their petals heavy and glistening.
When I reached the porch, I paused. The door was still open, warm light spilling out into the dusk.
She stirred faintly in my arms, whispering my name.
“Itachi…”
I looked at her one last time. Her lashes clung to her cheeks, her lips parted as if another word might save us.
There was nothing left to say.
I stepped inside just far enough to set her down on the couch. Her hand slid from my sleeve as I stood.
For a moment, I let myself look around—the soft blue walls, the photographs, the life I had never lived. The smell of tea still lingered, faint and familiar.
And then I turned toward the door.
I didn’t look back as I stepped into the rain.
The world outside was dim and endless. My cloak clung heavy to my shoulders, the path already washing clean behind me.
Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled—low and distant, like a promise too old to keep.
I walked until the house disappeared, until even the memory of her voice dissolved into the sound of falling rain.
