Doll at the Windowsill, a naruto fanfic

He was a warlord. Proud, fierce, and feared by all.

With an intellect that destroyed armies, and brute strength that crushed his foes under his fingertips, his name spread throughout the entire land of fire- striking fear in the hearts of men. Madara bowed to no one- not even Death. No creature alive could ever sway the monster within the shadow's moon.

At least, that was what the legends believed.

It was at the cusp of his latest conquest when he returned to his chambers and saw the woman that sat on his windowsill. The moonlight bathed her in ethereal glow that almost made her look inhuman. His armor clanked loudly as he approached the intruder. No one, not even his own brother, was allowed to enter his sanctuary without permission. No one would dare try to assassinate him anyway unless they want to return in nothing but severed limbs or flayed skin or wolf-gnawed bones.

Once at her feet, his eyes had granted a better look at her and he stilled. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. With creamy skin that glowed under the moonlight, eyes of virgin forest greens, lips of natural rose red, and her hair- oh her petal pink hair that transcend the most expensive silk. She sat regally by his window, like a throne she declared for herself. The eastern wind that kissed her cheeks billowed her hair and white thin yukata. He couldn't tear his eyes from the transparent cloth that teased his eyes of her bare breast and thighs underneath; which served to fuel his growing lust.

When she finally turned to him, she smiled. Her hand laid flat on his chest, right where his heart was, and he let her, as she shamelessly pressed herself to his body.

"My lord, my lord," she began. Her voice like a melody of a siren's song, "you have returned. You have returned to me."

"Tell me, my sweet, what may your name be?" he asked with his hand over hers. The other caressed the smooth expanse of her arm.

"To know my name is of great consequence," she stood on her toes to whisper in his ear the best she can. Her breath barely fanned the lobes as she grazed her lips to his jaw, "You may call me what you wish."

In the silent sanctuary of his room, where he could release all his inhibitions, where he could forget his purpose, where he could grant himself a taste of heaven or a moment of hell, where he could relish in a fool's reprieve without the consequences that lurked within, Madara forgone his cup and drank straight from the bottle of wine like a man in thirst.

She was short, a full head shorter than him, but her face looked so young, so beautiful. A woman at the cusp of her beauty.

"Did my brother sent you to me? The elders? Never have I seen your face before," he ran the back of his hand down the side of her face, almost tenderly, lovingly.

"I come of my own accord, my lord," she said as she pried his own clothes open and he lets her touch him. His chest, his abs, and the heavy bulge underneath.

He tugged on her yukata and she stepped away for the cotton to fall off her shoulders and pool at her feet. His dark eyes ghosted with lust as he drank the sight of her nudity. So precious, unmarred, perfect, and as smooth as a newborn's skin.

Madara is a man of conquest. Who is he to deny this creature more than willing to lay with him?

So he grabbed her chin and smashed their lips together. He was not gentle, he never was. Madara drank greedily her moans and whimpers. His large, calloused hands roamed every inch of her delicate skin. Even then she welcomed all of him. When he pushed his tongue through her plump pink lips, she gladly opened her mouth and used her own tongue to war with his. Never for dominance, she let him conquer her but she also gave back with gentle licks and lust-fueled moans.

And when she moved to remove his hakama, he parted with his estranged lover and chuckled at the moan of disappointment from her. Madara pushed her down on his bed, and almost ripped his hakama in impatience. Never in all the lovers he laid with has he ever experienced anything such as this. Like the predator that he was, he would usually stalk with his prey; let the foreplay carry on till he's hard as steel. Yet with this woman, he threw caution to the wind and pounced on her immediately like a madman deprived of food and water.

He stared with barely contained lust as she squirmed in his silk sheets like a cat in heat. Long, pink hair fanned out her head like a halo that almost made her holy, sacred even. He couldn't help the guttural groan that came from within when she reached down and parted her soaking nether lips. While her other hand played with the nub that sent her arching and keening for more. Never had ever seen a cunt as beautiful and otherworldly as hers. It makes him want to take it, to own it, to drown in it.

Two sharp strokes from his hard cock later and he was over her. His own long, dark, wild mane draped over them like thick curtains. The world and everything else became nonexistent as he stared in the deep depths of her beautiful verdant eyes. Like an eager young man who would lay with a woman for the first time, Madara sunk his cock within her. And he gasped as her slick folds willingly swallowed all of him.

"So tight…" his breath hitched for every inch that swallowed him, and when his balls laid flush with her sopping nether lips, his heart fluttered with carnal pleasure and excitement as he latched onto her beautiful breasts. Breasts not too big nor too small, yet they fit his hands perfectly as if made for him. Whilst he suckled on one teat, he pinched and rubbed with the other.

More and more he drowned in the beauty and accepted the ethereality that was her. The ferocious general feared by all was reduced into a hot, desperate, moaning mess of a man overwhelmed by the lust delivered onto him by this creature. He decided then that he would keep her for himself.

The fingers that threaded along his hair tugged him back and Madara was forced to look at her once again. Her cheeks flushed with deep red as she moved with his steady thrusts. He wanted to feel every single inch of her. To brand the feel of her hot inner walls hold onto his cock like a vice. Yet her eyes burned with green fire; authority and regality spilled from her tongue like sweet honey.

"Worship me," she demanded, and Madara keened as her inner walls clenched around him ever more tightly. She coaxed him again with the drag of her nails down his back that sent jolts of lightning up his spine, "Worship me, my lord. Worship me."

By then his mind turned into nothing but a pile of mush. For each of his senses focused on nothing but her and the tightness around his cock. He was even panting. Hot breath blew from parted lips with each drag and push of his hips like the ocean tide. He had never experienced anything like this before. Never felt anything that closely remote to this before. To think it would be evoked by this one woman…

He must keep her.

With a strength he didn't realize she could muster, Madara found himself pushed and laid flat on his back. His ethereal lover poised on top of him with his hard cock still impaled within her delicious cunt. She took his hands and placed them on her hips, and Madara was more than willing to hold on those luscious hips.

"Worship me," she demanded once more. Her voice grew husky with need as she grounded her hips. Each roll and thrusting motion sent her head toppling back but she relented as she repeated. Never increased or slow down her movements, "Worship me, Madara. Worship me!"

"Sakura…" Madara moaned. He didn't know where he learned that name. Yet he thought it befitting and repeated, "Sakura."

Like a permission granted, the pinkette above him rolled her hips in increasing speed. His own eyes never once strayed from her beautiful, flushed face and panting breaths as he also thrusted his hips with his own in hopes of reaching farther inside her sacred depths.

"Again!" she ordered.

"Sakura… Sakura… beautiful Sakura…" he keened and she moved faster with each adoration of her name. "Oh I could keep fucking you forever."

He roamed his hands from her hips to her thighs until he was grasping at her pert derriere. And his feet laid flat on the sheets as leverage for him to thrust harder. Oh how he marveled the way her sweet breasts moved with every thrust and roll of her hips. How her pert nipples made him salivate for the want to suckle on them more.

"Sakuraaaa," Madara hissed. His heart thundered in his chest as his nerves set fire all the way to his loins. "Beloved… how I worship your eyes, your lips, your breasts, your thighs, and your sweet cunt."

Her fingers entwined with his as he reached up to cup her breasts.

"Oh sweet daughter of spring, queen and mother to all," their movements increased for every prayer that fell on his lips, "I am all yours, my beloved queen. For shame to any who dared to question your beauty! I will tear their tongues and flay their skin, their bones be fed to dogs as I offer all that I have to you. My beloved queen I bow my head in worship for you-! Oh gods you feel so incredible!"

"Keep going, my sweet," she purred as he panted harsh breaths. Her cunt rewarded him for every praise that it destroyed his mind till all he could think of was her and how to worship her even more. "My darling, my lord, my Madara..."

The way she played with his name on her tongue sent him careening off the edges of sanity. He wanted to pleasure her more, please her more, worship her more.

"I give you all that I have!" he declared. Hands fell back on circling hips as he drove his cock harder into her sweet pussy. The sloppy sounds of wet skin echoed throughout his room amidst their harsh grunts, keening moans and ragged pants, "All my wealth, my title, my blood, my life, my soul! All for you, anything for you; and I beg that you reward me of you."

He could feel himself right at the edge.

"All of you."

His balls tightened, ready to spill his seed.

"Only you!"

Madara thrusted hard once, twice, until he finally let go and offered himself to his beloved Sakura. Shivers continue to rake down his spine for every gush of sperm that coated with her inner walls. All he could see was pure, hazy white behind his eyelids while his tongue continue to recite her name in adoration. When she fell from her own high, his arms were wide open to receive her. Yet her cunt continued to massage his shaft for the last bit of his seed.

Even after spent, Madara never held his lovers, nor does he ever kiss, stroke, and breathe their scent. And he most certainly does not hold them close throughout the night.

"Sakura…" he breathed her name in finality before he succumbed to slumber.

Unbeknownst to him, the most he first called out her name, he had already sealed his fate.

In the morning, he would find his lover gone. Instead a doll of pink hair dressed in white kimono, with black tomoe designed on the fabric and gold and purple lined the edges of her noble garb. The doll wore the clothes of the gods like Kaguya, from the stories his mother told him as a child. It sat there silently, forever still and unmoving by his windowsill and would never leave until he drew his last breath.

Since then, he bought her gifts of finest silk and rarest jewelries. The more he gave, the more time she rewarded him to bask in her presence. And for her every visit, he made love to her in the sweetest, most desperate ways. But then came the time when fineries weren't enough. He knew this for the nights they spent became less and less. And for each moment of absent he grew madder than he already was.

In despair, he asked her one night what more she could want, what more could he gift. For nothing was unattainable if it meant he could keep her by his side. She smiled at him that night, and answered.

He resumed to the battlefield. For every village he plundered, for every land he claimed, for every blood he spilled, he offered in her name. As promised, she returned. And her visits grew even during the day. Madara banned anyone from ever entering his room, and on the times of her absence, Madara coped with the doll that he worshipped as her. He would carry it everywhere he went, and whisper sweet nothings and highest praises as he caressed her pink locks. And when his ears heard of the slightest misuse of his beloved's name, Madara would instantly grow hot with rage and decapitate their heads from their shoulders.

His own people and soldiers began to fear him even more since then.

Madara would continue on with this path of madness, up to the point he became inconsolable and his own brother abandoned him. All that mattered to him now was the precious doll in his hands, and the name he cried in utter adoration he called wife.

Even when there were no armies to fight with him, even when there were no more bodies left to spill blood from, even when she stopped gracing him with her presence, he would continue to worship her. Chant her a prayer every day and night. Resort to theft and baseless murder just to offer in her name.

'-and in three years the Mad General had met his end through the fires of the people he once called his own. Historians revealed that all the treasure the Mad General left for his lover and proclaimed wife, which included gold, jewelries, expensive cloths, deeds of lands, titles, etc., have proven to be missing even to this day. Uchiha Madara perished in the fire yet not a single one of his wealth has been traced. Historical professors from the University of Naka, believed that the Mad General's treasures have been retrieved by his younger brother- Uchiha Izuna- before he died in the fire. Though that was the most accepted theory, no evidence has ever been uncovered to support this.

The mystery of what drove the once great and powerful general of the warring states era had always been up for debate even today. Some argued that it was all due a mental sickness that drove General Madara insane, some say it was all a ruse created by his enemies, but some also believed that something supernatural had haunted the general to the brink of insanity. As brief mentions of a pink-haired doll appeared in the journals created by Uchiha Izuna. Still, there is not enough evidence to support whether the doll has been real or merely a figment of the Mad General's imagination.'

Uchiha Itachi had to stop there. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyelids carefully. It was ludicrous, really. Here he was, a fresh graduate and promising lawyer reading articles about history and researching about the supernatural.

He was starting to regret attending with his father in that antique auction.

The auctioneers said that the golden box held an item that once belonged to the Uchiha clan during the Warring States Period. Predictably, being the proud Uchiha that he was, his father couldn't just pass up the opportunity to retrieve an old Uchiha treasure.

Itachi only saw the contents of the box once, inside was a perfectly kept doll designed in an era centuries ago wearing the kimono of the mythical goddess- Kaguya and laid in velvet cushions. However since then he can't shake off the feeling that something was off about the doll. His father told him that the doll would be delivered to the museum in the Uchiha clan's section for propriety's sake. For now, it was kept in the basement of the mansion for safekeeping.

If only he left well enough alone, then his curiosity wouldn't have to be his downfall.

Itachi grew insurmountably curious on the day he saw the doll and thus began his own research. He learned that the previous owner was a history college professor from Konoha University who recently died from a suicidal car crash. He was holding onto the box when the emergency crew brought him out of the ravine. His bank account that once reached millions from honest savings had been completely wiped out with no record of withdrawal except for the testament from bank clerks that verified Mr. Hatake's account existence.

From there he researched other owners of the doll and all of his search gave him gruesome results. The doll reached all over the place from a shark fisherman from Kiri, a pyrotechnician from Iwa, a Kumo dignitary whose sudden death was all over the news, a politician and an artist from Suna, and the oldest he had unearthed was from the death of an engineer from the Senju clan a few decades ago.

He was never one for superstitions, nor did he ever believe in the supernatural, but as he realized that all these deaths had never been linked to the sole doll all of them possessed, he can't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. Now he couldn't even recall the words from the mythology book he read about Kaguya's daughter.

She brought fire unto man and breathed life onto babes.

She drank from her mother's moon and her blood became the sea.

Heaven and earth adored her,

and her mother and her creatures revered her.

Itachi took a deep breath, closed his laptop, and gathered the printed news articles under a paper weight. He made sure to close the lights as he moved around his apartment. Under the spray of the water jets of his shower, Itachi convinced himself that whatever cruel joke that surrounded that doll has got to stop. Though he still isn't a firm believer of the supernatural, he couldn't risk it being around his family. Especially Sasuke.

Tomorrow, he'd make sure that the doll would be sent to the museum as soon as possible with extra precautions.

Haunted dolls be damned.

However, as Itachi stepped out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, right there, sitting on the windowsill near his bed, was a beautiful young woman with short hair and dazzling green eyes. Fear shot at his heart like lightning and he was ready to bolt but the moment she locked her haunting verdant eyes on him, he stood frozen on his spot. She walked up to him and he drank in the sight of her in a flimsy, transparent nightgown that barely covered her pussy underneath. Instantly, heat travelled all the way down to his groin.

The pinkette reached for him and shamelessly ran her hands up and down his chiseled chest.

"My lord, my lord," she began. Her voice like a melody of a siren's song, "you have returned. You have returned to me."

"Who are you?" he asked with his hand over hers. The other caressed the smooth expanse of her arm.

She stepped back and revealed her bare form to him underneath. All peach skin glowing under the moonlight and he lets her take off his towel from his waist to reveal the already weeping cock underneath.

He held her close as she whispered into his ear, "Worship me, Itachi."

"Sakura…"

Yet when man reaped her fruits with greedy hands,

Her mother became furious,

And her soul tainted black.

So man has cursed himself from his own rake.

She who once granted life from glowing green palms,

Shall now take what was forcefully stolen.

As long as the terror continue to reign in her broken heart,

So long will man relinquish all that he owned for her alone.

For the many riches and prayers they offer,

The more her power shall grow stronger.

The End.

I got this idea after watching American Gods and Oculus. Ironically, I'm scared of dolls. I actually find them creepy especially those porcelain ones that try too hard to look real. *Shudders*

Anyway, tell me what you think of this one shot! This is the first time I've ever done something different from my usual fanfic genres. And, yeah I killed off Sakura's pairings. Anyway, thank you for the support for those who are familiar with my fanfics: "Sakura Tree" and "Bloody Sugar", hopefully I'll be updating soon. You all know my condition and I thank you for your understanding and patience.

But for now, stay awesome!

Ciao!