Novel & Cerita Itachi Uchiha Shirtless

Pride had always been his greatest weakness. Waiting for us on the tarmac were Fukui and Nitta. The brothers couldn’t have looked more different. Fukui was immaculate—navy blue trousers, a crisp white sleeveless shirt, polished shoes, and a watch that gleamed under the sun. Nitta, on the other hand, looked like he had rolled out of bed five minutes ago. His black sweatpants and scuffed sneakers paired with a gray hoodie did little to hide his unkempt hair.

I asked with a scoff. "I'll do it," he replied, his breathing picked up. He took off his shirt. He got on his feet and took off his trousers. I stare at him. As soon as he was completely naked, I couldn't help but stare at him. He covers his body from my view. His hair covers his whole face like a Japanese BL actor. Cute. "You look good this way," I said. "Won't you help me get undressed?" I asked. He looks up at me.

he replied with a smile. At that moment, I noticed he was in running shorts, his shirt appeared ripped as if he had fallen, and he wasn't wearing any shoes. I glanced up at him and furrowed my brows in confusion. I was just about to say something when Ikaris spoke. "I run better without shoes," he chuckled. "And your shirt? Did you fall?" I asked, pointing at him. Ikaris looked down and then back at me before reaching for the shirt's hem and pulling it off, revealing his muscular chest. He smiled at me, a smirk on his lips. I could feel my cheeks flush as I looked away.

The butler nodded and said, “Yes, Mr. Wade!” Charlie also pointed at the shorts and short-sleeved shirt that he had prepared on the hanger and spoke up again, “These are the prepared clothes. After everything is done, Mr. Ito will change into these clothes and go out.” Yahiko glanced at the clothes and found that the clothes that Charlie had prepared turned out to be sportswear that consisted of a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. He was a little surprised and also depressed at the same time.

He’d call me…gorgeous. “I want to put it on,” I murmured, my eyes finding his. “The condom. I want to put it on…for you,” Mr Stark stops breathing for a second before he nodded. He was quick to undo his belt, sliding the pants down. He took off the now buttonless shirt. I let out a shaky breath, watching his cock resting against his stomach. Fuck, I don’t think I can stop the shock every time I see him naked. He’s glorious, with all the tattoos. His upper body had more tattoos with only the left side of the leg tattooed up.

"Do you have a thing for moping? Cause you've been doing it a lot lately." ‘Lately he says! We haven’t seen each other in days. The audacity!’ I thought, yet said nothing. I blinked. Twice. And then again. Was it hot in here? Or was it just… Well. Every single man in the room was shirtless and glistening in sweat. Except Ronan. He looked exactly as he always did — calculated, composed, not a single bead of sweat trailing down his temple, or anywhere for that matter. It was then I realised unlike everyone else, he was the only one not in training gi. He was in his suit pants. Which told me he might have returned not too long ago.

I was just waiting for him to notice me, but it was like he didn't care, or he wasn't bothered, but I need this thing to work out tonight, and I need it to work quickly. Thane went straight to his bed, and laid on it. He was looking around still, and his eyes wandered to me. “Why are you looking at me?” Thane asked, and I responded by doing just one thing. I removed my shirt. I could see his eyes widen, and his brows furrowed into a frown, staring at my bare chest with no boobs on it. I was wearing a fake abs compression shirt, but it blended perfectly with my skin, that if you weren't looking too close, you wouldn't notice. It made my stomach look flat without abs, and that made it even mor

I’m trying not to panic—but I’m also definitely panicking. And then... He appears. Him. Like he stepped out of a fever dream designed to ruin my standards forever. He’s shirtless. Of course he’s shirtless. Because why wouldn’t a kidnapping kingpin be built like sin and carved like sculpture? His skin is pale gold, marred only by a scar that curves like a question mark across his ribs. His black pants hang low on his hips. His hair is dark, slicked back from sharp cheekbones. His eyes—

I’m not kidding. Then I zoomed in on another picture and paused. His shirt looked… wrong? Like, off. I looked up and— My brain short-circuited. He was shirtless. Standing there in front of everyone, abs glistening like they’d been painted on, tattoos crawling across his chest and arm — a massive bird spreading its wings like it could fly off his skin. I forgot to breathe. And then people started screaming. Phones came up, girls pushed forward, and I was right there with them.

Aleksander sent a photo. God. I knew I shouldn’t click it. My brain screamed don’t, but my thumb didn’t listen. The screen flashed to life—and just like that, my entire nervous system short-circuited. He was shirtless. Not the casual I just woke up kind of shirtless, no—this was calculated. The kind of picture men send when they know exactly what they’re doing. His body was all lean muscle and golden tone, the kind that made you forget how to breathe. His shoulders were broad, tapering down to a sculpted chest dusted with just enough hair to look maddeningly real. A chain rested against his collarbone, glinting under the soft light. His hair was tousled, damp like he’d just stepped out of th