A Night For Hunting Ch.2- No Way Out

Off-Label Sharingan Emotional Smut

Madara is a visual man, as I've said before. Often, he believes he sees the world too clearly and finds it an ugly place, but when it comes to you, his eyes are truly a blessing.

Scenario of what it's like for Madara and his fem!S/O to make love when his Sharingan is active, inspired by my Madara Sharingan HC

Warnings: NSFW, emotional porn, "inappropriate" use of Sharingan, creampie, facial Words: 689

You peered through your desirous haze at the crimson irises staring intently back at you. You thought by now, you should have been used to Madara's prolonged looks that meticulously captured every detail about you. It was like he saw through you. You shuddered with arousal as you were read and memorized like a favourite novel.

He shoved hard again and held himself there, his tip pushing against the back corner of your pussy, kissed by your walls and cervix.

Your eyes squeezed shut before rolling back. He could make out the muscles around your lips that pulled them into a thin line forming a pout. He predicted you were going to wrinkle your nose, furrow your eyebrows, and gasp next. You did. Gods, you were beautiful. He pulled back and hilted himself with force once more, needing to see you make that face again. And indulge him you did.

Madara groaned, his vision so acute he could see the nearly imperceptible glistening of sweat over your forehead, capture the quick pulse at your jugular and your twitching fingers with clarity. You reached for his face like he knew you were going to, so he dipped his head to meet you halfway, nuzzling his cheek into your begging palm. He knew every swirl of the fingerprints he loved, the patterns of your hands imprinted in his mind's eye.

His sight captured every faint line gracing your features, ones no one else would see, each line that surrounded your lips, nose, and eyes reminding him of your radiant smiles directed solely at him. The finest hairs on your skin that didn't register against his touch stood out to his eyes. Each tiny freckle scattered across your cheeks was visible, down to the variable shades of colour within the same spot, and the lustrous sheen of your hair was so glossy it looked like silk.

You were a feast for his eyes in every way. He would never understand when you fretted over one feature or another. You were even sillier when you attempted to conceal yourself from him because "he saw too clearly."

You did not possess his visual prowess, for you were not an Uchiha, though he should make you one. Still, you wouldn't understand the perfection that was your corporeal form. Never see what he sees. His heart warmed when you kept holding his gaze, your body open to him in complete trust and surrender. He knew from the tensing of your legs and the miniscule flickering of groin muscles what you were going to do next. He was close too.

You were still staring into his Sharingan, creating your own memories about those fiery glowing orbs, those doting eyes, when the pattern shifted. Commas bled into each other and spokes appeared in triplet. He caressed your bud in circles the way he saw you do once before, when he made you touch yourself for him. Your release hit as you felt Madara's cock vibrating, then liquid heat seeping from your connection. The pattern was spinning.

You came again, your folds embracing him as Madara emptied himself once more in your addictive pussy where he belonged.

You came again, quivering walls convulsing around his dick erratically. He rumbled deeply, the feral craving to claim you again possessing his animal brain. He pulled out against your whines of disapproval, ribbons of semen spraying from his shaft and falling to your chest and abdomen. As soon as you realized what he intended, your stunning face hungered for more. He could visualize the moisture that surrounded each taste bud as you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue for him, the pink flesh inviting him for more. Mine.

You came again. Oh? This time your hands clutched his hard biceps, your squealing sounding to the heavens as you bared your throat to Madara, grinding your hips on his to take him deeper. Madara held onto his orgasm for you until yours was completed. He withdrew, coming to a crouch over your chest as he aimed higher. Warm cum splashed until he had your pretty face covered, marked as his. MINE.

i don't need to explain myself you all know what i'm talkin about

This is completely true. This is why I joined Tumblr haha. I'm glad I found your blog

Why Madara fandom is superior to all

(you can't even fight me because it's as factual as a meteor falling from the sky) :

They write the most depressing meta analysis you've ever read about how life sucks.

Then, they write the most thirsty post about a hundred years old senior. Like who does that?

They dissect all Konoha's bullshits and they are so articulate. They never fall for the emotional traps, in particular those coming from the woodman and his minions. Our fav warn us it's a scam since the first Valley of the End, more than sixty years ago. We watch Boruto like : Why are you all crying for the plot and Sasuke's hair? He told you so... 🤷‍♀️

No childish ship battles because he's canonically single. He belongs to the street to us all. A generous endless clone-maker King!

They have a better sense of humour, meaning they don't take criticizes personally because their fav is a villain. He's allowed to any human rights infringements he wants. Actually, we're actively looking for a way to help him improving his massive destruction scale.

They understand sarcasm, second degree, dark jokes. A rare quality in the Naruto fandom.

They have to be smart just in order to follow the big boss machivellian plan. Like grandpa speaks in old riddles and metaphors... We gotta open wikipedia from time to time 🧐

An Oxford study said that belonging to his fandom makes laughs more, makes your hair grows brighter and thicker, enhance your skin's glow, make you live longer and smarter, makes you chose better partner.

Yeah they are all petty pretty, the ugly ones just die of exhaustion watching him.

OK we have a weakness... we don't like aliens... That alien is taboo, ok? We don't know her. Actually Naruto to our knowledge ends here :

Holy shit!!

Sacrificed

Pairing: God!Madara Uchiha x Reader

Genre: Oneshot, filthy filthy smut

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: too many to count, afab!reader, rough sex, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, the Uchiha breeding kink, creampie, unprotected sex, aphrodisiacs, Madara has a big dick Uchiha, blindfolds, hands are tied, stomach bulge, mating press, overstimulation, some temperature play, strong language

A/N: This monstrosity has way too many tags, forgive me if I didn't tag every kink. Honestly this was only supposed to have like, two kinks or so, but uh obviously that did not happen and I'm not sorry about it. If this one does well enough I plan on writing a Sacrificed for each of the founders trio, and if I feel the inspiration after that I could add other Naruto characters as well so, let me know if that's something you'd be interested in.

A HUGE thank you to @therantingfangirl for helping me edit this oversized self indulgence! She's the best you guys, I love her and you should send some love her way! This wouldn't have been out as quickly, and would've had many more typos lol, if not for her. So tell her thank you for me~

edit 7/30/22: WE NOW HAVE ART!! A biiiig huge thank you to the amazing @skydaddy01 for their incredible art. They did a fanfuckingtastic job creating god!Madara's appearance, especially with so little to go off of because I'm bad at asking for things. Seriously, go check them out, especially if you like the art~

Without further ado, enjoy Sacrificed (Sun)

Read it on AO3

Villagers scattered about, decorating homes and streets alike, preparing drums and costumes with jovial attitudes; the excitement was palpable. Most everyone looked forward to the Festival of the Sun, it was hard not to! The music, the ritual dancing, the offerings of food and wine to the gods as well as loved ones were certainly something to be excited about. The festivities themselves lasted for an entire week. It had to in order to entice him down from his place of rest. He was hard to excite, after all.

The Festival of the Sun is performed once a year before the cold season begins in order to plead with the sun god for protection from death during the upcoming frost. At the peak of the festivities, a living sacrifice is offered to the deity, but seldom does he come down. Most sacrifices come back without having even felt his presence, however throughout the history of the festival there were rare instances of his sacrifice being found dead at the end of the celebrations. The manner of death was always the same, burnt from the inside out. These instances came to be synonymous with having met him.

That fact made you, the sacrifice chosen for the upcoming celebrations, a bit nauseated. The idea of meeting the sun god made you nervous for many reasons; you were his devout follower, a young peasant chosen by the temple due to your dedication to your faith. At least, that’s what they told you when they notified you of your impending position. Your faith was well known in the village, you made the hike to his temple every two days without fail and prayed for hours in his sanctuary as well as volunteered to help clean the entirety of his temple.

His statues had always entranced you and you often wondered if that was what he really looked like. Was he really that tall and broad? Certainly awe inspiring if true. You’d run the soapy cloth along the carvings of his hair and close your eyes, guiltily pretending you were running your fingers through his majestic locks, it was so long, and the artist made it look so wild and untamed, giving his likeness a dangerous edge that made you bite your bottom lip. It would not be an exaggeration to say you were attracted to your god, or rather to the idea of him.

You had never met him or even heard his words as some priests had claimed to have heard. The high priest, the one who informed you of your role in the festivities, had said that your devotion moved the god and he had asked for you; that made you roll your eyes. As if the sun god himself would ask for you. The odd one, no family or friends, let alone a dating history, or anything of the sort that would catch the attention of anyone let alone such a powerful and incredible god. No matter, it would just mean another year without his appearance, though there is the possibility he’s so enraged by your presentation that he decides to burn you like the others.

He was not known for his mercy, after all. His lust for blood was legendary and his rivalry with the god of the forests still affects humanity despite their typically dormant state. Their battles have scored the earth and ruined oceans, much to the god of the sea’s displeasure. The temple texts state that the gods of forest and sun reawaken every century to continue their discourse. Were the previously killed sacrifices burned for his amusement or was he displeased with their appearance? Being burnt from the inside out at the hands of your beloved deity, was that your destined end?

As you contemplated your possible demise, the festival began. For the first three days your job was to stay in the temple. You were to pray all day, bathe in the ceremonial waters, and eat only the fruits provided. Each day the ceremonial drumming, which was performed as the sun began to set and would continue until sunrise, could be heard despite the temples stone walls. Their beat entrancing and familiar. It gave you something to look forward to as you prayed without response.

On the fourth day you weren’t allowed to eat anything, only drink a strangely viscus and milky liquid with no taste that left the core of your being feeling cold. The usual warm bath with citrus scents was replaced with the same cold and thick liquid you were forced to drink. Are they trying to give me a cold before they send me to my death? You thought as you shivered. The older priestesses were made to wash you, they rubbed the fluid into every part of your being. Maybe I’ll freeze before I’m burnt alive.

It was almost like a massage, the way the older women prepared you. The way they rubbed the fluid into the flesh of your breasts made you blush, and the blush only deepened when your sex was given the same amount of attention and pressure. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut. The feeling was a bit unusual. Heat began to swirl in your center, and it helped you fight off the cold for the rest of the bath.

When you were brought out of the bath rolls of white and red silk were draped around your body in odd patterns. The material itself felt wonderful but they tied the red pieces around your arms and neck, while the white silk they used to bind your chest and cover your mound. It was an odd feeling, only being partially dressed and your abdomen being bare made you flush in embarrassment. They tied your hair back in a braid that was as long as your hair would allow, and they twisted the same type of red silk around it. You were not allowed to look at your own appearance and one of the women led you out of the temple without so much as a word.

Once outside you began to shiver again and your bare feet gracing the soft grass only made you feel colder. The breeze made goose flesh begin to rise along your skin and you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and keep warm. Sounds of the villagers enjoying the festival gave you something to focus on. What would you be doing, if you were not here? Enjoying some wine perhaps, dancing around the oversized fire that was lit in your god’s honor? Mmm maybe even enjoying a full plate of roast boar, your stomach grumbled at the thought.

A group of priests, including the high priest, emerged from the temple and began to lead you further to the west of the temple. On that side there was a trail. Most everyone knew of the trail, but it was not to be used by anyone but the blessed. It led up to the highest peak in the valley and at the top stood a temple made specifically to hold the sun god’s presence when he graced the earth.

The high priest ushered you onto the trail and began to walk in front of you, the others following behind. The entire hike up felt very stiff and uncomfortable, it made you more nervous than you already were. The high priest stopped, as did you, right before the doors to the sacred temple. It was much grander, the walls made of marble instead of stone with gold gilded doors and carvings of suns in the luxurious columns. A strong wind practically blew through you, and you wondered if you’d ever feel warm again. A quick glance around at the people meant to guide you made your stomach twist in knots. They all had such grave expressions. You wondered what was next and began to try to convey your question with your eyes but they refused look at you. “Um,” you began. “Excuse-“

A loud shout rang out from the village, the signal to start the drums. Startled, you glanced at the sky and saw that the sun had begun to set. The high priest turned and walked until he was right in front of you. He began to press a large flask of what looked to be the same viscous liquid into your hands while a different priest came behind you and began to tie a red ribbon made of the same silk tightly around your eyes. The cool material caused your heart to beat as hard as the drums. “Drink this once the sun has fully set, there will be more inside, be sure to drink all of it throughout the next few days.”

Your breathing picked up. Someone, you weren’t sure who, began to tie your wrists together in front of you. “Do not attempt to look at him,” the high priest spoke again. “Do not try to touch him, only he can initiate contact. You may roam around the temple but do not leave it.” How did he expect you to roam without being able to see? “We will be back at the end of the festival to collect you, do as we say and as he says and you will survive,” he paused, “probably.”

You nodded nervously; you couldn’t see his face but could feel the sense of dread in the air. “Alright, let us begin.” Someone began to push you forward and you felt your bare feet touch the chilled marble, heard the large doors creak open, and felt the plush of a cushion as they sat you down on the floor. Once their touch left you, the sense of foreboding increased. When you heard the door slam shut you knew you were alone.

You could hear the high priest begin a prayer outside the door, though it was rather muffled, you pressed your fingers against each other, and you tried to calm your nerves by joining in on the prayer. “Allow your warmth to protect and guide me,” you muttered. After a moment’s hesitation you added, “and your cruelty to pass over me.” And altogether you ended the prayer with an ‘amen’ though yours felt a tad more strained.

Through the blindfold you could make out vague shapes thanks to the small amounts of light; but that was all you could see, and once the sun set you would essentially be blind. You stayed seated for a time and fiddled with the flask that you had been given. The wrappings around your wrists weren’t painful or too constricting but they did limit what you could do. How were you supposed to stay like this for four nights and three days? “Where even is the restroom?” You glanced around at the shapes that made up what you could see. “Do gods even use the restroom?”

After a few more minutes of fretting and shaking you decided to stand and try to figure out what was in the room. You placed your arms out in front of you. Your hands may have been bound but you were still able to grab a hold of things. The temperature of the temple was colder than the temperature outside, it was similar to the biting chill of the nights in the cold season. At this point you wondered if you were doomed to die from frostbite. The tips of your fingers scraped against the cold marble of the walls, and you continued to glide your hands along the carvings to guide you through the area. As your vision began to worsen you knew the sun was almost under the mountain.

Your fingers brushed against a metal decoration and you began to explore the piece to the best of your abilities. It felt like a throne, a large one, with a cushion made of the same type of silk that was draped around you. The size of the throne made it feel a bit more like a small loveseat, you couldn’t imagine it being too comfortable with all the surrounding metals. Beside the throne seemed to be a short table with a pitcher atop it. The pitcher was carved, and you could tell it was well crafted by running your fingers along the object. It felt much too light to be filled with anything, much to your chagrin. You had been hoping for a sip of real water.

While there was still a bit of sunlight left you decided to try to explore the center of the room a bit more. You walked cautiously from the throne to the middle of the area and saw a shadow that seemed to be a table or something similar. It was a bit tall to be a table and you placed your hands on it and felt that it was also made of a cold marble. There were no chairs around it and as your fingers brushed along the edges you felt that there were words engraved on it. You wondered if they were gilded with gold like the carvings on the outer columns had been. Slowly, you attempted to read what was engraved around the table. “A sacrifice of flesh and blood,” you muttered. “Well, that would be me.”

“Is that right?”

You flinched. That was not a voice you recognized. It was deep and alluring, with an inflection that sounded almost amused. The man’s voice had come from behind you, where you remembered the throne being. Cautiously, you turned toward where you thought the voice was coming from but immediately had to squeeze your eyes shut. All there was in that direction was a bright light, like the sun itself had come to rest in front of you. Wait, your breath caught in your throat. The sun itself?

“A-Are you perhaps-“

“Yes?”

You felt so hesitant. Your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest, the urge to drop down on your knees and bow was at the forefront of your mind. There was a warmth, an intense but welcome warmth, that began to move toward you. Your eyes were still closed tight; even behind the blindfold his brightness was too much. Like a warm breath it felt like his presence was closer, but you weren’t sure how close. Without much more thought, you gave into your urge and got down to your hands and knees with your head resting atop your extended arms on the floor. Even the floor felt warmer now than it had before his arrival. “My lord!”

“Hm, not quite as interesting as I was expecting.” He sounded so close, almost as if he was directly above you. “But not altogether unpleasant.”

Your skin began to tingle from the contrast in temperature. Hot and cold. Internally, you still felt like you were freezing but externally his presence had warmed everything to such a degree it felt like you might melt. Lightly, it felt like just the tips of his fingers, began to trial down your exposed spine, like he was counting vertebrae. Again, your bottom lip felt the sting of your teeth as your mind reeled at not only meeting but being touched by your god. The same god whose likeness you had thought of in some not so holy ways.

“Is it still too bright?”

“P-Pardon?”

“I understand that my presence tends to be overwhelming for human eyes, shall I dim myself?” He answered his own question, as the harsh biting against your eyelids seemed to lessen and instead of a sun his presence looked more like a group of brightly lit candles. It hurt still, but you were finally able to open your eyes. You wanted to look at him, wanted to take the blindfold off and gaze upon his glory but you kept your head down, afraid of the consequences of doing so. “Thank you for your consideration, my lord.”

“Still so polite,” his dry chuckle was like velvet in your ears. You shivered, but not from fear or temperature; you wanted to hear him speak more. The pleasing thought of having him order you around floated about in your mind. Warm, overly warm, fingers gripped your chin roughly and had you look up at the veiled view of his face. “I like how you’ve thought about me a lot better than the way you’re speaking to me now.”

Your heart hiccupped. Your thoughts of him!? You could feel the color drain from your face. All the unsavory thoughts you had about his image filtered through your mind at once. The few times you had touched yourself had also been to ideas of him. Would he kill you now for your blasphemous behavior? Was he aware of all of them? That rich chuckle continued to fill your ears, much more amused this time, and he turned your head from side to side as if in assessment of a product at the market. “Don’t be so nervous, child. You act like I’m going to burn you alive.”

You were pretty sure he might.

There were no details, but from his outline it seemed like the statue was rather accurate. His hair was long, spiked, and wild like the mane of a lion; his shoulders broad and perfectly set. He barely had a hold on your chin but the bits of his fingers you could feel felt strong, large, and overly warm. The high priest had told you not to look at him but maybe? Just a peek? “Can I remove the-“

“Do you want to go blind?”

“What?”

“Do you think you can stare directly at the sun without repercussions? You’ll go blind if you look at me with your naked eye.”

“Oh,” you pressed your lips together, your cheeks red with embarrassment. “Right, yes, that makes sense.”

“Eager to see your god, are we?”

You wanted to nod but refrained and he let go of your chin. “You haven’t finished the elixir yet.” He said it as a statement of fact and let out a sigh that sounded exasperated. The blood in your veins rushed at a dizzying pace and you felt panic begin to rise in your throat. Had you displeased him? Would he leave because of it? Anything but that.

“I hadn’t realized the time, please forgive-“ Wet warm lips pressed against yours midsentence. It was intense and hot, so very hot. One of his large hands grabbed the back of your head roughly, forcing you to tilt your head back and he tugged on the braid. The surprise made you flinch, and your mouth opened slightly, but it was enough for him. He began to force a liquid into your mouth from his. It was different from the others; it had a sweet taste to it that sat heavy in your center. The warmth of his lips felt like it might burn, but the cool of the liquid soothed it almost immediately. The contrast made you moan, and his tongue began to enter your mouth.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you began to feel turned on as his tongue caressed and pulled at your own. Were you allowed to kiss back? How was this supposed to work? Another noise escaped you as his tongue scraped against the roof of your mouth, slowly and with intent. You squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to calm down. He pulled away slowly, allowing his tongue to linger against yours in the space between you. The sun god chuckled once again, “That face is rather enticing.”

If only you could see what face it was. His touch left you and the warmth of his being began to dissipate. “Resting for so long can be quite boring,” he began, his voice sounded like it was back at the throne. When you opened your eyes you could see the light of his being further back, it seemed as if he was sitting on the golden décor. It almost looked like he was slouched, with one hand against the arm rest and his head on his fist, but that was just your assumption. You had no way of seeing the details of his form. “So, while we wait for the elixir to kick in, entertain me.”

Entertain? How? Should you ask? What if that angered him? He didn’t seem like the patient sort. You heard a sound similar to liquid filling a basin and saw him shift as it looked like he may be drinking. Your heart pounded in your ears in time with the beat of the drums that boom from below. Oh, was that it? At this point in the evening, for the festival, everyone would be dancing. Is that what he wanted? The dance was created for his worship, after all.

You stood on nervous legs, your hands still bound, and listened patiently to the beat. When you felt you had a good enough idea of the rhythm you began the dance. It was fast, continuously moving, with moves similar to dodging attacks in a spar. When the drum paused you twisted your spine and bent backward, almost hitting the sacrificial table behind you, and stretch your arms up behind your head to touch the cool marble. The stretch made you feel exposed. Your neck, abdomen, and legs were on full display. As the pause remained, so did your position. It was difficult, but the dance seemed to warm you up. You felt the flush travel across your body, and you began to feel rather thirsty. You resumed at the same time as the drums.

Everything seemed to disappear as the song continued. Your muscles began to loosen, your tension nonexistent, you completely forgot where you were or why you were even dancing in the first place. It was like you were hypnotized to follow the music. One foot out in front and the other behind, your hands pushed out in front almost like you were begging. Everything felt warm now, your breathing was labored from exertion. Much to your embarrassment, even your core felt a bit sticky. Your hair began to frame your face and you barely registered that the braid had come loose. “Keep dancing,” came his silken command. So, you did.

His approach was harder to feel this time, the difference in temperature not quite as stark, but when his hand caressed the side of your neck you gasped at the excess heat. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

Right, more dancing.

One of his hands remained at your neck, curling around it like a collar and restricting your movements. You couldn’t move away from him without feeling choked. His other hand slid down the length of your swaying curves, from the tops of your covered breasts to the dip of your hips where the white ribbon was tied. The heat was almost sweltering and the ache in your sex began to grow. He tugged and the silk around your waist began to slip away, creating static as it fell from your flesh.

You couldn’t help but stop, your senses now fully focused on your naked lower half. Without the cloth your arousal was even more obvious, its evidence sticking to your thighs. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” he growled so close to your ear. A shiver wracked your form, and you did your best to start moving again, but his hand inching toward your center made you lose your rhythm and your movements became awkward. His hot tongue began to lick a stripe along the red silk wrapped around your collar bone. His warm fingers began to stroke the plush flesh of your mound. A fresh wave of slick began to coat your labia.

“Mm,” you pressed your lips together. You felt like you were on fire. “My lord, please,” you whispered, not entirely sure what you were asking for.

“Tsk, you know my name. Say it.”

He was giving you permission to call him by name? His fingers trailed down and began to stroke the naked flesh of your sex. The amount of wetness made the sounds of his fingers vulgar as he moved them back and forth against the sensitive skin. Your head fell back, and you gasped, his warm fingers immediately zeroing in on your clit. The heat was overwhelming, adding extra stimulation to your already pulsing bud. Your core began to clench, and your hips reflexively bucked toward his hand. “Go on,” he chided. “Say the name of your god, tell him how badly you want him to finger you.”

Your vagina pulsed at the thought. Saying his real name was taboo in the temple, but he was giving you permission. It was impossible to think, his fingers sped up their assault. Only incoherent noises left your throat as your knees began to buckle. How were you this close already? The hand that was around your neck squeezed teasingly, cutting off your air flow temporarily, before moving down to support your lower back as your legs threatened to give out. Instinctively you reached out and tried to use his arm for support before immediately pulling your hands back. They burned, like you had touched a hot stove.

“Do not try to touch him, only he can initiate contact.” The high priest’s words rang out in your mind.

“Weren’t you warned pet?” His head leaned down to your burnt hands, his fingers not ceasing, and he licked along your palms as if to soothe them. The mixture of pain and pleasure only brought you closer to the edge and you began to buck your hips in earnest. Your pleasured noises began to grow into full moans as you approached your peak.

Quickly, without warning, he removed his fingers from your clit and unceremoniously thrust two inside of your entrance. It burned, the heat and the pain of the stretch, but it brought you over the edge anyway. He hadn’t even had to move his fingers and you were already clenching down on them. Tears welled in your eyes behind the blindfold, and you called out, “Ahh, Madara!”

“How cute,” he announced, his voice a note or two deeper, the arm that was supporting you was trembling. “So eager that you came just from having my fingers inside you?”

Madara began to move his fingers, slow and deliberate, making sure to scrape them against your walls and ensuring that pain accompanied the pleasure. He moved his mouth to your neck and tugged at the red ribbon, untying it with his teeth and exposing the rest of your body to his gaze. He began to scissor your entrance and you felt the tightness in your gut return. “Such a naughty human, touching yourself to the thought of your god. Did you think I wasn’t watching? Did you think I wouldn’t know?”

You felt like you were burning, and you heard the juices of your arousal splash against your skin. His thick fingers began to thrust quickly, and he brought his palm up to rub at your sensitive clit. A whine left your throat. He continued his verbal assault. “I watched you each and every time you called out to me with lust. I saw the way your greedy pussy swallowed one, then two, even three of your own fingers. But it was never enough, was it? You needed something else, needed these fingers to fill you.” He added a third finger and you had never felt so full. A cry of his name left your lips again and that rich chuckle of his vibrated through you. “Well how is it? Now that you have the real thing, is it satisfactory? Are you still feeling greedy?”

“It’s good,” you slurred in a drawn-out moan. His fingers began to push at your walls in opposing directions and you thought you might drool. “So so good.”

“Only good? Well, I guess I’ll have to try harder then.”

All three fingers curled at once and began to press on a specific part of your walls. Your breathing stopped, your body convulsed, your toes curled, and your vagina clenched like your life depended on it. His palm pressed hard against your abused bundle of nerves, and you came yet again. But this one was different, more intense, almost painful as it washed over every part of your being. You felt dizzy before you remembered to breathe. His hand kept moving but you were at your wits end. “Too much, ah,” you wanted to grab a hold of his arm but barely registered you would get burned again if you did. Your sex throbbed painfully. “Please lord Madara,” you pleaded. “It’s too much.”

The sun god removed his fingers slowly but made sure to keep supporting you. You watched as the vague light of his being seemed to lick a trail from his own palm down his arm and he moaned deeply as he followed the trail back up to his palm. He moved his hand away from his own mouth and brought his fingers to your lips. “Suck,” he commanded.

Your tongue poked out of your mouth shyly and you wrapped it around the three fingers hesitantly. A grunt left your throat as you tasted yourself on his digits. He shoved the three of them into your mouth, not willing to give you the chance to continue to do as you pleased. Obediently, you sucked. The heat from his fingers almost felt like they would burn your mouth too. Again, you wondered what he looked like in full detail. You gently scraped your teeth against the three digits. “Good pet,” he muttered and pressed the pads of his fingers down on your tongue. “Now, lay down on that table. I’m going to take my sacrifice.”

Madara removed his fingers and let go of you entirely. You stumbled, almost fell to your knees again as your support disappeared. Thanks to the light of his being you were able to see the shadows that made up the cold marble of said sacrificial table. As much as you tried to make your crawl a top it look sexy, you fumbled a few times. It was rather high, making it difficult to crawl onto, but your inability to be graceful didn’t seem to deter him as he was atop you the moment you fully laid down.

The sun god’s scorching lips graced yours once more and this time you tried to meet his tongue stroke for stroke. His impossibly warm palms enveloped your breasts and began to mold them to his liking, almost as if he was trying to change their shape to his hands. For the first time you felt his entire body as it pressed against you. His muscles were firm as they met your squishy flesh and the hardness of his arousal rubbed against your belly in interest. It leaked with precum and the thought of that being your doing gave you butterflies. Slowly he pulled away, he seemed to sit up for a second as you heard the sounds of a glass bottle opening. His own breathing sounded labored, but it paused as he began to gulp down whatever he had opened.

When he was seemingly satisfied, he pressed his lips to yours again, and much like the first kiss, forced the liquid down your throat. Some of it dribbled down the side of your mouth, being too much to swallow all at once, but it didn’t seem to bother him as he continued to aggressively explore your mouth. What surprised you was when he began to pour out the chilled liquid onto your overheated sex. Your back arched, the contrast in temperatures a shock to your system.

He threw the glass bottle away and it broke against the flooring with a loud crash. His thick fingers began to coat themselves in the fluid and started to scoop it into you. You groaned into his mouth. Madara kept pushing it in, forcing it as deep inside of you as his fingers would allow. It felt odd, his hands and your body heat slowly warmed the liquid as he pushed it inside. The god pulled away from the kiss with a loud breath. “No more games,” he announced and pulled his fingers away.

The sound of his slick fingers against his own flesh made you shiver. You wished you could see it, him fisting himself atop you. What a gorgeous sight that would be, it was almost worth the risk of going blind. Almost. He lined himself up with your entrance, one hand holding your tied wrists above your head and the other holding him in place. His tip felt large as it twitched impatiently against your hole. Anticipation made you hold your breath.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

He thrust in and your jaw dropped. Big, he was so big. You felt overstuffed, like there were six of his large fingers shoved inside. Madara pushed forward more, your walls spasming around the intrusion. He was too big; it was too much. You felt like you were going to break, like he’d split you in half. More of his shaft entered you and he groaned, his guiding hand now reaching up to grip your hip and push you further onto him. It felt like he had knocked the wind out of you as the tip of his penis hit your cervix. Surely that was it, he couldn’t go any further. “Pretty little thing, so fucked out already and I’ve barely even started,” he chuckled, his words strained. He brought the hand that was holding your wrists down to wipe your chin of drool that you hadn’t even realized was there. “You’re so wet,” he grunted and pulled his hips back before snapping them forward quickly. You grunted, the drag of his dick the best thing you had ever felt. “Behave and I might just reward you.”

He began to thrust in earnest, the mushroom head hitting against your cervix with each thrust in, like it was trying to bury itself deeper inside of you. Your back bowed and he forced your hips to meet his. You brought your hands up and began to grip at the edge of the marble table. Your white-knuckled grip the only thing keeping you grounded. He brought his unoccupied hand down to your left breast and began to thumb the nipple in time with his thrusts. The shlick shlick shlick sound of each drag against your insides made your toes curl once again. You felt the heavy weight of his balls hit against your perineum and the slick that was pushed out with every thrust leaked down onto the stone beneath.

The sun god was more vocal than you had expected, grunting with effort, and groaning when you clenched particularly hard around him. You licked your lips, your mouth felt dry from hanging open for so long. Your guts began to twist in knots again and you knew you would cum soon. In a rush of bravery, you brought your legs up and attempted to wrap them around his waist. Immediately, your flesh began to burn, and you set them back down. “What did I tell you?” He sounded strained and he moved his second hand to your other hip. “Behave.”

“I can’t-“ you cut yourself off with a moan, his shaft scraping just right against your g-spot and causing your climax to begin again. He hissed and you felt his hair tickle your stomach as he leaned forward and his grip on your hips tightened. You hoped he’d leave bruises.

“Fuck,” he sounded depraved, and you bit your bottom lip hard. His hips continued to push into you. “Your walls are trying so hard to milk me, is that what you want? Hm? You want me to breed you?”

“Uhn,” you couldn’t help but nod vigorously. Your mind so warped with pleasure that you’d do anything he asked. “Oh, Madara,” you groaned and bucked your hips against his grip.

“You want to carry my bastard,” his voice thick with arousal. His large hands pulled you further down on the table and he put both of your legs up around his shoulders. “Everyone will know it’s mine. They’ll all see your rounded belly and know that it’s the seed of their god growing inside of you.”

The new angle was intense, he bore heavily down onto your cervix with every thrust. He pushed your legs forward, putting them up by your shoulders, almost folding you in half, and pushed into your womb. You screamed. It was too much, an intense mix of pain and pleasure that had your nerves confused. “Feel me reach the deepest parts of you,” he grunted. Madara grabbed your tied wrists and brought your hand down to your folded stomach. He made your hands press against your lower belly where you felt the outline of him inside of you. The extra pressure added more feeling and you whined. “I’m going to fill that pretty little womb of yours.”

His thrusts quickened, becoming bruising and focused. You kept your hand where he placed it and felt his bulge as it moved in and out of you. Your head moved back and through your lust filled haze you noticed that the edges of the blindfold had loosened. If you moved a bit more maybe it would come off? Madara moved one of his hands inward and began to stroke at your clit quickly. His pace becoming uneven as his breathing sped up. “You were fucking made for this,” he groaned out. “Made to take me, to be folded in half and fucked stupid.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cried out and moved your head to the side. The silk slipped off of your eyes and you kept them closed as you tried to ignore the need to look at him. He felt so good, so brutal. Your clit throbbed and your core clenched for the fourth time. This was it, the most intense orgasm you’d have possibly ever. You wanted to look at him, to gaze upon his glorious face as you came undone. “Madara, please,” you began, your voice keening at the end. “Look at me.”

You opened your eyes just in time to see him look into yours. He was gorgeous, his dark hair wild and strung about him in a halo of black, his naked flesh flushed pink with exertion, his eyes so dark they looked like they would swallow you whole. His muscles rippled as he fucked you open, the lines under his eyes crinkling as his lips tightened in a smirk. Madara whispered your name and gave one more strong thrust before you squeezed your eyes tight in ecstasy. “Such a bad girl,” he taunted.

This orgasm was unlike any other before, your entire being felt tingly and a different kind of pressure built in your sex. When that pressure released a large burst of clear liquid gushed from you and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Your legs shook, your walls trembled, and you barely heard Madara’s own grunt of release as he poured his molten semen into your womb. Your everything trembled and you felt like you might melt into the table below you. Your vision went from white to black and you felt your consciousness begin to fade.

“You may rest for now,” his voice sounded so distant in your mind. “We’ll resume shortly.”

When you woke next, you felt so disoriented. Your eyes were open, but everything was hazy, you felt like you were sitting on something hard but comfortable and you lifted your head to try and see where you were. “It took you long enough, pet,” came Madara’s silky voice from behind you. His chest pressed to your back and his arms pressed you further against him. “We still have three more nights of fun to get to.”

A/N: Again, this amazing art contribution was made by the one and only @skydaddy01 please go check them out and send them a huge thank you from me! Madara looks incredible, doesn't he? Uhg I can't stop looking at this art.

Part Two

Hashirama||Tobirama

Season 2

how do you reconcile with liking morally imprehensible content and problematic media?

i dont reconcile w anything bc i dont give a shit thanks for sending me this batshit ask tho

Happy New Year

I've never read Claymore or anything, but I think it does monster character design better than most manga, or even just, monster media in general, particularly the female monster designs.

not female, but a girlboss nonetheless

Predator (Yautja) by Michael Michera

Madara's Best Friend

If Madara and the others in this post lived under different circumstances, I think it makes more sense for Madara to be ‘best friends’ with either Tobirama or Gai. They are more compatible with Madara than Hashirama. Not considering Izuna as Madara’s best friend since that wouldn’t be fair. Izuna probably knew Madara better than Madara knew his own hand. No I don’t ship Mads with Hashirama, Tobirama, Izuna, or Gai, but seeing wholesome MadaGai comics made me think how this entire time, those artists had a point.

Hashirama

Others have discussed this extensively, but while Hashirama is the only one who can fight Madara as an equal, he wasn’t a good friend to Madara. Beyond the initial founding of Konoha, which stemmed from a genuine desire for peace and wanting a better future for young ones, Hashirama was selfish in his motivations for why he wanted Madara to stay in Konoha. It was always about the village for Hashi. There was never genuine reflection about Madara’s concerns or consideration for his well-being, even when Madara was basically screaming for help in his own way. Hashirama was also not even close to Madara on an intellectual level. Not that I think Hashirama was the total airhead he liked to present himself as. On the contrary, I think he was often quite manipulative when he pretended to be dumber than he is. But whereas Madara had the capacity to foresee far into the future the issues about shinobi villages due to their social structures, Hashirama was set on his ideals of what the village must be like and unwilling to stand up to defend his ‘friend’ Madara. And then he killed his best friend over his flawed beliefs once Madara no longer played by his rules.

I think Hashirama would only be suitable for being Madara’s true sparring partner/rival, even if Gai would exuberantly declare himself ‘rival’ anyways.

Tobirama

This only applies if Tobirama left Izuna alone.

Tobirama tried to make the village work. And to his credit, the village worked. It survived well into the future thanks to social structures and policies enacted by Tobirama. Tobirama was the one who propped up the village and ensured it ran smoothly after its founding, not so much Hashirama, even if Tobi’s ways eventually lent themselves to the dark underbelly of Konoha that Madara foresaw. The intentions were noble, even if his methods flawed.

If neither Tobi nor Hashi killed Izuna, Izuna would likely have survived until much later. If Madara was somehow convinced for a truce and to build a village anyways, Izuna at his side would be a much more level-headed negotiator than Madara and would ensure the treaty was fair to the other founding clan, the Uchiha, too. If the canon events had been even slightly different, I believe there was ample opportunity for the Uchiha to thrive as well. The entire story could have been so different.

Despite the abundant past misgivings between the Uchiha and Senju, I believe Madara and Tobirama could be friends who respect each other if Izuna lived and they were all working on Konoha together. They are much closer intellectually, quieter and more introspective, would be able to bounce more realistic ideas off each other, maybe invent new jutsu together. Tobirama was pragmatic and logical, which could be a better foil to Madara than Hashirama, who seemed to often drive Madara to extreme emotion.

Gai

This lovely cinnamon bun is among the purest characters in Naruto. There isn’t a single vile or dark thing about him. Even his teeth are shiny. He would be so good for Madara and his mental wellbeing, like he was for Kakashi. Gai tried to hang out with Kakashi when the Copy Cat was traumatized by multiple deaths so he wouldn’t be alone, protected Kakashi when he was distracted on a mission and almost got killed, and was just there when needed. Even when he was pushed away repeatedly, Gai never gave up on his friend.

If Madara had a real friend in Gai like Kakashi did, one who will be present and support his buddies through anything, who knows? I’m sure the grouchy hermit Madara would resist and try to push this overbearing green beast away too, but that wouldn’t stop Gai’s insistence. The ridiculousness to ensue would have been a balm for Madara’s tortured soul. Both men’s dedication to the future generations and physical training are also bonding points. With someone who still cared for him, maybe Madara wouldn’t have gone down the path he did so readily? Madara was at a point of total isolation without Izuna and the support of his clan, an untrusted outcast left with no one who still wanted his protection when he abandoned Konoha. At that point, he didn’t have anyone to look out for his back. He was also abandoned. It’s really tragic.

Have a picture of happy Madara. It’s uncommon.

I love your blog about madara 😭♥️, you could write about madara being a dad🧑‍🍼 i love imagining him being a dad😭🤰♥️

Thank you for the kind words! I love thinking about Madara as a dad too! He is so husband and dad-shaped. That’s why I waited so long to answer this ask, even though it’s one of my first ones! Because I love this ask and wanted to do it justice. I can only see Madara as a father in an AU where Konoha is actually democratic and fair towards the Uchiha. Since you didn’t specify what stage of life the child is in, I’m gonna write about how Madara might be throughout his child’s life. Warning: fluff ahead!

During pregnancy- Madara is going to be extremely protective and gentle with you. If you ever thought he was overboard before you were pregnant, he’s just extra now when you’re more vulnerable than ever. Even if he knows you’re a capable shinobi (or civilian), he won’t let any risk come to you and wants you to have the most relaxing pregnancy ever. He doesn’t even let you step on a chair to reach the higher cabinets! Sheesh. He’ll rub your swollen feet and take on more chores. When you worry about the possibility of your baby not developing into a model shinobi as expected of an Uchiha child, he scoffs at you. “We will love and raise our child no matter what. Do you think we burn our children just because they aren’t strong ninja?” He hates the idea of children as mere fodder or pawns in war. This is his precious baby for goodness sake!

Madara will often be by your side, to protect you, but also to spend time with you. He wants nothing more than for you to be happy and feel how much he loves you and the baby during these precious months. There is no way Madara will ever let you feel self-conscious about your appearance. To him, you’re more beautiful than ever (not only because he has a breeding kink, people. He actually finds your pregnant body stunning). He builds the baby’s crib and nursery with his own hands during this time.

Newborn- Madara is crazy protective. His baby is so tiny, fragile, and perfect. He’s terrified of hurting the newborn at first, but gets the hang of handling his baby very quickly. Madara is overjoyed from the birth of the Uchiha and proud of you for gifting him the greatest blessing of his life. Too much had gone wrong in his life and having both his child and wife emerge from the birth healthy seems unreal to him. He’s kind of obsessed with staring at his child and soaking in the cute baby sounds they make. He silently vows to do good by the child and protect them no matter what. You may think this traditional man might leave a lot of the child-rearing to the mom, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Madara is very involved with the care of the baby. It’s not like his desire for you to feel happy, loved, and cared for faltered since the birth. Of course he’ll help, especially knowing how tired you can be. He has to admit a newborn’s care requirements are quite demanding, and even more daunting than many missions.

Toddler- At this tender innocent age, when the child is more interactive, but still dependent on their parents, Madara melts with his child. We know Madara loves children, but also that they’re usually terrified of him. For one to not only be unafraid of him, but seek his company and even touch him? It’s enough to make him soft in the head.

Madara is protective (see a theme?) because he knows his young child has no means of defending themselves. It hurts, but he knows the shinobi world is harsh and strength is the only way for anyone to survive. He begins teaching his child basic skills like walking on water, perhaps through games. No techniques to fight yet. He wants to spare his child the harsh training he and his brothers endured from a horribly young age for even a few more years.

His child’s babbling speech is so endearing, but he isn’t the type to baby-talk. You make fun of him for talking like an old man to the child, but it’s what Madara does. Madara lets his child climb all over him, curl up in his lap, and reads to them while they play with his hair. He isn’t even upset when they yank. He just sits there to soak up the childish chattering and laughter. Expect this child to have exceptionally sophisticated speech patterns in the future!

Childhood- It’s time for proper ninja training. Madara will begin the long journey of passing everything he knows about battle onto his progeny. He’s a fair, but firm teacher and he isn’t cruel in his lessons. Battle tactics, basic jutsu, taijutsu, and weapon handling are in the books. His child is still very young and may not understand limits. Children can be harsh to each other and it’s Madara, a clan head who doesn’t enjoy beating up on the weak, who teaches his child compassion and the responsibility the strong have to protect those who depend on them. It’s a loving household they grow up in. Raised by you and Madara, the child grows into a strong, empathetic individual. Madara will feel like a failure if his child develops the Sharingan at any point in their life, even if he knew it was likely to happen.

Teenager- God help Madara and his kid. He raised them to be strong individuals, never expecting it to come back and bite him in the ass. They talk back using the same logic and sharp Uchiha roasts he instilled into them. It’s during these years his teenager pushes his boundaries to see how far they can go and they gain some independence through ninja missions, so Madara can’t keep as close an eye as he wants. He makes sure there are responsible adults watching over his child on missions, even if he can’t be there himself. He always worries about his child when they’re outside of the village, though he knows they are very powerful for their age.

Like other teens, his delinquent child can be dismissive of risk and hot-headed. It’s likely his child runs into a few of Madara’s many enemies at some point who try to leverage them against him. Regardless, Daddy probably showed up to save the day a few times when his child made reckless battle choices or bad decisions to rebel against his rules, decisions that could have costed them their life. Daddy Madara then dragged his child home to talk (and sometimes smack) some sense into them. He may be angry, but Madara was honestly scared stiff about losing his child.

If he has a daughter and she begins showing signs of interest in boys, Madara will seriously consider murder. Forget about the responsibility of protecting those who are weaker. “She will never date anyone,” he concluded, chakra flaring dangerously with distaste at the thought of any dirty boy who dared touch his baby girl.

Adulthood- Madara will remain a steadfast pillar of support and wisdom throughout his child’s life. He will always be the model his child looks up to. Madara is pretty easygoing, and would love nothing more than to spend carefree time together doing anything with you and your adult child. He cherishes every moment, knowing that shinobi can die at any time and it’s almost a miracle that his small family has survived until adulthood.

He will always love and support his baby. It doesn’t matter what painful situations and decisions being a shinobi will force his child into making, Madara will love them unconditionally no matter what, even if they ever end up on different sides of a conflict. That is what being family means.