New World (8)
Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff
Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.
Warnings: horny babygirls
Word Count: Your girls got horny writing this. I can't remember the last time I gushed like this. ALso Every fanfic reader/writers nightmare in one chapter
MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)
"What the hell is this?" You whisper to yourself, standing alone in the dressing room with the most intricate Sakura painting on the paper walls, lit up by the lanterns kept in two corners. The night robe you have been given has too much flare. The fabric of the red night dress is soft to the touch and breathable. But the robe that comes over it has practically been doused in fur not letting any cold air pass through. But the reason behind your cussing has less to do with that warm robe than with the fact that your underwear is nowhere to be seen. The night dress does run down to your knees but the thought of not being in your panties and having to sleep in the enemy territory for the night makes you uncomfortable. Not to mention the constant dreadful feeling of being watched by Toge from some corner of this village. With one stretched sigh, you leave the dressing room. The bedroom awaits you with a bed decorated with the local pink rose petals and towel swans.
A little thread inside you snaps on inhaling the overpowering smell of the roses and incense. You stomp to the corner of the bed, take the white bedsheet, pull out all four corners to wrap the roses inside them and throw them outside the huge window overlooking the village before closing it shut.
Just once you want to take an easy breath on this mission. Just once. And that too seems hard to get. Especially with him around, your inner voice whispers. You do not want your thoughts to go that way, but this little devil inside you smirks and struts towards some extraordinarily shady corners in your mind. Quiet, you tell your inner voice, he makes me feel safe, shushing it as if it has spoken something outrageous. Safe enough for you to imagine yourself all over his skin. She whispers the last few words with a stressed honey-filled whisper of a moan. And with that, that image of his naked torso in the hot springs flashes in front of your eyes. Your teeth involuntarily biting down on your lips to get a hold of the reality before those outrageously defined thoughts go too far. The sliding of your bedroom door jolts you awake from your fantasy world and makes you turn around to see the familiar tall figure bow down a little to enter the room without hitting his head on the door frame.
"I brought blankets," Itachi declares with the heavy elk fur blankets looking like they weigh nothing to the man. Itachi is wearing a black fur robe which appears to be his night gown. His chest is bare and so are his ankles. His hair is loose and wet from a fresh wash and you are starting to regret having dark back alleys in your mind. The room now starts to feel small in his presence; a presence which feels positively heavy. Keeping the blankets on the bed, he moves his hand to run back those wet strands away from his face. "I feel like we should ask the village Chief to hold their...uh...ritual...ceremony...what all they call it...today-tonight. Right now." Your staggered voice is not helping your case as your eyes run up from his elbows to his arms, drawing some sketchy scenes inside your head. "Do not push yourself, Y/N-san. You need to rest." It's not your fault. It's not your fault. A voice keeps repeating that inside your head. It's the way he says your name. You do not realise when your body is flushed, sweat droplets form at your temples and the back of your neck. Itachi pauses momentarily beside the bed while you blink blankly at him. He looks at you for a second before moving again. "Let me check for any traps in the room." You nod and press yourself close to the window and out of his way. As he takes careful feline steps along the length of the room, your eyes focus on his fingers brushing against the oakwood dresser kept by the wall, your throat takes an unpreventable gulp. The source of light in this room is the oil lamps burning in the corners to give this room a pinkish hue, thanks to the Sakura theme. The only light brighter than that is the golden hues of the bonfire lit on the temple grounds across the hill. He touches the wall to discover anything unusual, his steps bringing him closer to you. His dominant hand wraps itself around the jug of alcohol to raise it closer to his face and your eyes cannot help but follow the nimble pale fingers morphing into an abstract art of popping veins down the wrist. His lips touch the jug, taking in a sip that glides down his throat. The soft golden fiery hues lighting up his features just enough in the dark are not helping your conscience in her dark alley. At all. His brows furrow momentarily, making you wonder if something is wrong with the drink. And the next second he is choking on it, his hand nearly slipping the jug and a decent bit of that alcohol spilling on his robe.
"Itachi-san! Are you okay?" You quickly grab the hand towels on the dresser behind you and dash towards him; that is what you think you do till his hand rises to make you pause right where you have been standing. Itachi coughs a bit before clearing his throat. His back straightens up and he nods. "I'm fine. The drink is...well, I've tasted better." Of course, you have. You still stand in your spot, but your hand stretches to hand him a towel. He takes it to wipe his mouth before his wet robe takes up his attention. A huge sigh leaves his lungs. "Pardon me," he declares in a low hum as his fingers undo the knot on his robe and his shoulders flex themselves to let the fabric glide off his back. Your breath is caught in your throat till you realise he is wearing white trousers underneath. Itachi folds the fabric when something catches his eye. Watching him step away from you and towards the bed sinks your heart. He stops at the edge of the bed and gets on his knees. Itachi wastes no time being on all fours and crawling just a few inches underneath the space, looking for something. On the other hand, you are glaring at his other arm that acts as his anchor, his robe between his fingers; the fingers gripping the fabric till he has found what he is looking for. And when he comes back to sit on his knees, you exhale a little, grabbing onto the window sill as your legs cross over each other and you try your best to look away from the pink-shaded abs teasing you from the distance. His hand has brought out a red cloth from underneath the bed. The cloth shines with a silken finish in his hands as he twists the fabric in one hand, wrapping it up neatly. "Don't touch this," he announces, tucking the fabric in his trouser's back pocket. "Yes, sir," you whisper without realising. And immediately regretting it. Itachi must have not heard it, for he gets up and walks past you to the other side of the room, leaving you to ravel in his natural redolence. The lone table at the other end of the room is graced by his hands on either side, curious if it can be pulled away from the wall. His arms are flexing, and so are the muscles on his back as he tries to pull the table towards him, his hips feeling the tethered force of the measle piece of furniture, forcing a low grunt to escape. Your left hand is clawing its nails into the window frame while your right thumb is being bit under your teeth with all your might. Get out of that alley, you are panting at your conscience. Please. Please. Please! The table is torn from the wall and thrown into the paper wall covering the dressing room. The remaining wood in the indents of the wall reveals two black bricks. The former assassin quickly picks one in each hand and turns to walk towards you. "Open the window," he commands in a low tone. You religiously move your hands to open the latches. Even before you are done pushing the window frames out, you feel his arms come over from behind you and throw out the bricks from either side. You turn around, calculating the proximity between you and his chest. While he is busy frowning out the window at what was possibly an attempt to poison you two, your eyes go up to land on his jaw, studying the skin, the texture, the turns; a little too well. The sound of splintering wood brings you out of the trance. Itachi's bare hands have broken the frame of the window behind you and instead of tending to the wound where a splinter has gashed through the skin of his hand, he is looking at you with the intensity of a thousand suns. Only this time you are concentrating on his wound. "You're hurt-" "I need to go," Itachi declares, taking the ripped frame with him and walking out of the door, leaving you confused. Lustful and confused.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
"You go in. I'll survey the surroundings here," Kakashi announces, disappearing into the night before Itachi can say anything about being handed the elk fur blankets. You are the only person present in the wing at this moment and he has his senses on high alert. Higher than usual. I do not trust the men here, he justifies in his internal monologue, pausing his quiet steps outside the door as he is flashed with memories of his bare chest in the hot springs. His mind has paused all the calculations now. It is purely curious now. And with that intention, he enters the room, declaring his presence. Keeping the blankets on the bed, he moves his wet hair away from his face to appear a little decent in front of you. "I feel like we should ask the village Chief to hold their...uh...ritual...ceremony...what all they call it...today-tonight. Right now."
He can hear you. Loud and clear. But his mind is showing him his exposed arm pressing onto a thigh. He pauses. Must be some third-grade trickery by the village assassins, he thinks to himself. "Do not push yourself, Y/N-san. You need to rest." It's not your fault, he can hear the words being whispered somewhere. It's not your fault, they are echoing. With a voice too familiar to him these days. It's the way he says your name. It's you. It's your voice. And accompanied by your voice are flashes of sweat droplets running down from your temples, travelling your jaw to hurry down your neck. Itachi pauses, questioning how you are doing that. You are not, he answers the question himself and looks at you for a second to grasp any traces of Gen Jutsu around you. "Let me check for any traps in the room," he announces before moving to the nearest wall. When he brushes his fingers against the oakwood dresser, the flash comes again. This time, not as hazy as before. His fingers seem to be running over a bare abdomen, creating ripples of goosebumps. This time he can feel the skin under his fingertips and a familiar aroma in his nostrils. He moves his hand away from the table to the wall, investigating for anything out of the ordinary; that is, apart from the twisted psych attacks- if one can call them that. He can hear your heart beat faster as the distance between you closes. He pauses at the table between you two, reaching for the jug of alcohol kept on the table. The flashes come again when he raises the jug to his mouth. This time, his hand is gripping a neck, bringing it closer to him. He can smell that aroma again, this time the touch is heated and the neck is flushed. And his lips- which were reaching for the alcohol mere seconds ago- are kissing yours. When the kiss has deepened to the point of you moaning and his tongue wanting to taste your mouth, he realises the twisted reality, surprising himself into choking on the drink and spilling some onto his robe.
He hears you worry, making him raise his hand to stop you from coming any closer. "I'm fine," he coughs, apologising for his ungentlemanly behaviour. He takes the towel you offer, not able to get that image out of his mind. Itachi's instincts are riled up, his mind working ten steps ahead, ready to test the waters all the while making sure he does not cross any lines. He begs your pardon as he gets out of the wet robe. There is that aroma again. Your scent. Covering him all over. If it's the scent then there has to be- His thoughts trail off as he finally finds what he is looking for. He walks to the side of the bed and gets on his knees, to reach for the red fabric resting under the bed space. The talisman. Just when he grabs it, flashes of him gripping the silk sheets on the bed run through his mind. But that is not all. He can see his naked back clear as day, even that moles, and he can see you laying between him and the sheets looking up at him with a want. He is panting for breaths, and so are you. He can feel the drops of sweat run down his chest while he is devouring the view of your breasts glistening. Even as he comes back to sit on his knees, he can feel his hand run the length of your thighs, with your legs wrapped around his waist. The flash disappears, but the sensations remain in his mind. He seems to know what is going on but does not say. His hands work on folding the fabric and keeping it somewhere away from you. "Don't touch this," he declares as he puts the fabric in his pocket. "Yes sir," he can hear the microscopic stagger of your heated exhale in that whisper and the fog of that flash bring the sensation of a hand run over his butt. His mind curses. He does not remember the last time he cursed like this. Or that last time he felt so...filthy. But rip it in the bud, he grows internally to himself before getting up and walking to the last place that seemed suspicious- the table lodged into the wall on the other side of the room. He grabs the edges on either side to move it away from the wall, wanting the flashes to stop. To stop or else... The frustration shows externally when a grunt escapes him at the failed pull. And so it comes again.
This time you are on the table, your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging into his back. His flawless butt is exposed to the room as it jiggles with him sloppily rutting into you with the familiar grunts, bringing periodic coarse moans out of you. Please. He hears your voice. And he can see your face. He can see your body moving every time he pushes into you. Your eyes are tearing up. Your mouth is open wide at the edge of pleasure. Please, you beg again, this time urgently. Itachi feels his pace rush as if his body is running on your commands. Please! That moan of yours is turning into a growl as your head falls back at the peak of your climax. And before he can reach his, the table is torn away from the wall to be thrown away, bringing him back to his reality. And there they are, resting in the nook hidden in the wall- black brick-shaped gemstones. They are still hot when Itachi grabs them and orders you to open the window. Just as your hands have pushed the panes away, he throws the stones out, down the hill. He only breathes once he has heard them crash into pieces against the rocks underneath, resting one hand on the window frame. But they come again. This time with the touch of your fingers on his jaw, lazily running down his neck before he feels your teeth dig into his skin right where his jaw meets his neck. He snaps. At least that is what he thinks he did. It is the window frame that has been snapped instead. And all he can do is look at you; your eyes with no unadulterated intentions behind them as they worry about the blood that is not yours. "I need to go." He knows if he stays a second longer, he might do something there will be no coming back from. Rushing out the door bare-chested, he is already running into Kakashi in the corridor. For the first time in his life, Itachi seems the situation- that heavily involves him- requires an explanation. "There's-" "Geisha's Opals inside? From the smell I could guess there were two stones." Kakashi seems to have figured it out. "I waking the chief up to prepare the ritual." Itachi nods. He wants to say something more but all he can do is inhale a lungful. "She doesn't realise her thoughts are more graphic than the latest volume of my favourite Icha Icha Paradise novels," Kakashi exhales, visibly tired. "You could see them-" "The burned Opals along with a rose incense are powerful aphrodisiacs," Kakashi explains with his hands as if he was having a casual conversation with his colleague, "combine that with her empath skills, she created an atomic flash of...well..." he gestures vaguely at everything and then at Itachi. "Dress up, let's just get this over with," Kakashi admits before disappearing into the night again, leaving Itachi to make peace with the fact that the Konoha village's Silver Fang saw everything. Every. Single. Flash.