Curate, connect, and discover
Madara Fanfiction - Blog Posts
hi! i don't know if you will read this but today is my birthday and i would like to make a request for a dirty - obscene madara that has blood kink (period blood) .
i hope you are well and have a nice day ❤️ your writing is always beautiful, ily
Dirty Blood Kink Madara Scenario
Madara was also requested to be horny and needy. *rubs my hands together.* Alright! I have my instructions! Hehehe thank you for this ask and the kind words. And happy belated birthday! I hope this short scene satisfies you.
Tags/warnings: 18+ NSFW, Madara x Fem!Reader, period sex including oral and vaginal sex, blood kink, somnophilia. No violence against the SO.
But come on, as if some blood would turn Madara off. Some people will find the bloody murder sex in this gross. You have been warned! (Mads was horny and didn't notice whatever menstrual product the SO was wearing, okay?) Words: 1540
Madara gazed down at the lush forests of Konoha from his mountaintop perch. The vast expanse of stars blinked like fireflies in the night sky, the sounds of nocturnal animals filled the warm air. His gaze fell on his home in the distance. It was good to be back.
It was a brutal mission spanning several weeks. No, he didn't enjoy the kills he inevitably had to make, but the enemies put up an excellent fight against him. What a battle the cumulation of this mission had been. Madara felt alive, the thrill of battle still thrummed wildly in his veins.
He stepped off the cliff and landed lightly on his feet whilst thinking of who was waiting for him at home. He couldn’t wait to see you. His woman. He needed to fuck.
It was protocol for shinobi to report to the Hokage tower upon returning from missions, but Madara could care less about the rules. He had to see you first if he was to remain civil with whoever he was obliged to deal with next. Besides, who was going to enforce the 'rules' on him? Everyone knew strength ruled in this world. The fool Hashirama wasn't going to pester him for going home to see you first and Tobirama could kiss his ass. If Tobirama took issue (he will), Madara was convinced the younger Senju must just be jealous that the Uchiha was going to have a better night than he.
With the easy decision made, Madara dashed through the empty streets, the summer breeze in his hair elevating his high spirits. He was alive. His senses prickled with awareness of his surroundings. There was a cat stalking a rodent in the alleyway around the corner. A drunkard stumbled down another. Thousands of nameless shinobi and civilians alike slept blissfully in their own beds. He sensed your presence before he arrived at his destination. Taking a well-practiced route that took him directly to his bedroom, he landed silently on the roof and was through the window instantly in a flurry of smooth motions.
Madara paused.
He was filthy, covered in the viscera of his foes. He was bloodied himself, with dirt matting his hair and his clothes torn. He was a hot mess and loved every second of it. He thought of you again －your gentle curves, the arch of your spine when you moaned and tried to take him deeper. Your voice as you found release. He longed to fuck you right now, but it felt wrong, sullying, to be in your presence and smearing the filth of others onto your body if he took you now.
His gaze landed on a lump in his massive bed. You were tangled in the sheets and fast asleep, completely unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. His expression softened, though his cock throbbed from thinking about your body. He thought of you again, of your bright eyes and smile whenever you saw him return home as you ran to greet him at the door. He almost growled out loud, but managed to contain himself. He made quick work of tossing his ruined garments and cleansing himself for you before he joined you in bed.
---------------
Madara nearly laughed as he explored your pliant body. Were you really a kunoichi? You were such a deep sleeper you haven’t even stirred despite how he handled you. He copped a feel of your squishy tits and wrapped his arms around your limp form to snuggle you. He sighed. How he missed this these past weeks.
His cock twitched again when he caught the scent of your hair. It was something lightly floral. He needed more of your body.
Upon feeling your ring around his probing fingers, he hissed. Only a few weeks apart and you were already this tight. He couldn’t wait to get inside you. Madara kept scissoring his fingers into your soft hole, pressing his nose to your neckline and inhaling hungrily. He missed everything about you greatly.
He wanted to be gentle…but now was not the time. Your runny slick provided ample lubrication and though he was large, you would be able to take him. He pulled his digits from your opening, only to be hit by the pungent smell of iron.
What’s this?
Excitement clouded his mind as he realized you were menstruating. The rabid Uchiha lapped up the fluids coating his digits before rational thought could stop him. The taste of blood filled his mouth, almost like he was still in battle. He groaned, fisting his steel cock as he debated whether to plunder his conquest now or to eat it first. Your essence was absolutely delicious.
He needed more of you. He got between your legs and gently eased them apart, then started feasting. Soon, the exquisite mixture of your arousal and blood flowed as he got you wetter and wetter. What could make one feel more alive than this, being surrounded by his woman’s pussy slick and her essence of life?
He buried his tongue to the hilt up your sheath. He relished the metallic tang and silken slime melting on his tongue as he kept drinking. Your fluids slid down his jaw and crept between the crack of your bum, soaking into the snow white silk of the sheets. A problem for tomorrow.
“Mada?” You jerked awake in alarm before feeling the familiar signature of your love’s powerful chakra. You could barely make out his shape in the darkness, but you knew it was him. You felt his excitement buzzing in the air.
"Shhh." He reassured you that everything was okay and flicked that sinful tongue on your clit before diving back into you to taste and smell your blood surrounding him.
The fog was slow to clear from your mind (some ninja you were). He wasn't expected to be home tonight, the mission ended early? Then again, it was very like Madara to make sure his enemies were thoroughly vanquished so he could rush home to you sooner.
You remembered it was the heaviest day of your period and clenched your thighs around Madara’s spiky head. The naughty, taboo act was embarrassing, but even you couldn't deny his skill. He eased the cramping and discomfort of your monthly.
Your lover kissed his way up your abdomen to capture your lips and share his delight. "Missed you," he whispered.
You didn't enjoy the taste of blood like he did, but you dreamed of being back in his arms for weeks. You returned his delicate kiss, matching it when it turned feverish. A hard length prodded your rear and you shifted to line up with it.
He buried himself in a single lunge. Your frame tensed, but the shock of the stretch passed quickly and pure euphoria set in. Bracing yourself up on your elbows, you urgently threw your hips back onto his in a sloppy meeting. The two of you moved as one. He gently palmed your face and stroked your cheek, despite the need in his own expression. Faster and faster he threw himself into you and you responded by grinding hard on him with a shudder.
Madara growled and pulled you to your knees with animalistic hunger, the bottom half of his face stained with a runny crimson, stabilizing himself on the headboard with one fist as he kept up his brutalizing pace. He was more beast than man right now. You squealed when he dragged across your sweet spot, making your fluids squelch with every thrust.
Your fingers caressed along his plundering shaft and made their way up your drooling slit to find your nub. You stroked yourself while he pounded you from behind for what felt like an eternity. He finally tensed, grabbing your hips to bury himself fully before shuddering. Your inner thighs that were already soaked in fluid were soiled by the rivulets of hot cum leaking from your tired, overstuffed snatch. The cooling liquids on the sheets were cold against your overheated skin.
His eyes were closed when he filled your core. A low, vibrating moan made its way from his throat, which could be felt against your back. Madara’s hands were everywhere -he petted between your legs and stroked down those limbs and back up to your hips. He licked your earlobes and brought his hands up to wrap around your waist to give you a hard squeeze before fondling your chest and wrapping a paw around your throat. He kissed you passionately, your tongues sparring once more as the sun rose to welcome a new day.
Daylight penetrated through the edges of the curtains to illuminate the room. The aftermath of the night looked like a crime scene. Your naked bodies and faces were covered in palm-width streaks of blood. Hand prints adorned the headboard, the fingerprints clearly discernible between each stain. Thank goodness the headboard was dark leather. It should be washable. The space you were lying on was drenched with dried, dark red pools across the entire bed at crotch level.
You giggled. You love Madara, but he only thinks with his dick once the hormones start running. What were you going to do with your ruined bed sheets and mattress?
Hunger.
Summary: "Anything you want," Kabuto went on, "anything and we can —" “That is not what I need,” Madara said, eyes never leaving yours Warning: SMUT, 18+ Word count: 2177 A/N: Wrote this for a friend who was getting over covid for the second time, jfc. Love you!
He crept from his crate, a hand on the threshold, pulling himself from death and into mortality.
There he was, in front of you, towering and beautiful and alive.
Madara, Father of the Uchiha, God of shinobi.
“It worked,” Kabuto said, marveling at his work.
The cavern was grave silent as Madara took his first step into the world of the living, turning to survey you with blackened eyes. His presence was immense, weighing down the world. Instead of Kabuto, you were the one to step forward. Madara towered over you, the bangs of his gigantic mane falling over his face.
You swallowed, bowed. “My … my lord.”
Madara inclined his head, furrowing his brows.
“Are you in —“ You choked. “Are in need of … of sustenance?”
A second. Madara turned to you again. “… Sustenance.”
It was not a question; it was as if he spoke the word to experiment with it, mull over its meaning, its context. His eyes met yours again and went through you.
“Food,” You clarified. “Food, or — or water.”
“… No.”
“We are at your command, Lord Madara,” Kabuto said.
It irked you how familiar Kabuto was being. To use his name so freely …
“Anything you want,” Kabuto went on, “anything and we can —“
“That is not what I need,” Madara said, eyes never leaving yours.
Kabuto’s expression was inquisitive.
“Your name, what is it?” Madara asked you.
You perked, startled. You answered.
At last, Madara took his eyes off you, facing Kabuto now.
“Leave us.”
Not a question but a solid command. Kabuto straightened. You could feel him look at you but said nothing, heartbeat quickening with the tick of seconds. In your peripheral, all you could see was Kabuto poofing away, leaving the cavern even more eerie in its quiet.
You blinked furious at Madara, who hadn’t, you were sure, blinked once.
“I … I,” You struggled. “I am at your command, Lord Madara.”
A beat and then Madara “hmmed”.
“At my command,” he said as though he had never heard Kabuto repeat the same words. He stepped closer. “… That is good to know.”
“I —“
But whatever you were died away as, lightning-quick, Madara’s hand came behind your head, forcing you forward and crashing you to his lips.
Your yelp was bitten away by the force of his kiss. Something slithered and a second later you registered it as Madara’s tongue invading your mouth, weaving with yours before retreating so he might nibble at your lower lip. Your hands were frozen in the air —
He lingered as he pulled away. He met your eyes again — and something was different in his, wild, feral.
“Do you know how long it’s been … since I’ve had a woman?”
His hand snaked from your head to your waist, hoisting you up. With almost instinct, your legs went around him as he carried you to the center of the cavern, where a miniature mesa stood, rising from the ground-like mattress. Madara ravaged your neck, hands smoothing over and hooking under your thighs. You raved with his touch, overwhelmed by it all, sure that in some recess of your mind you were dreaming this and would soon wake up, body beaded with sweat and ruined sheets.
You were so sure of your lack of lucidity you did not notice Madara setting you down until the chill of the rock hit your open back. You gasped as Madara’s hand slipped underneath your trousers, past your panties, and delighted in the soaking wetness it found there.
Madara growled — a low, bestial sound. He pulled back with a soaked finger. A second gasp as he yanked your panties to your knees.
Madara looked down, worked his jaw.
“You asked if I required sustenance?” he began, gripping hard on your thigh. “I do — you shall be my meal.”
He kneeled. You swallowed your heartbeat as Madara yanked your panties to your ankles. He pulled your legs apart and leaned forward, giving your slit one experimental lick before fully breaching it to claim his prize.
You sounded out, fists clenched as the tip of Madara’s tongue tickled your clit. His tongue collected the wetness building at your opening, using it to further lather his tongue and bathe your clit. Your thighs clenched around his head, your hand going to unzip the front of your shirt to grip at your breasts, clench your hardened nipples.
“At last …” Madara said, the heat of his breath hitting your labia, “something worth returning for …”
His mouth came over your labia, sucking and kissing the flushed skin. He hummed, vibrations of his voice rendering you speechless. You felt him pull away, only to brush a thumb against your clit, partnered with the ever-present flick of his tongue. Your back formed a pronounced crescent as he pressed a finger into your opening, your wetness surely spilling over the calloused digit.
You could hardly breathe, legs growing slack; Madara Uchiha was making a meal out of you.
“Tell me, young one,” Madara began, voice noticeably huskier. “Would you like another?”
You gasped for air, desperate for air. “Y — Yes.”
“…Hm.”
A smack at your labia and you squeaked, flinching at the sudden attack.
“M — My lord!” You corrected. “Lord Madara, yes!”
And, once again, air left your lungs as Madara inserted not one but two new fingers into your opening, devouring your clit in his mouth.
Your eyes rolled. I’m so full …! You grasped for something to clutch but there was nothing there — until Madara gripped your hand and placed it at the crown of his head. You gripped, hard, at his tresses, pulling him farther into your wet pussy.
Madara’s pace became maddening, his tongue lapping endlessly at your aching clit. You felt your climax begin to climb, until —
“Aaaah! Ha— ahh!”
You clenched around Madara’s fingers, your clit becoming too sensitive to lick. You attempted to flinch away but Madara held you flat on the slab by your abdomen. You could do nothing but scream as Madara continued on finger fucking you, clit crying to be left alone.
You threw your head back, through with it all as, finally, Madara’s fingers retreated from inside you. He moved away. You lulled your head to the side, and when you opened your eyes he was looking down at you, savoring the taste of you still left to linger on his fingers.
A small, rumbling chuckle.
“I enjoy you,” he said.
You moved, hesitantly, to rise, but he stopped you. He was between your legs again but standing. He yanked your pants and underwear from the sag they rested at your ankles, threw them away. His hand reached up to unzip the rest of your top and your breasts spilled over the edges, leaving you only in your fishnet. You snaked out it, throwing the undergarment over your head, now completely bare before him.
Madara teased the skin of your stomach, swerving past your belly button.
“Sweet skin …” Madara hummed. He kneeled again, lips grazing against your knees, hands smoothing up and down your legs. “Yes, I’ve missed this; a fine specimen …”
Madara left soft kisses against your legs, in a surprising moment of gentleness. You were still reeling from the overstimulation Madara had afforded you, so much so you did not immediately register the loss of his hands and lips against your skin.
Until you opened your eyes and he was above you, shirtless, adorned in only trousers, and you realized time must have passed between your first blink and your last.
Madara reached down, crept a hand behind your neck to pull you forward. He came to sit beside you, hand creeping down his trail of dark abdominal hair into his pants, pulling forth his cock.
His eyebrows raised expectantly.
“Come.”
You stopped your gaping and followed. Nearly crawling into Madara’s lap, legs wrapped around his waist. His hand cupped the dip of your back to steady you.
Settling hands on his shoulders, you bit your lip; you did not know how wet you were, and even as Madara’s cock tickled the tip of your entrance, just the tip hinted at the pain that was to come.
You faced him apprehensively — and froze.
His eyes had never been so dark, expression so determined.
“Sit.”
Madara’s other hand came to grip the space married between your thigh and ass and sunk fingers into the flesh there. Once again, you obeyed; settling on his cock, easing onto his heated member.
“Aa … aaa … ahah!”
He bucked and you cried out, head flying back. You felt his cock invade, tear into your slick walls.
Madara pressed you farther into him, skin slipping on skin. A dark chuckle.
You wrapped hands around his neck, face hiding in the croak of his neck as you struggled to swallow his cock.
Madara had been as patient as he could manage; taking control of your hips, he guided you down, while also meeting your hips, beginning a rhythm you could only hope to soon grow accustomed to.
“Aah …!” You cried, mumbling in his neck, his locks tickling the skin of your nose. “My — my lord!”
Madara grunted, instructing your hips as he guided his own. “Go on, bite. Do you think you’ll hurt me? Foolish girl.”
You leaned forward, biting into the thick of Madara’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. Another grunt from him, this time through gritted teeth. For a while, he was the only one moving if at all, pulling you down on his length, until, on what must have been the umpteenth thrust, you felt pleasure begin to blossom in your inner core, and —
“Oh …” You furrowed your brows. “Ahhhh!”
You opened your eyes and noticed that, now, your hips were moving on their own. Grinding down on Madara’s cock, you used his shoulders to steady yourself as you rode him. You rocked your lower half into him, the harsh hair of his happy trail brushing against your flushed clitoris.
“Ah — oh! My — my lord — I — oh!”
“My name,” Madara hissed. “My name.”
“Madara!”
He raised, bringing you along with him. He was on his feet and, with all his strength, thrust mercilessly into you.
You screamed out. Elated with the privilege of saying your king’s name, you started chanting it, a string of praise on him and only him as you hung on for dear life. The Uchiha pounded you with all his might. You were arched back, delirious with pleasure — until Madara reached for your jaw, forced you to face him, eyes hot on yours as he set out his work.
You felt the familiar tightness in your core and fought against it, cried out against it; you did not want it to end, but you were so close —
Your eyes rolled. “Madara …!” You gasped out.
“Now,” he ordered. “Do it —“
Madara’s assault was without mercy, preening your orgasm from you by force. You screamed, shudders rocking your body. You were left suspended in Madara’s hold, overwhelmed as his hand reached your womanhood and snatched your clit from under its hood, toying with your nub —
“Ahh! Madara!”
Madara growled. In a hurry, he set you down, forced you to your knees.
Almost on instinct, a frightening hold on your subconscious, you opened your mouth. Madara’s thick cock found your mouth, your cheeks hollowing for him. You sucked, the veins of his cock thick against the corners of your lips — and were rewarded with a harsh groan. Madara’s hand buried in the forest of your hair, forcing you yet closer.
“Swallow it,” he ordered. “Swallow me.”
Still drunk from the waves of your orgasm, rivers of hot, salty seed filled your mouth. Madara hissed as he emptied into your eager mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed, in bliss as you drank him. Madara lessened his hold on your head and pulled back, and you stroked mercilessly what was no longer in your mouth, swirling his cum around your mouth with your tongue, savoring the taste of your king.
King.
“Yess …”
When you drank the last drop, you dared to fall back. You released Madara’s cock with a soft pop, eyes traveling up Madara’s majestic form to see his head hung, eyes closed shut, brows furrowed. He was slowly recovering from his own climax, and your eyes fluttered, amazed.
He was beautiful.
A million years later, Madara’s slit open, saw you underneath him. His face was calm again, having regained his composure.
This time, you did not wait to be commanded; you stood, only to come up to his chest.
He reached out a hand, and met the back of your neck, only bringing you yet closer.
“I’m keeping you,” he said. “You’re mine from this point forward.”
You blinked. Was this the best day of your life?
“… Really?’
Madara smirked. “Didn’t I say I enjoy you?”
You blushed, having forgotten that part.
“Summon him back,” Madara said. “There is still much that needs to be done.”
Madara come-hithered with his fingers and you stood. He turned his back to you, walking away, and you — as you expected to be doing for quite some time — followed.
Light, pure light penetrated me. The contrast put me into haze. I didn’t recover my past sight, I increased it to a point close to enchantment. I saw the rays of light, in millions different shades of gold caressing her face in shock. When she moved her hands to cover her mouth, it was the most delicate movement I ever witnessed in my life. With a fluidity and a detail the Mangekyou Sharingan could never reached, I saw her gaze watching my previous eye in the sink, the second one on the floor, then coming back to my face. She repeated the same path two times and then she picked up what had happened. Still mesmerizing, I saw her face changing in horror and fainted. I could have catch her before her fall. But the new clarity of my sight left me absolutely stun. Everything was beyond wonder. Why did it never strike me before? Right now, in the bathroom floor she was so beautiful, so beautiful…
Madara Golden Age, Chapter 1 : Prologue
My new fic, The Sound of Snowfall, is now on AO3!
Madara Uchiha x Fem!Reader - Explicit TW: Emotional hurt, forbidden love, cheating
Synopsis: To restore their noble status and dissuade their looming rivals, your clan offered you as a concubine to Hashirama, the emperor of the newly-founded Senju dynasty. Unfavored, uprooted and lonely, you nonetheless found solace in Madara Uchiha, the emperor’s trusted general. That is, until that evening, when Madara returned victorious from the war.
Twin Flames- NSFW Chapter Five (End)
“I was on that blasted site to find you…You are exactly who I’ve been searching for all these years. And there is nothing in this lifetime that keeps us apart.”
On AO3
For my fan @margretesonigiri. Happy Murder Monday 🔪
Warnings: partially NSFW, romance, drama, conflict resolution, lots of dialogue, gratuitous smut, love making, cunnilingus, 69, face sitting, body worship, unprotected sex, mating press, breeding kink
The smut is under the cut. For readers who don’t do smut/are underage, you can skip the long sex scene and the ending will make sense. SFW version of the chapter here. Words: 7759
---------------
It was well over a month before you saw each other again. At first, Madara assumed both you and him needed time to decompress after the last encounter. Madara knew your shift schedule, which you previously provided to facilitate the planning of outings. You also mentioned another wave of school hitting. After weeks of radio silence from you, he figured you likely were very busy lately, but if your lack of contact was your playing of games with him, he wasn't engaging.
So he left for the conference in Japan for several weeks. The trip went well, all things considered.
His mood was foul for much of these last weeks, even while conducting business. The idiot Hashirama thought it was appropriate to venture a joking guess, asking if his ‘gloomy face’ was perhaps the result of the plague of romantic woes. The other brother, shrewd and opinionated, thankfully stayed quiet. Madara swore he would have stabbed Tobirama in the head if he was forced to endure prodding from another nosy Senju.
This was until Izuna decided he could comment on Madara’s life as well when they returned from Japan. Madara snapped back, rudely informing his little brother there was no issue, that his personal affairs were none of Izuna’s concern. The boorish boy dared to jeer at him, emphatically remarking that he should “just go see you again,” as if he made no attempts to contact you before the conference.
Staring daggers at nothing, he thought back on how you tried to return his keys that doomed night when he brought you home from your penthouse. As if he, Uchiha Madara, would take back an item he had gifted another. Your tears had finally ceased and you were disturbingly calm. When he wouldn’t accept repossessing the keys and attempted to reason with you again, your expression broke. You told him “money doesn’t solve everything.” Falling apart once more, you bid him goodbye while stuttering and left those keys on the passenger seat before easing the door shut behind you.
Stubborn woman. Similar to Izuna, there were times when you were childish in temperament. He already showed you who you were to him, yet you didn’t understand and left. Between you and him, someone had to be the adult.
Madara strode across his office, feeling thunderous as he recalled the memories he made with you. It seemed his thoughts were completely occupied by you lately. He thought back on your fingers tangled in his that treasured day when you searched together for Izuna’s gift, how you beamed at him in delight at your house, and your shocked expression during your first kiss with him. He remembered your juvenile jokes, the first time you approached him for a kiss and how you came to relax into his touch.
He relived your tears and self-deprecating words, how you shrank from him when he confronted you, and the way you offered yourself to him, as if that must have been all he wanted from you, before you walked out. Madara glowered bitterly as his mood darkened even further.
Despite everything that happened, time was the master of the heart. Even if he was surly during the initial days following that party and while abroad, after so long, Madara…missed you. He did not want to be apart any longer. Wishing for reconciliation and to bridge the distance that grew between you, he texted, asking if now was a good time to call. To his surprise, you agreed to speak with him.
---------------
You let the remaining seconds on the timer run out before absentmindedly fishing the udon from the broth. Ladling toppings into a bowl and spooning soup in, you poured piping hot liquid onto your other hand. You yelped in agony, hands flying up in shock and accidentally dumping more scalding soup over yourself and the stove.
You ground your teeth together and shouted in frustration. Mentally pushed beyond the limits, you whipped the damned ladle away, sending it crashing into a vase and knocking it over, fine crystal shattering in a flood of water and shards. Your fresh roses spilled onto the dining table. Roses for romance, now laying in a pool of broken glass. You snorted, the symbolism not lost on you.
Everything was a mess. Your home, your mind, your life. You were incredibly despondent these past weeks despite being swamped, consumed with writing several essays for your program. It was stupid BS. Did you really need to be in a Master’s program in anything to know it’s beneficial to be respectful when talking to someone? Okay, you were exaggerating if you said that was all your program was about, but there was so much fluff in comparison to the amount of material that was useful towards your future role as a Clinical Nurse Specialist or Nurse Practitioner.
You were also pushed to distraction by thoughts of a certain man. It was nearly impossible to focus. You cursed your stupidity for ever getting involved with him.
Your phone pinged, the cheerful sound grossly at odds with your turbulent mood.
It was him. He inquired if it was a suitable time to call now, informing again of how much he wished to hear from you.
Ready to turn that page in the final chapter involving him, you had been prepared to never see Madara again, convinced nothing can come out of staying associated except the promise of more pain.
…Clearly you also missed Madara dearly over the past weeks. It was as if the sun disappeared from your life and all that remained was a bleak landscape of dreariness, devoid of warmth and vibrancy. Longing compelled you to speak with him, to hear his lovely voice again.
Your ringtone sounded immediately.
“Hello? Madara?”
“Y/N?” You jolted at his voice from a single word, the part of your heart that was numb throbbing in pain.
“…How have you been, Madara?”
“Hn. I’ve experienced better days in my life. Y/N, you sound exhausted.” Madara’s voice was flat like he was also lacking sleep, yet it sounded as if he was holding back. Like he had much he wanted to tell you.
“Yeah, I had a bad shift today.”
“I thought you didn’t work today.”
“It wasn’t originally on the schedule I gave you, but I picked up. I needed the extra shift.”
Madara was quiet for a moment. Were you financially stressed? He frowned on his end, then spoke up. “I would like to see you again.” He had no desire to throw your relationship away. It must be mended, somehow.
He wanted to barrel back into your life again?! Just when you regained some measure of functionality by throwing yourself into school and work, drowning yourself in your professional life to prevent your personal demons an opportunity to revisit your thoughts, you hear from Madara again. For several weeks, you hadn’t been ready to see him before he went to Japan. By now, you were almost certain he must have gone on his trip and moved on as well.
Besides, what was there to say? After the fiasco that first and last time Madara brought you to a major event, you weren’t even sure how to face him anymore.
“Not tonight Madara. It was a disaster at work and I’m not emotionally sound right now. I don’t want to have another meltdown in front of you,” you told him and laughed in an attempt to make light of the conversation.
Madara wanted to tell you he did not mind if you broke down, that he was there to support you in times of weakness. He held his tongue, figuring that what not what you needed to hear and pushing harder at this time would only serve to drive you away again.
“How about another day? One when you are free and well-rested,” he suggested.
Part of you wanted to refuse him, but after all the care and kindness Madara showed you, how could you do that to this man? If nothing else, you both at least deserved closure.
“One chance, Y/N. Give me one more chance,” he continued. “Please.”
You were weak. With a lump in your throat, you found you couldn’t refuse your love’s heartfelt request.
“Give me a few more days to rest and unwind, then we can meet here.”
You ate your dinner udon in silence amongst the chaotic pile of broken dreams, surrounded by shattered glass, forgotten rose stems, and spilled tears.
---------------
Madara arrived at your house at your invitation, pausing outside to mentally rehearse what he wanted to tell you. He was determined to resolve your differences and reenter each other’s lives.
You opened the door for him. His frustration with the situation was ever-present, but his previous vexation at your actions dissolved upon laying eyes on you for the first time in so long. There you were, dressed comfortably in your pajamas, tiny in comparison to his size. You looked slightly tired and your eyes were mildly swollen, but your gaze was focused on him.
Your mind went blank the moment you heard the knock. Greeting him softly, you blinked at the large plant in his hand. It was a pot of phalaenopsis, or a moth orchid, the most common type of commercial orchid available because it can be tricked into flowering year-round. It was nothing special or exotic compared to your collection, but the gift Madara bore was white. White orchids were a symbol of sincerity. Madara was normally meticulous, but you wondered if he knew that or if the colour was merely a fluke. Your breath hitched when you caught a glimpse at the bundle in his other arm.
It was a dramatic bouquet filled with tulips, lilies of the valley, peonies, and carnations… all flowers of apology. Tulips were perennials that flowered year after year and represented new beginnings and peace, but these tulips were also in red to emphasize it was safe for you to trust Madara. White peonies represented shame for how he acted and a desire to right wrongs, and carnations not in pink, but red, expressed an aching heart and unyielding affection. There was a cut stem of giant cymbidium orchids within the bundle. Cymbidiums could mean many nice things, one of those being pure love.
This was no fluke. You stared at the bouquet to ensure you weren’t seeing things or getting your floral trivia incorrect. Madara was indeed expressing his great regret and a sincere desire to mend wrongs in a nonverbal way which was more natural to him. You swayed when you raised your shocked eyes to meet his. His expression was simultaneously grave, yet hopeful.
You invited Madara inside and closed the door behind him.
He stood by the entrance, not doing anything to remove his dress shoes or jacket. Instead, he watched you, waiting solemnly for you to take his offerings.
It was already late March and spring was quickly approaching, the biting chill of winter not nearly as harsh as the last time you met. Will this be a mistake? New beginnings. With a shaky breath, you accepted the white potted orchid and bouquet from Madara. The plant enthusiast in you wordlessly filled a spare vase with water and arranged the gorgeous bouquet. Once properly organized, it puffed up in a pretty display of red and white –delicate, bell-like lilies surrounded large fluffy flowers, the arrangement dotted with elegant tulips and a strip of pinkish-orange cymbidiums down the middle. Your chest clenched when you contemplated the deep meaning behind its beauty. What Madara wanted to tell you.
Madara continued to stand near the door as he silently observed you tread around your home. “Why are you apologizing so excessively?” You asked, gesturing at the array of quality blooms. “You are not at fault for anything.”
Madara hesitated, aware the minutes ahead will bring him to a position that will make him too vulnerable for comfort. He frowned. Your disposition was too polite, too formal with him. You wouldn’t even look at him. Neither did you truly invite him inside and offer him refreshments like the model hostess you were the last time he came over. It was like you were expecting him to state what he needed and leave.
He resented your aloofness and his part in bringing about this change in your demeanor around him. When it came to his emotions and those softer feelings you evoked, speaking candidly was difficult for Madara. He did not relish exposing himself, but this was a conversation that needed to happen. And if it would help you understand just how much you meant to him…
Madara had thought of what to say over the last two days, but upon seeing you, it was like his preparations vanished into nothingness. Not wanting you to ask him to leave, he needed to find his words again quickly.
“That is not true. There are many assertions I delivered poorly. I should never have been harsh to you, even if the sentiment was honest and that part I will not retract.” It was so like Madara to be painfully blunt even when he was trying to express remorse, it was almost comedic.
“Which part was that?” You asked wearily. Your heart seized, not ready to bear Madara’s gut-wrenching judgment again, but also knowing you and him needed to speak, that avoidance was no longer an option. You glanced again at Madara’s bouquet.
“That your sense of inferiority was unbecoming. I should never have spoken to you in such a way. For that, and the other words when I drove you home, I apologize. I…didn’t want to cause you pain. However, I maintain that that feeling of yours is misplaced and unnecessary. I would not have pursued if I thought you inadequate. We are equals if we are to be together.” He fixed you with a level stare which you returned with uncertainty.
You mulled over his words, remembering your realization at the end of the last confrontation with Madara at his penthouse, before he pulled you into his arms and let you weep. Madara wanted you for you.
You allowed Madara inside, bringing him to be seated at the same couch where he first realized the depth of his feelings for you. You awkwardly pulled out a chair from the adjacent dining table, but didn’t venture closer.
“Don’t you see we are from completely different worlds? Worlds that were never meant to collide if it wasn’t for the stupid dating site. What future is there for us? We aren’t meant to be together.”
Clenching his fists, Madara’s face stayed serene. He sighed, running a hand through his mane.
“Initially, it was Izuna’s bright idea to join that website on my behalf, but I only agreed to such an obscene plan because I saw you. There was no other woman I desired seeing. It was a coincidence that our paths crossed again after so many years, so even if I found the concept of that site distasteful, if there was the possibility to properly court you, I would utilize such a platform.” Madara paused, noting his tension and consciously ordering his hands to open.
“I was on that blasted site to find you. Our relationship was never of the sort suggested by the dating site that brought us back together.” He gritted out. He stood and came over, hand reaching for your face, the need to touch you again driving him to insanity. To his relief, you allowed his touch and made no attempts to stop him.
“Whatever future you desire, we can create together. I want to be with you,” he continued.
Madara stalled briefly, then kneeled before you and took your hands in his, the determination in his eyes unwavering.
“I am not a man of pretty silver-tongued words. You should know that.” Your eyes started to water as you acknowledged Madara’s statement. “Months ago, you said you liked me. Does that still hold true?” He asked.
A relationship took effort from both ends. You remembered every sweet moment you created together and the way Madara always tried for you. You recalled his fierce defence of you from that other woman. And his terrible words in the car as he drove you home, but also how he endeavored to make contact again to work things out while you fled.
You blinked at him to try stopping the tears that threatened to fall, trembling in his hands. Knowing he appreciated honesty, you replied, “Of course. I never stopped.”
Madara let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His expression completely transformed and a brilliant smile lit up his face. Looking at your hands, he stroked your palms. “Y/N, I will tell you this once: you are exactly who I’ve been searching for all these years. And there is nothing in this lifetime that keeps us apart.” He lifted his gaze back to yours, his face now closer. “I promise I will always take care of you, if you'll let me. You will want for nothing,” he vowed.
“I…trust you…” you rasped, still trying to wrap your head around how someone like Madara would want to be with a regular person like you.
Madara’s entire being rocked with your confession. How he needed to hear those words. “I won’t let you down.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
There was no need for Madara to reply. The answer was in his eyes. You knew. You must have known some time ago that he loved you. You merely didn’t know how to respond to the intensity of his devotion.
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for ignoring you all this time even when you tried to make amends before going on your trip,” you whispered.
He leaned in with his head angled up to press his lips to yours.
“Move in with me, Y/N. I'm serious. I was serious from the beginning. Share your life with me."
You made a pained noise and reached for him, hands entwining behind his neck to bring him closer. Your foreheads touched. You too will try harder with Madara. For him, you’ll be better than you are. Instead of giving up now, you will give yourselves another chance to speak each other’s language and understand one another.
“I like bouquets, but next time, don’t buy me cut orchids. Cutting their flowers is a travesty knowing how long it takes to nurture and grow them.” You sniffed, but smiled against his lips.
“Your wish is my command.” He glanced at your collection of exotic plants and tried to entice you with your hobby. “If you enjoy greenery this much, you can plant whatever you like if you move into my main residence with me and Izuna. We can have a lawn full of cherry blossom trees and build a greenhouse, hire gardeners to assist you. Whatever you want.”
“Madara? That might be the most attractive thing you said to me all day.”
---------------
“Stay the night?” Now that Madara was here, you didn’t want him to leave, as if you were afraid you would have to wait another lifetime to see him again.
Madara agreed readily, raising a sophisticated brow when you suggested he take your bedroom while you slept on the sofa bed in the other bedroom. “Just trying to be a good hostess,” you explained, grinning bashfully.
“I would feel your hospitality more deeply if my hostess didn’t disappear,” he teased. You giggled, grabbing his hand and leading him to your room, as relieved as Madara that your relationship remained intact. That not everything was lost and you both fell back into your prior dynamic without the strain with relative ease.
He settled next to you and pulled the sheets up. At first, you lay side by side with some distance remaining between you. Screw it. You missed Madara and he missed you. That much was clear after tonight.
You shimmied up to him and he wrapped an arm around your waist. Bringing his lips to yours, he nipped and prodded, entering your mouth as soon as access was granted.
You were breathless when you separated. “I missed you. I miss this,” you murmured against his ear sleepily.
“Hn,” he grunted in agreement.
Already back to his silent ways. You smiled broadly in the dark.
“Um…are you sweating?”
“Go to sleep,” came the gruff answer.
There was no ignoring the growing damp cold. Realization dawned on you –Madara was always warm. He must be broiling under your linens. Your mouth fell open. “D-do you normally sleep naked? If you’re hot, you…can take off your clothes if you want.” Your wording sounded horrible! Cringing in dismay, you thought about what else you could do for him.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“There’s no sense in having you suffer this way. You’ll make me a bad hostess.” He was much too conscientious. And in your mind, Madara was already adequately hot. No need to cause him to melt.
Fabric rustled and you felt a breeze touch your face as Madara discarded his clothing somewhere in your room before he returned to you.
His length pushed into your stomach. You knew Madara possessed an athletic muscular build, but being pressed against his bare body was an experience that made you heat up with desire and embarrassment. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.
The interesting, but welcome, turn of events leading to this moment tonight made Madara smile warmly and hold you closer.
Madara’s self-control was unworldly. You basked silently in each other’s presence, secure in the knowledge you still belonged to one another. Slowly, you relaxed into his embrace, your mind slipping into the realm of dreams. There was no funny business to be had tonight.
---------------
Madara invited you to his main house on a day Izuna was not in residence. He had plans for you today; plans he didn’t need his overzealous brother around for.
Gaping in wonder, you turned in a circle. Every new perspective granted ornate wonders. If you thought the ballroom and Madara’s penthouse were extravagant, this manor went well beyond what those venues offered. It was modern in style, but possessed an old world charm that was difficult to describe. Coffered ceilings dropped down to meet carved pillars and paneled walls. Antique Japanese wooden furniture and furs sat on luxury stone or hardwood floors. The choices were tasteful and nothing was overdone.
Madara brought you around the mansion for a tour. After multiple sitting rooms, waiting rooms, offices, guest rooms, saunas, and pools, your head spun as you were led down yet another corridor. Servants who came across you and Madara bowed in deference.
“I am going to get lost here,” you whined. Your entire condo was smaller than one of his closets.
“You will find your way around quickly, I’m sure.” You were sure you would as well if you didn’t want to be the subject of so many curious glances.
Madara made sure you were treated like a queen. You spent the rest of the day with him, curled against him on a velvet sofa while watching an assortment of movies in the home theater and gorging yourself on meals that must have been prepared by a Michelin star chef in the dining room. You washed and soaked in a scented bath that was fit for a goddess. You played foosball together, but of course he didn’t let you win easily.
The door shut and locked behind Madara. You knew why he brought you to his bedroom tonight. You felt nervous, but you too wanted to see this through. This was a long time coming.
[Long smut scene under the cut. You can skip to the end if you want]
Gazing at him fondly, you proceeded to start removing your clothing, but was stopped by Madara stilling your hands. He stared back at you hotly. After everything, he was going to undress you himself.
Slowly, tantalizingly, like he was unwrapping a priceless gift, he rolled the hem of your shirt over your stomach. You raised your arms to help him take it off. Reaching for your back, he kissed you as he undid the clasp on your bra, never breaking eye contact.
The sun crested the horizon in your life again. You rubbed your hands against his chest and torso, appreciating the hardness of his body, and carefully unbuttoned his shirt one at a time until it fell open to reveal his skin. You stared reverently at the art that was his body.
He didn’t let your eyes wander for long, unfortunately, eagerly coming back to rest his palms on your hips and pull you to him. You sought his lips again as you ran your hand through his silky hair, pleased with how you finally got to do that. A hand grasped your rear and squeezed. Rolling your butt against Madara’s paw to encourage him, you guided his other hand to the hem of your pants. He dipped his fingers under the cloth to feel the skin on your hip.
Not needing further prompting, two large hands suddenly found themselves beneath your underwear, grabbing, kneading, pulling your butt cheeks apart and smooshing them back together as Madara groped you shamelessly. Flushing in embarrassment, you averted your gaze as you realized you liked his manhandling.
He had you against the wall, not even a few feet into his room when he made you lose your pants and underwear. You stood fully naked, feeling so exposed. Fidgeting, you shyly covered your mound with one hand and draped a forearm across your chest, your cheeks burning.
"Enough. No more hiding or running. Show me," he commanded. Not long ago, it seemed you were getting ready to leave his life forever. Thinking back on that time put an unsavoury taste in his mouth. That didn’t matter anymore, Madara thought distantly. What mattered now was the woman before him, who chose to stay despite his blunders.
You obeyed, hesitantly slipping your hands to the side to reveal his prize.
You felt so self-conscious. Surely he had countless better partners before –ones with a more desirable figure, possessing more experience and who could please him better than you knew how. You felt you didn't belong with him in his inner sanctuary, but tried to reason with yourself. Remember Madara chose me. You squirmed, but remained uncovered for his inspection.
Madara was breathless. He ravenously consumed the spectacular sight of your nakedness, your body perfect to him in every way. Obsidian eyes followed the curves of your figure, enthralled by the angles on your collarbones, the tips of your breasts, and the smooth expanse of your torso. There was so much to see, so much to touch and explore. He will have all of you. His gaze dropped further south until he made acquaintance with your kitten for the first time.
“I want you,” he growled.
His tone woke a primitive part of your mind which shuddered in nervous anticipation. “You may have me.”
Nudging you flush to the wall with his own body, he got to work. His kisses were firm, more possessive than during the day. They demanded you yield to him, greedy hands matching their owner and squishing into your plush breasts and hips. He traveled to provide the same treatment to your buttocks and thighs, sucking your lips as he grabbed wherever his hands could find purchase, molding you into playdough for his enjoyment.
He kneeled before you again, though the mood was much different this time. He tilted his head to flicker his tongue against the surface of your mound as fingers prodded at your vulva, digging into the plump flesh and parting them to discover the treasure within. He salivated from his sampling taste. Bringing his mouth to suck at your clit, he then lapped at your smaller inner lips, the silken skin intoxicating. He had waited so long for this, and at last, here you were with him. Not enough.
A fingertip pulled back your clitoral hood and brushed directly against the most sensitive spot on your body. Forget playdough, Madara was determined to liquefy you, beginning with your legs. Knees giving out as you bucked in shock, you almost fell on his head. He chuckled as he pinched lightly at the little nub several times in between licks.
You continued to squirm, attempting in vain to escape Madara’s sweet torment by twisting and pulling away, the sensations too much to bear. Madara’s sinful mouth held fast to your crotch and followed your slow descent to the floor, his long raven hair pooling around him on the floor.
“Wait! Madara, what about you? I want to touch you too!”
“Patience. You will have me,” he promised huskily without pause in his actions.
He lay you down and spread your legs, earning his first good look at your pussy after removing your offending hands from obstructing his view. She was so pretty, so little and delicate next to his brutish strength. He softened for a moment and rubbed your calves adoringly to remind you that he was also yours. He eyed your puckered rosebud, promising himself the opportunity another day if you were interested.
Madara was steadfast in his sensuous manipulations of your body. He licked down your body from your throat to your collarbones, journeying down to squeeze and twirl around twin breasts. His trail left goosebumps in its wake. He made his way to your belly, his soft touches unintentionally tickling your senses as he kissed your abdomen and pelvis.
You watched through hooded eyes while he settled his bulk between your legs and ate you, your hands gently caressing his face and scalp. He was hungry, animalistic, his nostrils flaring as he buried his nose and scented your most intimate parts. He fluctuated between light and hard touches to your poor clit, his lips lapping and tugging at your inner labia, sometimes alternating by sucking on your vulva whole. Suddenly he looked up at your face. You gasped, unable to form words as his full appearance registered. His eyes were wide with freakishly dilated pupils, his stare as dark as the abyss. Wild lust emanated from him when he made a show of licking his lips and fingers while holding your gaze.
Maybe the image of the decorous gentleman he presented was only to reel you in.
You whined low in your throat, shaking. Your pussy oozed, the pleasure he pulled from your nether parts did away with all thoughts of decency.
“Madara, please let me see and touch you. I can’t wait anymore! I want to make you feel good too.” You tugged on his bangs to interrupt his meal.
He grinned at you. “You think I don’t glean pleasure from this?” He straightened out on his knees, towering above your splayed form to show you. The huge bulge stretching the front of his slacks was proof enough. “I could eat your pussy every day for breakfast and find myself sated.” He laughed at your awestruck expression upon encountering his clothed erection for the first time.
“But if you insist, very well.” Madara plucked you from the floor as he stood, cradling your cherished form as he strode across the dimmed room and carefully deposited you in his bed. Goodness, his bed was something monstrous. It was surely custom-made and much larger than the standard king sized, silk sheets and pillows adorning the plush mattress. You felt tiny sinking in.
He lay down close by and guided you on top of him, turning you around so you straddled him, but backwards. Your face was at his groin and yours hovered over his face.
“Take what you want,” he told you with a smirk you were unable to see, again running his tongue lengthwise up the inner surface of your snatch.
You jumped with a squeak. Determined to not be outdone entirely, you brought shaky hands to his pants, popping open the clasp and lowering the zipper. Gulping, you parted the opening to his slacks, heart pounding in anticipation as his tented boxers came into view.
“What’s wrong? Stopping there? I thought you wanted to see more,” he taunted with a Cheshire grin. You pouted indignantly, quickly pushing down his boxers and pants past his rear as Madara helpfully lifted his ass to assist your efforts.
A semi-hard piece of meat swung and almost smacked you in the face. It sat proudly in the warm room.
“Oh my God,” you sputtered.
Madara dared snicker at you! “It is too early to pray, Y/N,” he informed you.
The nerve of this man! You were no blushing virgin, even if Madara had you feeling like one. You huffed, dropping your head to peek at his face from between your legs. He didn’t catch you looking because he was captivated by the sight of your cute vagina winking at him from mere inches away. Your opening was barely visible.
His cock bobbed in excitement, pre-cum already beading invitingly at the tip and dripping to his pelvis. The erotic scent of his musk hit you, encouraging you towards depravity. You wrapped a hand around him to weigh his heft and licked from base to tip experimentally. He hissed. His cock was too thick. Your fingers couldn’t enclose his massive girth, making you worry about how he will fit once the main course was served.
You continued your explorations. Running a finger down his length to trace several veins, you petted his penis and scrotum, playfully jiggling the firm orbs in their loose sack. You giggled and tried to take him deep in your mouth, failing early from his sheer mass rapidly occupying the space, your lips stretched to their fullest and his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. You made a discontented sound, resolving to practice much more with Madara until you could suck him back whole.
He moaned in a quiet exhale, pausing his slurps to your clit and vulva briefly.
The sensation of a thick muscle sliding into your hole drove you into a frenzy. Your keens and pants filled the room. Madara twirled his tongue inside you, needing to taste all of you as he continued pressing skilled fingers to your bud. There was no more embarrassment from you, a base need possessing your mind as you were at last skin-to-skin with Madara.
You rode his face, soaking him in your slick. You were distracted from the sensations Madara elicited, no other man having ever come close to bringing you to this point before. What was this feeling? You couldn’t focus enough to keep blowing him. You massaged his member, pulling until silky skin wrinkled and sliding it backwards to retract it. Burying your face into his lower pelvis with your nose against his privates, you could only manage a few swipes of your tongue to Madara’s shaft as he devoured you like you were his buffet.
The act of drinking his goddess’ nectar directly from its source shot through his caveman brain to his rod, now harder than steel. He split your legs wider and you held the position for him to feast. You were like a honey pot.
He slipped a finger inside your needy cunt and quickly added a second. You were tight. He groaned. It was going to feel so good in there. Your lover rubbed the pads of his fingers around and curled them to investigate the ridges of your walls, to begin his lifelong study of the altar that was your body. He pressed into the furthest reaches of your sheath to trace circles around your cervix, making you whimper.
You remembered through the fog. “The string you feel at the back is my implanted contraception,” you told him.
“Hn. Good.”
Madara lay beneath you, one hand plundering your hole and rubbing your clit. His other hand found a breast, teasing the nipple until it formed a pebble. He relished the soft moans he coaxed from your lips and causing your uncoordinated movements as you attempted to stimulate him in return. It wasn’t necessary tonight, but he appreciated your efforts. Tonight was all about you. He was rock hard regardless of what you did.
You gasped and writhed, begging for mercy as you were driven into sensory overload. Yet you gyrated against Madara’s lips, sitting on his head hard and sucking his balls, you grabbed his face and humped it. You smeared his face all over your slimy cunt, needing more pressure to get yourself over the ledge.
Madara was drunk from feeding off your need. He held onto control by the thinnest thread as he continued to let you use his face and tongue for your pleasure and fingered you intermittently. He had to get you stretched if there was any chance you would accommodate him. Having waited this long, he would certainly show you the best of times.
Hooking your legs around his head, you moaned, trying futilely to bring his tongue and fingers deeper. You were kneeling on his hair, unknowingly pinning Madara to the bed, the range of movement for his head severely limited without yanking on his locks. Your voice reached a fever pitch as the dam broke. Gasping, you unseated yourself from his face. He was drenched, even down to his forehead and bangs. The musk of your release saturated the air. It was quiet. Did you drown him?
Madara finally remembered to breath and started panting in dumbstruck wonder, grinning from ear-to-ear. After falling over on the mattress in a mumbling, boneless heap, you were still at his mercy. You had been so pliant in his hands. Pleased with his work, he wiped his mouth with the back of a hand.
Your eyes met briefly as Madara maneuvered your loose limbs into a different position. You were enchanted by the intensity of his expression. Madara was fire. His body was warm as always, his love and grace living things that kept the fire bright. He looked almost feral. Now he was going to claim you.
You tensed as you felt you should ask. “Madara? Do you have a condom?”
He frowned. “I don’t.” Shit, he thought. Were you going to ask him to stop?
A decision had to be made. “…I’m clean,” you told him.
“As am I.”
“…I trust you.” As you expressed your faith in him again, Madara only felt cozy affection through the haze of his arousal. He bent down to press butterfly kisses along your jawline.
Your eyes bulged as he positioned himself by your entrance and started pushing. He was thick! Even with your flood of lubrication, it felt like he was knocking the breath out of you. Unconsciously, you rippled against Madara in your attempt to accommodate his intrusion.
With your small lips rhythmically clutching at him, Madara was addicted to the feeling of your pussy sucking him in. He pressed onwards slowly, not wanting you to request him to stop or worse, to injure you. Those were unfounded worries. Your quivering ridges fluttered on his cock as he slid home.
You held onto his shoulders, but otherwise lay still in ecstasy. The mind-blowing stretch from Madara’s entry was ever present, but it was no longer a cause for panic. As he pushed to the hilt and stayed seated within you, the stretch eventually dulled to a pleasant sensation of fullness. You were whole.
Madara needed to slow down. He wanted you to like this, no, to love this. He wanted you to reciprocate his hunger and keep coming back to him for more. He growled, fantasizing about making love to you every night, in every position, against every surface in the house. In each of his properties. Until there came a point when you were loosened up and could take him easily. Staring at your dazed expression, he thought of marriage, your belly swollen with his child, and building a life together. His euphoric mind ran through scenarios as he stayed motionless to allow you to get accustomed to his body in yours. His reveries were interrupted when you spoke up.
“I’m okay. You can move now Madara. But please, go slowly!” You whispered.
What a delicious, torturous texture from your walls. Control was slipping. Madara wanted to be gentle… his eyes fell shut.
He had to fuck you now.
Madara withdrew his hips, studying your expression attentively as he snapped back in. You bounced and gripped him tighter, earning a quiet grunt from Madara. He repeated his motions.
Madara obeyed your request: the pace of his thrusts slow, but each plunge was hard. You mewled, fingers slipping between your thighs to rub at Madara’s jewels. You wanted this, wanted him. You wriggled, hips moving on their own to assist with your penetration. You met him thrust for thrust with fervor, gazing back wantonly as you pulled his hips into your core.
He moved his arms from the sides of your head, which prevented him from crushing you. Primal need approaching the top of a crescendo, he pushed your knees to the mattress to fold you in half and got on his haunches, each drive now more frenetic and impossibly deep. It was an exquisite angle, hitting a gratifying spot that sent electricity coursing through your body.
Madara continued to squat into you, sinking in so his balls slapped your arse lewdly with every drive. Your soaking pussy slurped at his cock battering her, sucking at him instinctively to milk him of his essence. You couldn’t move or do anything at all except take it. The thought of your naughty position made you delirious. You were stuffed, each wet slap driving you higher towards nirvana.
You looked up at him submissively and stroked his cheeks that were baptized in your juices as he rutted like an animal. “I love you Madara.”
Your soft words seemed to break his concentration. He stared passionately, the sight of you impaled on his shaft clouding his thoughts with arousal and desire.
As your climax crested, another decision to make was at the tip of your tongue. “…I won’t get pregnant.”
“…” He grunted, the purpose of this brief discussion already dawning on his frenzied mind.
“…If you want, you may finish inside me…” You whispered while staring at the man you loved.
Your words made Madara’s brain do cartwheels. He missed a beat and almost came right there. It was an affliction of the wealthy, but the warnings about women who tried to baby trap other rich men momentarily crossed Madara’s mind. It was terribly inappropriate timing. He also knew you weren’t that sort of women and felt guilty even involuntarily associating such a situation with you.
But Madara would love to have children with you and certainly would not mind if you baby-trapped him. He looked upon you lovingly, glad to finally be together.
He picked up the pace, pushing deep and fast, his focused expression in stark contrast to your blissful, fucked out countenance. He rubbed your nub frantically. Moaning softly, you finished a second time, the strength of your release washing over you in waves.
The spastic jerking of your walls pulsed on him. Uncharacteristically, Madara could not hold on for much longer. It must have been the potency of his love for you that had him undone.
With a soundless roar, Madara came to the thought of how deeply he felt for you and the fantasy of fertilizing your eggs. His cock twitched, sending vibrations through your pouch as his seed flooded you. With nowhere to go but out, his batter escaped, seeping down to coat your crack in your combined fluids.
He fixed you with his piercing gaze. “I love you more,” he confessed.
Madara was like the burning sun that lit up the skies and illuminated the world. But for you, he was more akin to a warming fire than a searing bonfire. You did have another home.
Home was wherever Madara was.
Instead of cutting your story together short, you couldn’t wait to turn that page to continue onto the next chapter of your life with him.
---------------
Dance music sounded deafeningly as lights blared in the salsa bar. You were on another date with Madara, but this one was special. Izuna and Jasna joined you and Madara in this group date. When you mentioned you had never been to a salsa bar and Jasna also expressed her interest, Madara suggested she come along. Izuna invited himself. He was a natural, a social setting being Izuna’s innate habitat and Jasna was already at ease conversing with him. You both cackled and mocked Izuna for something he said before sashaying to the dance floor.
Izuna and Madara shared a look as they watched you and your friend dance with abandon, guffawing like hyenas while singing along to the song. The curve of your eyebrows furrowed at a comment Jasna made, then your cheeks pulled up and dimpled as you laughed at your own joke.
*“When marimba rhythms start to play Dance with me, make me sway Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close, sway me more”
“Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me, sway with ease When we dance, you have a way with me Stay with me, sway with me”
Your rhythm was correct, even if your steps were wrong for the kinds of dance this song demanded. You and Jasna made up for it with childish enthusiasm. You twirled each other and Jasna dipped you down to the beat. You were so silly, so dazzling. Madara laughed in earnest with Izuna, your light blinding in the darkness of the room.
“Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you Only you have that magic technique When we sway, I go weak”
“I can hear the sounds of violins Long before it begins Make me thrill as only you know how Sway me smooth, sway me now”
There was no one else he wanted to spend his life with. He would do anything it took to keep you happy. Madara sauntered up to you, the crowd parting before him. Your eyes met. The power behind his stare was like he had you hypnotized with his gaze, but that was of course impossible. Your heart filled with warmth at the sight of him. Others may not see him for who he truly was, but for you, loving Madara was as natural as breathing.
His next words would forever etch themselves into your soul.
"Dance with me."
~End~
---------------
Notes:
I am incredibly proud of myself for finishing this story! First fanfic I’ve written in well over a decade! I hope you found the ending believable and satisfactory. The premise of this story was simple from the beginning. One theme I wanted to highlight in this story was good relationships where the partners do not communicate their love the same way and the difficulties that can arise. When you were with Madara, whether that was cooking for him and lavishing him with attention, or spending quality time together, that was when he felt your affection most. Whereas for her, those things were important, but she was indeed feeling inferior with this man who was larger than life. She also needed the words to confirm Madara’s feelings at a time when she was ready for the conversation. As we know, Madara is more a man of action than words, until he is pushed to speak his deepest thoughts.
While there are many unhealthy relationships with glaring red flags that should be promptly cut off and discarded, I sincerely believe there are many people too willing to hastily throw away what they have before even attempting to fix what’s there. Getting into a relationship isn’t the destination, but only the beginning. Maintaining the relationship is the difficult journey requiring hard work from both sides and an ongoing process. “Journey before Destination,” my friends.
Yes Madara can be so petty (and a STUBBORN hypocrite) until his heart told him he couldn’t stay away any longer. His cold shoulder backfired hard on him 😆.
Writing Madara in his different moods (the spectrum ranging from romantic, to awkward, silly, angry, frustrated, regretful, horny, and completely, utterly elated and in love) was challenging and I hope I did him justice. The goal was to have him still behave like Madara even when he was feeling fluffier.
I hope you enjoyed the journey between Madara and his nurse over the course of these past weeks! What a great month I had bringing them to life! 💕
*The lyrics at the end of the fic is of course from the legendary song “Sway.” The version in my mind is sung by Michael Buble.
Twin Flames- SFW Chapter Five (End)
“I was on that blasted site to find you…You are exactly who I’ve been searching for all these years. And there is nothing in this lifetime that keeps us apart.”
Warnings: romance, drama, conflict resolution, lots of dialogue
For readers who don’t do smut/are underage, the long sex scene can be skipped and the ending will make sense. Words: 4569
It was well over a month before you saw each other again. At first, Madara assumed both you and him needed time to decompress after the last encounter. Madara knew your shift schedule, which you previously provided to facilitate the planning of outings. You also mentioned another wave of school hitting. After weeks of radio silence from you, he figured you likely were very busy lately, but if your lack of contact was your playing of games with him, he wasn't engaging.
So he left for the conference in Japan for several weeks. The trip went well, all things considered.
His mood was foul for much of these last weeks, even while conducting business. The idiot Hashirama thought it was appropriate to venture a joking guess, asking if his ‘gloomy face’ was perhaps the result of the plague of romantic woes. The other brother, shrewd and opinionated, thankfully stayed quiet. Madara swore he would have stabbed Tobirama in the head if he was forced to endure prodding from another nosy Senju.
This was until Izuna decided he could comment on Madara’s life as well when they returned from Japan. Madara snapped back, rudely informing his little brother there was no issue, that his personal affairs were none of Izuna’s concern. The boorish boy dared to jeer at him, emphatically remarking that he should “just go see you again,” as if he made no attempts to contact you before the conference.
Staring daggers at nothing, he thought back on how you tried to return his keys that doomed night when he brought you home from your penthouse. As if he, Uchiha Madara, would take back an item he had gifted another. Your tears had finally ceased and you were disturbingly calm. When he wouldn’t accept repossessing the keys and attempted to reason with you again, your expression broke. You told him “money doesn’t solve everything.” Falling apart once more, you bid him goodbye while stuttering and left those keys on the passenger seat before easing the door shut behind you.
Stubborn woman. Similar to Izuna, there were times when you were childish in temperament. He already showed you who you were to him, yet you didn’t understand and left. Between you and him, someone had to be the adult.
Madara strode across his office, feeling thunderous as he recalled the memories he made with you. It seemed his thoughts were completely occupied by you lately. He thought back on your fingers tangled in his that treasured day when you searched together for Izuna’s gift, how you beamed at him in delight at your house, and your shocked expression during your first kiss with him. He remembered your juvenile jokes, the first time you approached him for a kiss and how you came to relax into his touch.
He relived your tears and self-deprecating words, how you shrank from him when he confronted you, and the way you offered yourself to him, as if that must have been all he wanted from you, before you walked out. Madara glowered bitterly as his mood darkened even further.
Despite everything that happened, time was the master of the heart. Even if he was surly during the initial days following that party and while abroad, after so long, Madara…missed you. He did not want to be apart any longer. Wishing for reconciliation and to bridge the distance that grew between you, he texted, asking if now was a good time to call. To his surprise, you agreed to speak with him.
---------------
You let the remaining seconds on the timer run out before absentmindedly fishing the udon from the broth. Ladling toppings into a bowl and spooning soup in, you poured piping hot liquid onto your other hand. You yelped in agony, hands flying up in shock and accidentally dumping more scalding soup over yourself and the stove.
You ground your teeth together and shouted in frustration. Mentally pushed beyond the limits, you whipped the damned ladle away, sending it crashing into a vase and knocking it over, fine crystal shattering in a flood of water and shards. Your fresh roses spilled onto the dining table. Roses for romance, now laying in a pool of broken glass. You snorted, the symbolism not lost on you.
Everything was a mess. Your home, your mind, your life. You were incredibly despondent these past weeks despite being swamped, consumed with writing several essays for your program. It was stupid BS. Did you really need to be in a Master’s program in anything to know it’s beneficial to be respectful when talking to someone? Okay, you were exaggerating if you said that was all your program was about, but there was so much fluff in comparison to the amount of material that was useful towards your future role as a Clinical Nurse Specialist or Nurse Practitioner.
You were also pushed to distraction by thoughts of a certain man. It was nearly impossible to focus. You cursed your stupidity for ever getting involved with him.
Your phone pinged, the cheerful sound grossly at odds with your turbulent mood.
It was him. He inquired if it was a suitable time to call now, informing again of how much he wished to hear from you.
Ready to turn that page in the final chapter involving him, you had been prepared to never see Madara again, convinced nothing can come out of staying associated except the promise of more pain.
…Clearly you also missed Madara dearly over the past weeks. It was as if the sun disappeared from your life and all that remained was a bleak landscape of dreariness, devoid of warmth and vibrancy. Longing compelled you to speak with him, to hear his lovely voice again.
Your ringtone sounded immediately.
“Hello? Madara?”
“Y/N?” You jolted at his voice from a single word, the part of your heart that was numb throbbing in pain.
“…How have you been, Madara?”
“Hn. I’ve experienced better days in my life. Y/N, you sound exhausted.” Madara’s voice was flat like he was also lacking sleep, yet it sounded as if he was holding back. Like he had much he wanted to tell you.
“Yeah, I had a bad shift today.”
“I thought you didn’t work today.”
“It wasn’t originally on the schedule I gave you, but I picked up. I needed the extra shift.”
Madara was quiet for a moment. Were you financially stressed? He frowned on his end, then spoke up. “I would like to see you again.” He had no desire to throw your relationship away. It must be mended, somehow.
He wanted to barrel back into your life again?! Just when you regained some measure of functionality by throwing yourself into school and work, drowning yourself in your professional life to prevent your personal demons an opportunity to revisit your thoughts, you hear from Madara again. For several weeks, you hadn’t been ready to see him before he went to Japan. By now, you were almost certain he must have gone on his trip and moved on as well.
Besides, what was there to say? After the fiasco that first and last time Madara brought you to a major event, you weren’t even sure how to face him anymore.
“Not tonight Madara. It was a disaster at work and I’m not emotionally sound right now. I don’t want to have another meltdown in front of you,” you told him and laughed in an attempt to make light of the conversation.
Madara wanted to tell you he did not mind if you broke down, that he was there to support you in times of weakness. He held his tongue, figuring that what not what you needed to hear and pushing harder at this time would only serve to drive you away again.
“How about another day? One when you are free and well-rested,” he suggested.
Part of you wanted to refuse him, but after all the care and kindness Madara showed you, how could you do that to this man? If nothing else, you both at least deserved closure.
“One chance, Y/N. Give me one more chance,” he continued. “Please.”
You were weak. With a lump in your throat, you found you couldn’t refuse your love’s heartfelt request.
“Give me a few more days to rest and unwind, then we can meet here.”
You ate your dinner udon in silence amongst the chaotic pile of broken dreams, surrounded by shattered glass, forgotten rose stems, and spilled tears.
---------------
Madara arrived at your house at your invitation, pausing outside to mentally rehearse what he wanted to tell you. He was determined to resolve your differences and reenter each other’s lives.
You opened the door for him. His frustration with the situation was ever-present, but his previous vexation at your actions dissolved upon laying eyes on you for the first time in so long. There you were, dressed comfortably in your pajamas, tiny in comparison to his size. You looked slightly tired and your eyes were mildly swollen, but your gaze was focused on him.
Your mind went blank the moment you heard the knock. Greeting him softly, you blinked at the large plant in his hand. It was a pot of phalaenopsis, or a moth orchid, the most common type of commercial orchid available because it can be tricked into flowering year-round. It was nothing special or exotic compared to your collection, but the gift Madara bore was white. White orchids were a symbol of sincerity. Madara was normally meticulous, but you wondered if he knew that or if the colour was merely a fluke. Your breath hitched when you caught a glimpse at the bundle in his other arm.
It was a dramatic bouquet filled with tulips, lilies of the valley, peonies, and carnations… all flowers of apology. Tulips were perennials that flowered year after year and represented new beginnings and peace, but these tulips were also in red to emphasize it was safe for you to trust Madara. White peonies represented shame for how he acted and a desire to right wrongs, and carnations not in pink, but red, expressed an aching heart and unyielding affection. There was a cut stem of giant cymbidium orchids within the bundle. Cymbidiums could mean many nice things, one of those being pure love.
This was no fluke. You stared at the bouquet to ensure you weren’t seeing things or getting your floral trivia incorrect. Madara was indeed expressing his great regret and a sincere desire to mend wrongs in a nonverbal way which was more natural to him. You swayed when you raised your shocked eyes to meet his. His expression was simultaneously grave, yet hopeful.
You invited Madara inside and closed the door behind him.
He stood by the entrance, not doing anything to remove his dress shoes or jacket. Instead, he watched you, waiting solemnly for you to take his offerings.
It was already late March and spring was quickly approaching, the biting chill of winter not nearly as harsh as the last time you met. Will this be a mistake? New beginnings. With a shaky breath, you accepted the white potted orchid and bouquet from Madara. The plant enthusiast in you wordlessly filled a spare vase with water and arranged the gorgeous bouquet. Once properly organized, it puffed up in a pretty display of red and white –delicate, bell-like lilies surrounded large fluffy flowers, the arrangement dotted with elegant tulips and a strip of pinkish-orange cymbidiums down the middle. Your chest clenched when you contemplated the deep meaning behind its beauty. What Madara wanted to tell you.
Madara continued to stand near the door as he silently observed you tread around your home. “Why are you apologizing so excessively?” You asked, gesturing at the array of quality blooms. “You are not at fault for anything.”
Madara hesitated, aware the minutes ahead will bring him to a position that will make him too vulnerable for comfort. He frowned. Your disposition was too polite, too formal with him. You wouldn’t even look at him. Neither did you truly invite him inside and offer him refreshments like the model hostess you were the last time he came over. It was like you were expecting him to state what he needed and leave.
He resented your aloofness and his part in bringing about this change in your demeanor around him. When it came to his emotions and those softer feelings you evoked, speaking candidly was difficult for Madara. He did not relish exposing himself, but this was a conversation that needed to happen. And if it would help you understand just how much you meant to him…
Madara had thought of what to say over the last two days, but upon seeing you, it was like his preparations vanished into nothingness. Not wanting you to ask him to leave, he needed to find his words again quickly.
“That is not true. There are many assertions I delivered poorly. I should never have been harsh to you, even if the sentiment was honest and that part I will not retract.” It was so like Madara to be painfully blunt even when he was trying to express remorse, it was almost comedic.
“Which part was that?” You asked wearily. Your heart seized, not ready to bear Madara’s gut-wrenching judgment again, but also knowing you and him needed to speak, that avoidance was no longer an option. You glanced again at Madara’s bouquet.
“That your sense of inferiority was unbecoming. I should never have spoken to you in such a way. For that, and the other words when I drove you home, I apologize. I…didn’t want to cause you pain. However, I maintain that that feeling of yours is misplaced and unnecessary. I would not have pursued if I thought you inadequate. We are equals if we are to be together.” He fixed you with a level stare which you returned with uncertainty.
You mulled over his words, remembering your realization at the end of the last confrontation with Madara at his penthouse, before he pulled you into his arms and let you weep. Madara wanted you for you.
You allowed Madara inside, bringing him to be seated at the same couch where he first realized the depth of his feelings for you. You awkwardly pulled out a chair from the adjacent dining table, but didn’t venture closer.
“Don’t you see we are from completely different worlds? Worlds that were never meant to collide if it wasn’t for the stupid dating site. What future is there for us? We aren’t meant to be together.”
Clenching his fists, Madara’s face stayed serene. He sighed, running a hand through his mane.
“Initially, it was Izuna’s bright idea to join that website on my behalf, but I only agreed to such an obscene plan because I saw you. There was no other woman I desired seeing. It was a coincidence that our paths crossed again after so many years, so even if I found the concept of that site distasteful, if there was the possibility to properly court you, I would utilize such a platform.” Madara paused, noting his tension and consciously ordering his hands to open.
“I was on that blasted site to find you. Our relationship was never of the sort suggested by the dating site that brought us back together.” He gritted out. He stood and came over, hand reaching for your face, the need to touch you again driving him to insanity. To his relief, you allowed his touch and made no attempts to stop him.
“Whatever future you desire, we can create together. I want to be with you,” he continued.
Madara stalled briefly, then kneeled before you and took your hands in his, the determination in his eyes unwavering.
“I am not a man of pretty silver-tongued words. You should know that.” Your eyes started to water as you acknowledged Madara’s statement. “Months ago, you said you liked me. Does that still hold true?” He asked.
A relationship took effort from both ends. You remembered every sweet moment you created together and the way Madara always tried for you. You recalled his fierce defence of you from that other woman. And his terrible words in the car as he drove you home, but also how he endeavored to make contact again to work things out while you fled.
You blinked at him to try stopping the tears that threatened to fall, trembling in his hands. Knowing he appreciated honesty, you replied, “Of course. I never stopped.”
Madara let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His expression completely transformed and a brilliant smile lit up his face. Looking at your hands, he stroked your palms. “Y/N, I will tell you this once: you are exactly who I’ve been searching for all these years. And there is nothing in this lifetime that keeps us apart.” He lifted his gaze back to yours, his face now closer. “I promise I will always take care of you, if you'll let me. You will want for nothing,” he vowed.
“I…trust you…” you rasped, still trying to wrap your head around how someone like Madara would want to be with a regular person like you.
Madara’s entire being rocked with your confession. How he needed to hear those words. “I won’t let you down.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
There was no need for Madara to reply. The answer was in his eyes. You knew. You must have known some time ago that he loved you. You merely didn’t know how to respond to the intensity of his devotion.
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for ignoring you all this time even when you tried to make amends before going on your trip,” you whispered.
He leaned in with his head angled up to press his lips to yours.
“Move in with me, Y/N. I'm serious. I was serious from the beginning. Share your life with me."
You made a pained noise and reached for him, hands entwining behind his neck to bring him closer. Your foreheads touched. You too will try harder with Madara. For him, you’ll be better than you are. Instead of giving up now, you will give yourselves another chance to speak each other’s language and understand one another.
“I like bouquets, but next time, don’t buy me cut orchids. Cutting their flowers is a travesty knowing how long it takes to nurture and grow them.” You sniffed, but smiled against his lips.
“Your wish is my command.” He glanced at your collection of exotic plants and tried to entice you with your hobby. “If you enjoy greenery this much, you can plant whatever you like if you move into my main residence with me and Izuna. We can have a lawn full of cherry blossom trees and build a greenhouse, hire gardeners to assist you. Whatever you want.”
“Madara? That might be the most attractive thing you said to me all day.”
---------------
“Stay the night?” Now that Madara was here, you didn’t want him to leave, as if you were afraid you would have to wait another lifetime to see him again.
Madara agreed readily, raising a sophisticated brow when you suggested he take your bedroom while you slept on the sofa bed in the other bedroom. “Just trying to be a good hostess,” you explained, grinning bashfully.
“I would feel your hospitality more deeply if my hostess didn’t disappear,” he teased. You giggled, grabbing his hand and leading him to your room, as relieved as Madara that your relationship remained intact. That not everything was lost and you both fell back into your prior dynamic without the strain with relative ease.
He settled next to you and pulled the sheets up. At first, you lay side by side with some distance remaining between you. Screw it. You missed Madara and he missed you. That much was clear after tonight.
You shimmied up to him and he wrapped an arm around your waist. Bringing his lips to yours, he nipped and prodded, entering your mouth as soon as access was granted.
You were breathless when you separated. “I missed you. I miss this,” you murmured against his ear sleepily.
“Hn,” he grunted in agreement.
Already back to his silent ways. You smiled broadly in the dark.
“Um…are you sweating?”
“Go to sleep,” came the gruff answer.
There was no ignoring the growing damp cold. Realization dawned on you –Madara was always warm. He must be broiling under your linens. Your mouth fell open. “D-do you normally sleep naked? If you’re hot, you…can take off your clothes if you want.” Your wording sounded horrible! Cringing in dismay, you thought about what else you could do for him.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“There’s no sense in having you suffer this way. You’ll make me a bad hostess.” He was much too conscientious. And in your mind, Madara was already adequately hot. No need to cause him to melt.
Fabric rustled and you felt a breeze touch your face as Madara discarded his clothing somewhere in your room before he returned to you.
His length pushed into your stomach. You knew Madara possessed an athletic muscular build, but being pressed against his bare body was an experience that made you heat up with desire and embarrassment. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.
The interesting, but welcome, turn of events leading to this moment tonight made Madara smile warmly and hold you closer.
Madara’s self-control was unworldly. You basked silently in each other’s presence, secure in the knowledge you still belonged to one another. Slowly, you relaxed into his embrace, your mind slipping into the realm of dreams. There was no funny business to be had tonight.
---------------
Madara invited you to his main house on a day Izuna was not in residence. He had plans for you today; plans he didn’t need his overzealous brother around for.
Gaping in wonder, you turned in a circle. Every new perspective granted ornate wonders. If you thought the ballroom and Madara’s penthouse were extravagant, this manor went well beyond what those venues offered. It was modern in style, but possessed an old world charm that was difficult to describe. Coffered ceilings dropped down to meet carved pillars and paneled walls. Antique Japanese wooden furniture and furs sat on luxury stone or hardwood floors. The choices were tasteful and nothing was overdone.
Madara brought you around the mansion for a tour. After multiple sitting rooms, waiting rooms, offices, guest rooms, saunas, and pools, your head spun as you were led down yet another corridor. Servants who came across you and Madara bowed in deference.
“I am going to get lost here,” you whined. Your entire condo was smaller than one of his closets.
“You will find your way around quickly, I’m sure.” You were sure you would as well if you didn’t want to be the subject of so many curious glances.
Madara made sure you were treated like a queen. You spent the rest of the day with him, curled against him on a velvet sofa while watching an assortment of movies in the home theater and gorging yourself on meals that must have been prepared by a Michelin star chef in the dining room. You washed and soaked in a scented bath that was fit for a goddess. You played foosball together, but of course he didn’t let you win easily.
The door shut and locked behind Madara. You knew why he brought you to his bedroom tonight. You felt nervous, but you too wanted to see this through. This was a long time coming.
---------------
“I love you Madara.”
He looked upon you lovingly, glad to finally be together. It must have been the potency of his love for you that had him undone.
He fixed you with his piercing gaze. “I love you more,” he confessed.
The sun crested the horizon in your life again.
You were enchanted by the intensity of his expression. Madara was fire. His body was warm as always, his love and grace living things that kept the fire bright.
Madara was like the burning sun that lit up the skies and illuminated the world. But for you, he was more akin to a warming fire than a searing bonfire. You did have another home.
Home was wherever Madara was.
Instead of cutting your story together short, you couldn’t wait to turn that page to continue onto the next chapter of your life with him.
---------------
Dance music sounded deafeningly as lights blared in the salsa bar. You were on another date with Madara, but this one was special. Izuna and Jasna joined you and Madara in this group date. When you mentioned you had never been to a salsa bar and Jasna also expressed her interest, Madara suggested she come along. Izuna invited himself. He was a natural, a social setting being Izuna’s innate habitat and Jasna was already at ease conversing with him. You both cackled and mocked Izuna for something he said before sashaying to the dance floor.
Izuna and Madara shared a look as they watched you and your friend dance with abandon, guffawing like hyenas while singing along to the song. The curve of your eyebrows furrowed at a comment Jasna made, then your cheeks pulled up and dimpled as you laughed at your own joke.
*“When marimba rhythms start to play Dance with me, make me sway Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore Hold me close, sway me more”
“Like a flower bending in the breeze Bend with me, sway with ease When we dance, you have a way with me Stay with me, sway with me”
Your rhythm was correct, even if your steps were wrong for the kinds of dance this song demanded. You and Jasna made up for it with childish enthusiasm. You twirled each other and Jasna dipped you down to the beat. You were so silly, so dazzling. Madara laughed in earnest with Izuna, your light blinding in the darkness of the room.
“Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you Only you have that magic technique When we sway, I go weak”
“I can hear the sounds of violins Long before it begins Make me thrill as only you know how Sway me smooth, sway me now”
There was no one else he wanted to spend his life with. He would do anything it took to keep you happy. Madara sauntered up to you, the crowd parting before him. Your eyes met. The power behind his stare was like he had you hypnotized with his gaze, but that was of course impossible. Your heart filled with warmth at the sight of him. Others may not see him for who he truly was, but for you, loving Madara was as natural as breathing.
His next words would forever etch themselves into your soul.
"Dance with me."
~End~
---------------
Notes:
I am incredibly proud of myself for finishing this story! First fanfic I’ve written in well over a decade! I hope you found the ending believable and satisfactory. The premise of this story was simple from the beginning. One theme I wanted to highlight in this story was good relationships where the partners do not communicate their love the same way and the difficulties that can arise. When you were with Madara, whether that was cooking for him and lavishing him with attention, or spending quality time together, that was when he felt your affection most. Whereas for her, those things were important, but she was indeed feeling inferior with this man who was larger than life. She also needed the words to confirm Madara’s feelings at a time when she was ready for the conversation. As we know, Madara is more a man of action than words, until he is pushed to speak his deepest thoughts.
While there are many unhealthy relationships with glaring red flags that should be promptly cut off and discarded, I sincerely believe there are many people too willing to hastily throw away what they have before even attempting to fix what’s there. Getting into a relationship isn’t the destination, but only the beginning. Maintaining the relationship is the difficult journey requiring hard work from both sides and an ongoing process. “Journey before Destination,” my friends.
Yes Madara can be so petty (and a STUBBORN hypocrite) until his heart told him he couldn’t stay away any longer. His cold shoulder backfired hard on him 😆
Writing Madara in his different moods (the spectrum ranging from romantic, to awkward, silly, angry, frustrated, regretful, horny, and completely, utterly elated and in love) was challenging and I hope I did him justice. The goal was to have him still behave like Madara even when he was feeling fluffier.
I hope you enjoyed the journey between Madara and his nurse over the course of these past weeks! What a great month I had bringing them to life! 💖
*The lyrics at the end of the fic is of course from the legendary song “Sway.” The version in my mind is sung by Michael Buble.
I've been searching for this story for MONTHS!!
come the rain
domini album
#6 Madara Uchiha
summary: in which, with rain comes truth.
word count: 6,197
a/n: i...i honestly can't bring myself to apologize for the length of this one / inspired by the bottom-center concept of madara in this drawing
warnings: izuna being a little shit (how many times have i used this warning now??); indirect mention of d*nzo; partial nudity (madara)
Izuna wasn’t at the Head Household like he said he would be, which, in itself, wouldn’t have been all that irritating if it weren’t for the fact that you’d inconsequentially let yourself into a home where not you best friend was, but his older brother, of whom you were now caught in an unexpected stare down with from the entry hall.
You awkwardly cleared your throat, “Madara-sama.”
You weren’t unfamiliar with Izuna’s brother, and there’d been plenty of times you’d found yourself in conversation with him before, but it was always strained and tedious to navigate – more difficult to participate in than even conversations with Tobirama, the man of few words that he was – though you were never sure if it was on your part or his.
Probably yours.
Since the signing of peace and the foundation of Konohagakure, the Uchiha Clan had become less of a constant threat to your Senju-aligned clan, and you’d become friends with Izuna over many months of mutual exasperation over the meetings you were trapped in as your clans’ heirs, and your complainings had eventually sparked a debate that turned into a spar that had left you both laying on your backs on one of the training grounds, laughing breathlessly at his singed hair and your burnt clothes. Comradery had come easily after that, and Hashirama had taken to putting you on mission and patrol teams together which had only strengthened your friendship over the last two and a half years since the village’s founding.
Madara tilted his head slightly, regarding you from where he sat on a zabuton at the end of the chabudai. The shoji doors of the porch were opened, inviting the chill of the morning into the house, and you could see the greenery of the central garden beyond the deck, leaves gleaming in the overcast rain.
“Do you make it a habit of letting yourself in to other people’s houses?” Madara drawled, finally relaxing the hand he’d had suspended, chopsticks pinched between his fingers, and you realized that he was eating his breakfast, the smell of steamed rice and fish reaching you from across the room.
You were still holding onto the latch of the door, and your fingers fumbled to pull it open again. “Ah – my apologies, Madara-sama. Izuna said he would be here, but he’s not, so I’ll just –”
Madara let out a short huff and waved his hand lackadaisically, chopsticks swimming in the air with the gesture. “You’re inside already – there’s no use in waiting outside in the rain.”
You paused, the door partially pulled open, unsure that you’d heard the Clan Leader correctly.
You glanced back at him, and felt your face warm when you met his eyes again, one of his eyebrows raised expectantly. Damn it, Izuna.
Slowly, you shut the door and tugged off your boots, leaving them alongside the spot where Izuna’s were supposed to be as you silently crossed through the opened sitting area to the dining room Madara was in. You hesitantly lowered yourself onto the nearest zabuton at the square table, folding your hands in your lap as you forced yourself to sit comfortably.
Madara’s chopsticks clicked against his plate.
“You can help yourself,” he said, gesturing with his chin toward the place setting that was no doubt meant for Izuna, but was – for obvious reasons – left untouched.
“Ah, thank you, Madara-sama,” you replied, cringing inwardly as you added, “but I ate at home already.”
You could feel his gaze on the side of your face as you made faux purpose in tugging loose the fabric of your pants bunched around your knee. Kami, you could punch Izuna in his aristocrat nose for subjecting you to this awkwardness with his brother, before eight in the morning no less.
“What plans did you and my brother have this morning?” Madara asked after a moment.
You glanced up at him again, and then suddenly realized that while you were wearing in the becoming-standard jōnin uniform, Madara was dressed only in a loosely tied navy blue yukata that hung open around his torso, one sleeve nearly slipping off of his shoulder and showing the edge of raised scar tissue along his collarbone.
You felt your face heat instantaneously and you furtively looked away, locking your sights on one of the leafy ferns in the garden in front of you as you tried to force the image of the man next to you from your mind.
He was hardly dressed, and you’d barged into his house, and Kami – his chest; there had to be a god or two out there laughing at you right now, because there wasn’t a version of reality you could imagine Izuna not cracking up if he found out about this.
“We were going to visit the weapons shops in the Eastern Sector,” you answered, keeping your gaze in the garden. “Tobirama mentioned yesterday that a new merchant was approved to sell in the market, and we were going evaluate his quality.”
Madara released a quiet hum. “I doubt Tobirama would let anyone sell in the weapons market if their wares didn’t meet the regulation standard.”
His stare was still on the side of your face.
“Call it curiosity, Madara-sama,” you said, tapping the hilt of one of your own kunai strapped in its brace around your thigh. “Izuna needs to replace his shuriken stock since our last mission anyway.”
Madara snorted. “I hope he told you that at a distance from the compound, should any of the ninbyō overhear him and tell Nekobaa he intends to buy from another weapons dealer.”
You smiled, remembering a particular story Izuna had told you months ago when you’d gotten him decidedly drunk from shōchū and he’d told you about the childish fears that had plagued him for years on end about the Uchiha Clan’s infamous munitions keepers in Sora-ku. Apparently he’d done one ninbyō wrong in stepping on her paw and it was only the pact between their groups that kept the feline’s claws out of his eyes; didn’t save the rest of his face, however, which explained the thin scar that cut a line from the edge of his left eye. For over a decade you’d thought it was a mark left on him by Tobirama, but you’d been hysterical to find out it was from a cat, of all things.
“I think he’d plant a garden of catnip to appease your Nekobaa if it meant keeping the ninbyō away from his face,” you chuckled, glancing toward Madara again before you could think better of it. The sight of his smile caught you off guard, his lips pulling into the swell of his cheek as he shook his head slightly as he lifted rice to his mouth. The expression was uninhibited by any level of decorum that you usually saw him with in clan meetings and events, and it was different from the smiles he shared with both Izuna and Hashirama; it looked private, a glimpse behind the outward projection of Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan that you knew and just Madara Uchiha, a man who ate fish and rice for breakfast. And somehow, conversation with this Madara was easier than any other conversation you’d had with him before.
“Ah, he told you the story of his abuse of poor Mimiko?” Madara asked, amusement clear in his voice as he ate his rice.
“‘His abuse of poor Mimiko’?” you parroted, giving a short laugh. “Izuna is the one still scared of cats to this day – isn’t he the abused one?”
Madara smiled that same, private smile. “He hasn’t stepped on any paws since then, has he?”
“No,” you laughed again, and shook your head, “I guess he hasn’t.”
Madara gave a soft hum of agreement and then silence blanketed the conversation, leaving you in another limbo. Madara had finished his rice and had picked up a cup of tea, propping his other elbow on his raised knee as he rested his head against the heel of his palm and stared out at the gentle downpour over the garden. The shift in his positioning had opened his yukata further and you snapped your eyes away before you followed the line of a newly revealed, particularly thick-looking scar that spanned down his chest into the folds of his robe, if only to keep your face from heating again the longer you stared unsolicited at him, and glanced at the opened Uchiha Main House.
You’d been in the house a dozen times at least over the years, but you’d never seen it opened up like this during the rainy season, especially when you knew Izuna hated how the smell of wet soil seemed to never leave his clothes no matter how often he washed them. Come to think of it, Izuna didn’t even like the rain – he’d blamed his Uchiha blood and said that no one in a clan with a predominant fire affinity liked the rain, but the way that Madara stared out at the rain made you wonder if Izuna had spoken too generally.
Your eyes trailed back to him, and you were careful to keep your gaze on his face as you studied him.
There was a difference in him now than from what you were usually familiar with. When you’d first met Madara, he was still jagged around the edges from the stress of the war and the stretch of his already thin patience it took to garner in peace with Hashirama while fending off his Elder Council with their combative conversative politics and traditions. Izuna was hardly any help, you knew, since he took to taunting Tobirama into arguments – “A passive aggressive way in which to get revenge,” he’d explained after showing you the scar that should’ve been a death blow over his heart from the other heir’s ninjatō – that you had the pleasure of interjecting upon by request of Hashirama and thus spurring the argument between you and Izuna that had spawned your friendship.
The man sitting beside you now held none of that tension in his shoulders, and there was a feeling of…serenity that seemed rest around him as you continued to watch him stare into the rain, dōjutsu disarmed and none of his usual weapons adorning his body at all. To anyone who didn’t know him, Madara could have been a handsome stranger, a man who was mysterious by the presence of his scars, but could be anyone or no one at all. A part of you had always wondered if he had wanted to be Madara Uchiha, Leader of the Uchiha Clan, or if he’d only accepted the role as it had fallen into his lap with the death of his older brother – another story from another time when the shōchū brought out Izuna’s darker nightmares instead of his laugher. Who might Madara have been then, if not the man he was now?
A rice farmer, Izuna had jested, but a really shitty one.
A cool breeze swept into the house, making you shiver slightly.
You glanced away from Madara’s face and toward the open shogi doors. “Aren’t you cold, Madara-sama?”
Madara looked at you, and then shrugged slightly. “Uchiha run hotter than other shinobi,” he replied.
Yeah, no kidding, you nearly muttered aloud, acutely aware of his opened yukata and the attractive tilt of his head as he regarded you, but bit into the flesh of your cheek to stop the words from taking shape.
Instead, you nodded, and asked, “Madara-sama, do you know when Izuna is supposed to come back?”
You glanced at the Clan Leader and tensed when you found yourself meeting his eyes full on for the first time since initially coming into the house. You could see it when he squinted slightly at you.
“Why do you use the honorific?” he asked, but it took you a moment to process his words. You’d obviously made eye contact with him before – it was impossible to not at times, when the whole world seemed to gravitate toward him, you yourself locked him his orbit whether he knew it or not – but this was not the version of him that you were familiar with; there were no pretenses in his expressions as spoke to you.
You swallowed. “I-I’m sorry?”
Madara tilted his head again slightly, a section of his hair falling off of his shoulder and showing more of his chest. “You address me with the honorific, but not when you talk to my brother, Hashirama, Tobirama, or the other clan heirs,” he explained. “We’ve known each other for just as long, have we not?”
Your brow furrowed as he spoke. You had always addressed him with the honorific of his title, even though you’d been friends with his brother for years now, and even familiar with most members of his clan. It’d never really been intentional, not until you realized that calling him by his name alone meant more to you than just being his friend. “I – yes,” you said, struggling to find a proper response. “It’s just – you’re a clan leader,” you tried, and then immediately winced at your own words. Hashirama was just as much a clan leader as Madara was, and you’d gotten away with calling him ‘Hashi’ by accident before while you’d been in a hurry.
One of Madara’s dark eyebrow rose again as he watched you try to parse out an answer.
“But it’s your name,” you tried, and chewed your lip at his blank look. You rubbed your temple. “We’ve never really spoken, Madara-sama, like I have with Izuna, or Hashirama and Tobirama, and the others,” you clarified. “It’s different from them.”
“We’ve spoken many times before,” he replied, dropping his knee, and crossing his arms over his chest. “How is it any different?”
You wondered where you’d found the shovel that you were currently digging your hole deeper with.
You chewed the inside of your cheek. “You’re not them,” you said, and watched Madara angle his chin. “I mean – that’s obvious, but I mean, you’re different. It’s just –” You blew an exasperated breath as his expression became more guarded, that ease he’d had slipping away with every word you spoke.
“You’re not like this, out there,” you blurted out, gesturing toward his sitting figure. Kami, you were glad the Uchiha didn’t have the same hearing abilities that the Inuzuka and Hatake did, else he’d no doubt hear your heart hammering against your ribcage. “This is different from when you’re out there, with them,” you kept talking. “You’re quieter, and…softer, I guess. It’s different, and not bad, at all,” you added, gauging the narrowing of his eyes again. Izuna would be rolling on the floor if he were here to witness this. “You’re just Madara right now,” you rubbed the side of your neck, ignoring the heat there, “not Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord. Just…Madara.”
A long moment of silence hung between the two of you, only the sound of the gentle downpour on the roof and in the garden to fill the air with a level of noise until Madara cleared his throat and his expression lost some of its hardness.
“Just Madara,” he said slowly, and then you felt the energy of the room shift as his dōjutsu activated suddenly, red bleeding through the hickory brown of his irises. The instinct to avert your eyes gripped you, but…you could feel the weight of his stare and there was something significant in it as you stared into the interlocking black tomoe. “Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord – how is he different from ‘Just Madara’?”
There was something incredibly beautiful about the Sharingan in a way that nothing else you had ever seen in your life compared. The dōjutsu was a weapon just as much as it was simply just another tool, and you’d seen plenty of patterns over the years you’d spent living alongside the Uchiha, but none of their eyes were quite as enthralling as their clan leader’s.
“Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord would rather me not drop the honorific,” you finally replied as you stared back at his kekkei genkai. Your heartbeat was thundering in your chest. “And he’d want me to be intimidated by his dōjutsu.”
Madara grunted. “And you think ‘Just Madara’ doesn’t want you to be as well?”
“I think if you wanted me to be intimidated, you would’ve put me in a genjutsu,” you answered evenly. His gaze narrowed again, and then you watched as he leaned onto the table, propping his cheek against his knuckles and exposing more of his chest to you. It was yet another effort to keep your eyes on his face and ignore just how much of him you could see around his robe.
“What if I’ve had you in a genjutsu since you entered the house and first looked at me?” he questioned, still staring at you. The intensity of his gaze was unwavering, but there was something different in the way that he gave you his undivided attention versus how you’d seen him trap other members of the leader council with his stare – there was no true intimidation in his eyes. “What if this ‘Just Madara’ lives only in a fictitious image I created?”
“You’d have to find inspiration for ‘Just Madara’ from somewhere then,” you replied easily, ignoring the urge in your gut to look away from him. By no means were you afraid of him, but he did slightly intimidate you at times, though for reasons unrelated to his rank or kekkei genkai. “And you don’t have a reason to put me in a genjutsu.”
“You broke into my home,” he replied.
You raised an eyebrow. “The door was unlocked and Izuna told me just come in last night when we’d made the plans.”
A short silence rose, punctuated by a distant roll of thunder, and then Madara spoke again.
“You’re not afraid at all of my Sharingan, are you?” he asked.
You frowned slightly. You’d never held his eye contact for this long before, especially not while his Sharingan were activated, but you could read no threat in his expression, only feel the weight of some unspoken significance between you.
“I’m not afraid of the man they belong to,” you softly corrected him.
Both of Madara’s eyebrows rose and his head righted just slightly. “You’re not afraid of me?”
You loosed a breathy laugh. “If I was ever your enemy again, then I very much would be, because now I know the man beyond Mangekyō no Madara, the Uchiha Warlord, and…” you chewed your lip again, “and I wouldn’t want to have to fight him.”
Madara’s gaze shifted over your face, tracing over your eyes, then down the side of your cheek, across mouth and then up over your nose and back to your eyes again, like he was memorizing face.
“I wouldn’t want to fight you either,” he finally replied.
You chuckled. “I’d be like a warm-up, and you’d kill me within ten minutes – we’re on two different levels of abilities.”
He lowered his propped arm so that his arms crossed on the table, and the way that he stared at you sobered the lighthearted humor in you.
“I wouldn’t raise a hand nor weapon against you,” he said.
You blinked, momentarily blindsided by the raw honesty in his voice.
“I suppose that makes sense, since we’re comrades now,” you said slowly, heartbeat somehow sluggish now in your chest.
Madara tilted his head at you. “Among other things.”
“‘Among other things’?” You parroted, your brow furrowing as you sat upright.
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?”
Your lips parted and you glanced at his chest again despite your better judgement, and then jerked your line of sight away, toward the wall, though you could see the smirk on Madara’s face in your periphery.
“Hashirama?” you offered weakly, staring pointedly at the garden again.
He gave you a flat look. “Exempting the deified tree idiot from you and Izuna.”
You and Izuna.
If there was one thing that you knew foremost before any other thing about Madara Uchiha it was that his most treasured possession was his love for his brother, followed closely by his friendship with Hashirama and the responsibility he took seriously as the leader of his clan. Three pillars of his personality that you’d come to be familiar with very early on once coming to the village that had provided the foundation for the understanding of him.
He’d said, you and Izuna – what did that mean?
Your gaze slid back to him again.
“So, you’d of put more clothes on if I wasn’t the one breaking in, then?” you asked, trying to joke but lacking the tease in your voice.
One of Madara’s eyebrows rose. “With the way you’ve been stealing looks at me all morning, I thought you quite liked seeing me in little clothing.”
Your eyes widened and you felt your face burn as you ducked your head. This man – when had he become so…so–
Kami – this was not how you expected your morning to go.
“I –”
You shut your mouth as soon as you noticed the smile on Madara’s face, amusement clear in his expression. Yet another expression that you weren’t accustomed to, not without the standard pretense of him fulfilling some kind of social expectation of himself in meetings and village celebrations – and you liked it. That air of serenity seemed to only thicken around him as he smiled at you, his eyebrow rising again when you both realized you were staring at him.
Awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t looking at your chest,” you lied, “I – um…” Madara rested his chin against his knuckles again, expression expectant. You faltered, indignant. “You’re enjoying this.”
Tobirama had always compared the Uchiha to cats, but you couldn’t help but find more similarities between Madara and a tanuki right now.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Madara replied, the lilt of his tone making it clear that he knew exactly what it was you were talking about.
You cut the clan leader a look. “Madara-sama, has anyone ever told you before that you’re terribly overconfident?”
You saw him try to suppress a smirk before he replied, “Now, now, (Y/N), don’t you think if you’re going to insult me, you should at least drop the honorific so I know you’re only teasing?”
You bit into your cheek to stop yourself from smiling back at him as you said, “It’s not teasing if it’s true, Madara-sama.”
He raised his eyebrow again. “So you are trying to insult a clan leader, (Y/N)?” he asked, shifting his knuckles over his mouth in a weak attempt to hide his smirk.
You sniffed. “It’s said that the truth sometimes hurts, Madara-sama.”
He chuckled. “You know, I could order you to not address me with that honorific.”
You gave him another look. “I don’t have to listen to your orders, Madara-sama – you’re not the jōnin commander nor am I an Uchiha.”
He regarded you for a moment. “But I could make you one.”
You felt the blood drain from your face and your lips parted in shock –
Madara snorted and laughed at your expense, shaking his head. “That was teasing, (Y/N),” he chuckled.
Like a whiplash, your felt your face heat from sickening embarrassment, and you looked away from him, having to grit your teeth in the attempt to not scowl. Something in you felt wounded and annoyed with your own self for having fallen so easily into bantering with him that you’d entertained the idea of his teasing as being more than just that.
He was still chuckling at your reaction when you cleared your throat and made to stand.
“Since your brother isn’t here,” you spoke neutrally, “I’ll be leaving now, Uchiha-sama.” You saw his brow furrow in your periphery, but you ignored his expression as you unfolded your legs and shifted your balance.
“Eager to have Izuna make you an Uchiha then?” Madara asked as you began to cross the sitting room, back toward the door. You scoffed quietly at his question, irritation not only with yourself and your own foolishness growing, but also toward him, for pressing the wound.
You muttered under your breath and reached for your boots, but your hand was blocked in the same breath that Madara appeared in front of you, a surge of chakra from his shunshin the only warning you’d had to retract your arm.
“What did you say?” he questioned, tone flat and not unlike the voice he took in council meetings.
“Nothing, Uchiha-sama,” you said, making to move around him, but he blocked your path again with his body, making you bite your tongue to keep from forgoing your boots entirely and shunshinning onto the path outside the Uchiha Compound.
“Why are you calling me that?” he demanded, blocking you again when you tried to go around his left.
You clenched your jaw. “I’m not calling you anything, Uchiha-sama.”
The muscle in his jaw feathered, a telltale sign of his short patience. “I told you to drop the honorific, not tack on formalities.”
You let your eyes meet his again, trying to keep your expression flat and combined embarrassment and irritation concealed. “You’re a clan leader, Uchiha-sama,” you replied in a mechanical voice. “I shouldn’t insult you with less.”
His Sharingan gaze narrowed, not quite pinning you to the spot but making you wholly aware of him and just how close he stood to you, hardly more than an arm’s length between your chests.
“What did you say when you turned your back to me?” he demanded again.
“It’s of little importance, Uchiha-sama,” you answered, stare unwavering.
You went to step around him again, but his hand lashed and caught your wrist, making you instaneously stiffen.
“You are afraid of me,” Madara said, grip firm as he glanced between your rigid arm and your face.
You suddenly wanted, for all the world, Izuna to come back from wherever he’d gone, if only to rescue you from this conversation.
“Not for the reasons you think, Uchiha-sama,” you answered sharply, staring ahead at the door until Madara yanked you closer to him, filling your line of sight with his face.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the sudden proximity, but he didn’t grant you the opportunity to react before he asked again, “What did you say when you turned your back to me?”
This close to his face, you could see each of the long lashes that framed his Sharingan eyes, and the light smattering of tiny scars near his temple. This close, and the world narrowed down to a singular point in the shape of him as he filled your senses, drowning out the rain, the house, and all else. Your orbit finally brought you to the star itself.
You exhaled a slow breath through your nose and then let the tension bleed from your shoulders, out of your arms, and held his gaze as you replied, just loud enough to be heard, “I said, ‘Wrong brother.’”
Silence crept in through the house again as you stared at each other, his grip unwavering on your wrist that he’d tucked into his chest when he’d pulled you into him. Your hand was curled into a fist, but you could feel the warmth of his skin against your closed fingers, and beyond that –
His heart was racing.
The realization made your eyes drop from his to his chest, your brows pulling together as his fingers seemed to curl tighter around your wrist before they relaxed and his grip spread over your hand, pushing your palm flat over his chest, your fingers beneath the fabric of his robe.
“Why do you say my name with the honorific?” Madara asked again, his fingers slotted over yours, the scars on your knuckles making disjointed patterns with his.
You blinked, looking back up at him. “Because it means something else to me without it.”
He never looked away from you, not as he raised his other hand to the side of your face, touching his fingertips to your cheek.
“Say my name,” he said softly.
Your brow furrowed, just slightly, as his thumb touched the edge of your mouth, and you spoke softly, “Madara.”
You felt his heartbeat fasten beneath your hand, and then yours might as well of matched it when he slid his thumb beneath your chin and raised your face, and then –
Madara was kissing you.
You sucked in a sharp breath, but shock hardly lasted more than a moment as he slanted his mouth against yours, cradling your face with both his hands as your hands found a grip on his robe. Over and over, he kissed you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before one of your hands climbed up to his neck, fingers carding through the dark hair at his nape, and a soft noise like a grunt left him as he shifted closer to you. His kisses were consuming, all-encompassing and this was gravity, you realized, the effect of coming too close to a star and meeting it in a collision, the inevitable destruction of what was once two separate things and the formation of something else – something new and created in the combination of debris. This was a calamity, and you welcomed it, fully and completely, giving entirely into the forces that predetermined this gravitational impact.
A sharp whistle suddenly sounded from the central garden, and you sprang back from Madara as Izuna leapt down from one of the red maple trees onto the porch with all his usual flourish, damp from the rain but smirking all the same. “I must say, there’s nothing seeing my beloved brother finally kissing my dear friend to make my morning more interesting.”
You blinked as Madara scowled, one of your hands now tangled with his, though he stood slightly behind you.
“‘Finally?’” you questioned.
“Oh yes – finally,” Izuna snorted.
“Always purposeful with your timing, aren’t you, otōto?” Madara drawled, languidly. His posture had changed, but you could see a flush of pink over his face and neck, unconcealed by his tone.
Izuna made a show of sitting down on the porch and yanking off his boots, the smirk never leaving his face as he did so.
“Of course, aniki – I couldn’t risk leaving you unattended for very long, you know,” he replied airily. “Who knows what you two would’ve gotten up to if I hadn’t come back from that random errand you sent me on when I did.”
You cocked your head suspiciously at Madara. “You sent Izuna on an errand this morning?”
Izuna called from the porch, “Only after he found out you were supposed to be meeting me here.”
“Izuna,” Madara warned.
Izuna, the only heir to the mighty Uchiha Clan, stuck his tongue out at his brother as he crossed the room in bare feet. “Now that you’ve gotten a few good kisses in on my best friend, I think it’s fair time to embarrass you thoroughly.” He came up next to you, propping his arm on your shoulder as he asked you, “Don’t you think?”
“Izuna, I will demote you,” Madara warned again, glare cutting.
Izuna brightened, “Oh! I’m to be an uncle already?”
You jammed your elbow into Izuna’s ribs with little thought, cheeks burning with heat as you glared at your best friend and wholly ignored Madara’s startled expression.
“Traitor,” Izuna wheezed, holding his side with one hand and bending over with his opposite hand on your shoulder for balance.
“Me a traitor?” you demanded, rounding on the younger Uchiha. “You – you –!” You couldn’t stop the breath of laughter that escaped you, cutting off your tirade. You could see Madara smiling at you in his periphery, amusement clear on his face along with something like relief. “You’re impossible, Izuna,” you finally said, shaking your head.
“You’re the one kissing my brother!” Izuna puffed back, throwing his hand out at Madara, who had crossed his arms over his chest and raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the heir. “And here I thought one morning of your sheer awkwardness and his hate of being interrupted over breakfast would cancel out and I’d finally be relieved of hearing the blind pining you two do after each other constantly!”
Your face felt like it was burning – blind pining you two do after each other constantly.
Madara made faux work of picking at his index finger with his thumb, giving Izuna a look out of the corner of his eye. “You forget that I invite (Y/N)’s company whenever possible, otōto.”
And wasn’t that true – how many gatherings and meetings had you attended over the years where you eventually found yourself somehow at Madara’s side? You’d lost count. And now this morning, where he’d invited you to sit at the table with him, despite the early hour and him being hardly dressed.
Do you think I’d let just anyone see me in my nightclothes?
“Oh, excuse me, aniki,” Izuna rolled his eyes, a smirk growing along his lips, “I must’ve forgotten sometime between last year and this morning.”
You blinked. “Last year?”
“Oh, this obsession with you didn’t happen overnight, (Y/N)-chan,” Izuna cooed, and absolutely grinning at Madara’s scathing glare and your shocked expression. “My dear aniki decided to fall in love with you the moment you verbally filleted that Shimura heir over the dinner at Midsummer last year. What was it you said, Madara? Something like –”
“Izuna, I will banish you from the compound,” Madara ground out, wholly ignoring your widening eyes.
Fall in love?
It was only propriety that kept your jaw from dropping – Madara was in love with you?
Izuna waved him off, continuing, “You said, ‘She’s going to be my wife.’” A lick of flame darted towards Izuna’s pants, but he leapt back, snickering as he did. “Aniki! No need to get so heated! Save that for your future wife!”
“Izuna!” Madara shouted, while you bit down on your bottom lip, face hot and trying to not laugh as Izuna darted away.
“I’m going – I’m going! I can see that you need privacy!” he snickered, winking at you as he dodged another well-aimed katon jutsu spiraling for his face and then vanished into one of the hallways of the house.
A beat of silence, and then you couldn’t help the small laugh that left you. Madara’s attention immediately snapped back toward you, and he was still scowling, but when you laughed again, he gauged your expression with a guarded look.
“Somehow, I don’t think you planned on telling me this morning that you wanted to marry me,” you said neutrally, though still internally reeling from what Izuna had said.
She’s going to be my wife.
That was not just a simple thing to say, especially from a clan leader.
Madara crossed his arms over his chest, still looking irritated, though you knew it was more or less directed toward his brother. “No, not this morning,” he replied, jaw clenching like he was reluctant to give up more of his intentions than he’d expected to.
You stepped closer to him, watching him watch you back, Sharingan eyes fixed on your face. His arms slackened as you came close enough to touch a hand to the side of his face, as bold as you dared, and you felt his hands settle lightly over your hips. You leaned into him, holding again to the front of his robe with one hand as the other hand slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck, bringing his face closer to yours as you struggled to not outright grin at him, though his eyes flicked between your smile and your eyes. At your waist, his fingers tightened their grip, his focus never once leaving you as he tilted his head, and you whispered against his lips, “Tell me you love me this morning then.”
This close, you could see your reddened reflection in his Sharingan, and saw the last of his irritation toward his brother melt away as he raised a hand to your face, brushing his fingers over your cheek.
“I love you,” he said, hardly more than a breath against your lips.
You smiled, heart racing, and pressed your forehead against his. “I love you too.”
He pressed his lips to yours again, and you could feel him smiling even as he kissed you, one of his hands sliding to the small of your back and pulling you closer as the other one folded itself over yours on his chest. Again, he became the center of everything, all else fading as you lost yourself in him.
Though, you startled when Izuna suddenly shouted through the house, “I would like a niece to spoil first!”
None of Madara’s kisses could silence the laughter that burst from you.
leave a comment?
TAGLIST:
@queer-naruto @cosmins @mad-girl-without-a-box @mykuronekome @kakashi-with-the-good-hair @shoyo-baby-sunflower @sup-zfam @tired-ninfa @bluehimeonigiri @mrmountainman @dramaticq @apricitobio @mercymccann @aaubin
I'm a sucker for a loving Madara
OR SO YOU THOUGHT
Madara x reader
WARNINGS: nsfw, smut, 18+, ansgty emotional sex, parts of canon
a/n: a lot of authors and their works inspired this fic and im listing all of them here. make sure you check them out:
'Fragments' by @persephones-darkness'
Demons' by @kuramakakashi
'First heartbreak' by @thelovehashira143
'Map to hope' by @madarasthicc
Song- 'Again' by Noah Cyrus and xxxtentacion
Armor.
Headband.
Anxious hands hurried to discard clothes.
Gripping, tugging flesh and hair, desperate for each other. No words were said as urgency took the reins, leading both of you to your bed, holding onto each other anyway possible- sheer adrenaline and raw emotions drowning question and reason; his hands cupping and pinching the swell of your breasts, you arched into his touch dangerously.
There's nothing left for me here anymore.
The words he said minutes prior rang in your ears. Silence hung heavy in the air before the atmosphere crackled and you were on each other. You kissed him harder and with more fervour, trying to push away those thoughts. He reciprocated- his chafed hands picked you up before hurling you on the mattress, the sickly sweet moonlight blanching your supple naked body.
Madara wasted no moment in pouncing over you, his slacks thrown into the recesses of your room- a room bearing testimony to many such erotic nights, but not quite like this...no, not the same way, never the same way, The fear, agony, desperation intermingled with such irrepressible need for each other, twisted to mad, selfish hunger.
Hickeys that cracked your skin and drew blood in an attempt to mark you forever bloomed on your bosom. Madara stood up, rethinking his choices and decisions, doubt, pain and something akin to love lined his face- a deadly expression that could have made you crumble had you looked at it for a few seconds more. You pulled him back to you, back to where he belonged, or so you thought. He surrendered to your touch in total abandonment as you got on top of him, straddling his waist, his eyes dead and distant. So, you attached your lips to his again, hoping to reach the pits of his heart that had dark tar swirling in its depths. He seemingly came back to you as his hands found refuge on the softs of your thighs as he helped you ease himself into you. Throwing your head back, you let out a broken whimper of his name, prompting him to thrust all the way in while holding you down. His hands guide you to a rhythm as you hunch over his laid out frame, closing any distance, his hands knotted into your tresses, pulling harshly.
"Y/n...I can't..."
You hardly heard him with his staff splitting you in half, neither could you care any less- your peaks reaching a ceremonious high, breaths ragged, sweat beading on your back.
"God, I love you Y/n..." he rasped as his pace faltered.
"Tell me again."
"What?"
"Tell me that you love me again Madara!"
You scream-cried while sitting up to look directly at him, your eyes piercing his soul.
"I...love you...FUCK Y/n".
Again.
And again.
And again.
Madara chanted those words while drilling himself into you and ending in a explosive release that left you both shaking.
You rested your spent body over his and touched foreheads, sobbing from the mind-breaking high and also, hoping that this was enough for him to stay, that you were enough for him to stay.
.
.
.
Golden morning hues rolled in making you realize you'd fallen asleep. A smile tugged at your corners as memories of hot, writhing bodies and Madara's confessions of love eased into your mind.
"Good morning Mada-"
You turned around to search for his doting eyes but were met with a cold empty bed and a scratched headband-his headband- placed in front of a picture of when he kissed you for the first time.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
tags- @madarasthicc @mrsbakashi
reblogs and interactions are appreciated
That's how I imagine you after you type “to be continued” and click “Post” on your Madara fanfics
Bahahaha! Never would I have thought I'd be compared to LELOUCH!!! How flattering! Maybe there's a bit of a resemblance there Margrete 😘. *laughs in Lelouch*
Twin Flames- Chapter Four
“You still don’t seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine.”
“Sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader
For my biggest fan @margretesonigiri. I hope you like this chapter! Happy Birthday Izuna, Obito! 🥳🤗 On AO3
Warnings: Romance, flirting, angst, drama, hurt/comfort Words: 4515
Examining yourself in the mirror from every angle, even you had to admit you looked impeccable.
You decided to go pro with your hair and makeup tonight. You wanted to look good for this party. You wanted to look amazing for Madara. A subtle glimmer veiled the eyeshadow, accentuating the shape of your eyes framed by long lashes. Slight contouring brought out the definition on your features, a peachy blush you suspected you won’t need once you saw Madara kissing the apples of your cheeks. Most of your hair was pinned back in an elaborate display of curls and ribbon, with wisps of loosely curled strands coming down the sides of your head ending past the shoulders. It wasn’t like you didn’t recognize yourself, but it was rather unusual for you to spend such time and effort on your appearances. The end result was worth it for this event.
Madara arrived to pick you up tonight at your door, a black SUV with his chauffeur attending downstairs.
Madara regarded you in appreciation. You looked better than good. You were hot, touched by a hint of innocence. The curled strands falling down to frame the sides of your face made you look as if you’d just gotten out of bed, but it was sexy and tasteful. It wasn’t too coiffed and artificial. He couldn’t get enough of the sight of you.
“It seems I haven’t invited you to enough of these events. You look stunning Y/N,” Madara rasped, continuing to appraise everything about you and continuing to discover more to behold. Your gorgeous face, the hair, your dress, the nails. You wore the ruby and gold necklace he gifted you. He meticulously eyed the designs on your legs. Like the first date, he picked up your hand to kiss the back. This time, you didn’t go brain dead. You stepped close, brushing your fingers down his chest and claiming his lips briefly. Madara’s presence went to your crotch. She stirred, as if waking from slumber for the first time in too long. It may have been freezing outside, but neither of you were going to feel it.
“As do you.” He donned a tuxedo for tonight. It had to be tailored for him, the cut hugging his hips and chest, the image of perfection. He was the picture of a sophisticated gentleman, one who exuded a mysterious charm and held an edge of danger. Such resemblance to the knives and swords he created. He was extraordinarily handsome and you couldn’t believe he was your date for the night.
You smiled shyly, allowing him the pleasure of leading you to his vehicle while he gallantly offered his arm.
The privacy display was activated, shielding the driver from whatever the occupants behind did. Madara popped open a bottle of champagne and offered a bubbly chute. “For you.”
You accepted the glass, thanking him for inviting you tonight. “It’s my honour to have you with me,” he replied smoothly. The seats were soft, a burgundy leather. Patterned wood trim framed multiple surfaces in the passengers’ area. Jazz filled this space, the brass instruments setting up a classy ambient atmosphere for the ride.
Gasping, your eyes were trained frantically in the direction of the driver as Madara slid up to you, not touching, but close enough to feel his breath and body heat. He closed the distance between you, a hand sneaking under your knee-length coat and coming to rest on your thigh.
“He can’t hear or see us.” When you didn’t resist, fingers skimmed the surface of your sheer floral-patterned pantyhose, coming inches up your legs until he halted at a location that was still safe enough to be considered somewhat decent. His face was close, discerning gaze carefully watching your expression, as if he was waiting for permission.
Frozen, your mind flew through what was happening. This was Madara who was touching you. You opened your legs a fraction, but that was all he needed. His hand traveled more as he tilted his head before he once again took your lips. Madara was patient and gentle, his touch remaining light. He didn’t grab your crotch like he yearned to. Instead, he stayed tantalizingly at the junction between groin and inner thigh to pet the spot, while his other arm went around your back to pull you slightly towards him.
You didn’t stop him from doing more. From the onset, you were never against a physical relationship with Madara, although your preference was to become more familiar before engaging in such acts. You didn’t realize you were clutching his quads.
“I told you I will wait for you,” he whispered against your temple, pulling his limbs back to himself.
You licked your lips, cursing when you realized you ate some of the lip gloss.
---------------
Stepping foot inside the venue, you looked around in wonder as you entered with Madara. The opulence was astounding. The foyer was incredibly grand, covered in gold-veined marble floors, intricately carved stone statues artistically lining the walls, the ceilings were so high you could barely make out the details at the top. It was like you went back in time to a historical ball. The men were dapper, the women garbed in sumptuous ball gowns and jewels.
You could swear it got quieter as you and Madara arrived. What an attractive pair you made. People were staring. Though Madara was clearly the one who brought you, the one who was personally invited to a gathering of this class, you were the one who attracted these strangers’ attention. Numerous men, some elegant, some appearing haughtier than others, evaluated your appearance and presence, seemingly pleased by what met the eyes. Several greeted Madara and you in polite acquaintance.
It was the women who made you self-conscious. Some studied you in a peculiar way, their shrewd judgment making you squirm in discomfort. You couldn’t discern what they said to each other or their partners, but that didn’t matter.
"Keep your chin up. These people are no better than you." Madara commented flatly, leading you through the palatial grounds. You and Madara exchanged more cordial greetings with multiple other guests before you were led to your seats. A busser nodded at you and Madara in respect, “My lady, what would you like to drink?” You requested scotch. You knew you needed social lubricant again to survive this night. You plucked some hor d’oeuvres from servers circulating around the hall with trays of appetizers.
Madara chuckled, “Already starting with the strong liquor? There’s a long night ahead.”
“Madara! Let me be! I’ve never been to this formal an event before! This is white tie!” You were so worried you’d make a fool of yourself, which would reflect poorly on Madara. Good thing you consulted the professionals with your makeup and hair for tonight.
“Y/N, remember you are with me. Do not accept disrespect from anyone.”
Appreciating his sentiment, you nodded at him, but didn’t feel settled. You nibbled on your hor d’oeuvres and sipped the single malt scotch, reveling in every bite. Wow, the refreshments were tasty.
Madara continued to make light-hearted chatter with you, as if this were merely another casual date, in an attempt to soothe your nerves. He was somewhat successful.
He stood gracefully and held his hand out to you. “Y/N, dance with me.” Oh my, you took a few lessons in ballroom when you were a teenager, but that knowledge was long gone. Neither did you expect your first rodeo in years to be at such a high caliber. Not wanting to disappoint, you accepted Madara’s offer, but warned you weren’t very skilled.
He was so warm, his gaze affectionate as he walked with you to the dance floor where other couples already took their spots. Goodness, there were more spectators now. “Follow me. I will lead you.”
You were stepping to the rhythm slow-quick-quick, slow-quick-quick…this was a rumba. Under normal circumstances, you’d be bopping along to the sensual lyrics, but right now you could only focus on the drums which were keeping the beat, praying you didn’t misstep. You couldn’t help looking down at your feet to ensure their placement.
Madara was an excellent dancer. It was hard for others to differentiate from a distance, but so close, you saw the edges of his lips were pointed up in a tiny smile directed solely at you. Each step brushed the floor before he set his foot down, pushing your dress aside. He knew exactly where you were and never stepped on your feet or dress. He never looked down, the entirety of his attention focused on you. He signaled to pull you in, push you out. He twirled you. You and him were rhythm. Moving in tune to the beat with Madara’s body was intoxicating, but after one final spin, it all ended too soon. The song was over. There was clapping, even if it was drowned out by the ethereal feeling of you and Madara being the lone occupants on the floor.
The lights struck his figure in such a way. It accentuated the blue undertones of his hair, highlighted the refined arches of his cheekbones. It casted shadow upon his musculature, emphasizing his solid build through the layers of tuxedo. He was excruciatingly beautiful.
In the few moments when you were still in his arms, staring at each other after your first dance, he cupped your face and kissed you deeply in front of everyone. Your eyes were saucers. Madara never claimed you like that in public. Many guests paused to observe the spectacle.
He brought you back to your table and seated you. Bringing his hand to gently stroke the side of your head without tousling your locks, he murmured into your ear, telling you he had to attend to a quick business matter, but he will return to you soon.
He was leaving you alone! You fretted internally, anxiety once again hitting you like bricks, even if you agreed to Madara’s arrangement.
Quietly cutting a piece of the entrée that was served moments ago and gingerly placing it in your mouth, you glanced around the table. Every seat was now filled with men and women as dressed up as the ones you saw when you first entered the building. You nodded in greeting. Two different couples returned the pleasantry and you introduced yourself.
“Y/N? Such a beautiful name. How do you know Mr. Uchiha?” The lady of a kindly-looking couple asked you.
Mr. Uchiha? Sounded silly to you. You avoided the question, not about to disclose the website that brought you back into each other’s lives. “We met at the hospital when Izuna was sick.”
“Do you work at the hospital? Which one? Are you a doctor?” A different woman spoke up, this one immediately setting off a feeling of dislike in you. Her calculating gaze rolled over you in evaluation. It was mocking, the disdain close to the surface. “Please excuse me for my prodding inquiries, we’ve never seen Madara invite anyone other than Izuna to an event before!”
She called him ‘Madara,’ much more informal than the first woman. She must be closer to him or higher in hierarchy than the other guest. “I’m a nurse.”
Yet another pair chimed in. “Nursing is tough these days. It must be extremely difficult for you and your colleagues. Thank you what you do.” There were mutters of agreement from other guests.
You accepted their sentiment with grace.
“A nurse? Such a noble and devoted profession. So giving of yourselves, you even opted to follow your patrons all this way well after your services were no longer deemed necessary. Madara inspires such obsession, doesn’t he?” That beautiful woman you were already wary of offered you a sweet smile.
Pardon me?
You knew this woman was trying to humiliate you for your serving profession, but you weren’t biting. You were proud of and competent at what you did. And in your opinion, your job was vital to society and more important than a respectable number of people’s, including some of the ones seated at this table, even if they may be more finely dressed on a regular day.
She was also calling you a whore. Words were her weapon, carefully chosen to slice with precision like a scalpel. You tried to take the high road.
“Yes, I’ve made a difference in many people’s lives. Seems I can appreciate life more than most people can.” And you believed you did. You’ve seen the best and worst in people, seen as families clung to hope where there was none, and even then the families sometimes forced their will upon your colleagues. They may have screamed and thrown things and legally threatened. You’ve been forced to attempt every possible measure to ‘save’ those patients, because the family still believed their loved ones will pull through and walk out alive, no different from before they were first hospitalized. It was akin to torture, prolonging the suffering of these people for what could be months or more, as they wasted away, growing necrotic, their flesh sloughing off, dying multiple times as you were required to attempt resuscitation, breaking their ribs and continuing the horrible cyclical process over again. All that remained were the empty husks of bodies that still produced vital signs, until eventually even those shut down and the bodies could finally rest.
What you were forced to do was sometimes beyond inhumane.
You could appreciate the preciousness of life in a way many people will never understand. At the end of road, there was no difference whether you were a pauper or filthy rich. You couldn’t take any of that with you when you die. What did this woman know about life, or suffering? How could someone so ignorant even deign to comment on your service? Fury started to build in your mind.
Was life only the vapid pursuit of a hedonistic existence to a portion of these other guests here, whose festivities you’ve intruded upon? Where was Madara? You didn’t like it here. The mood grew tense at this table. You could probably hear a pin drop despite the background clamour of the party.
Deciding you had enough, you rose. “Excuse me,” you stated, before walking off to search for the restroom. You heard tittering as you left and internally scoffed at whoever made that sound, probably a Karen. Very mature. You came here to be with Madara, not to compete in petty rich people duels. You would much rather stumble around in a rumba with Madara than participate in this other type of social dance.
“Karen.” Another guest spoke in warning, but you’d already left.
---------------
Coming out of the single stall, you flattened your dress against yourself. There she was again, the wolf in sheepskin. She was finishing her touchups. Seriously, she followed you here? You groaned to yourself, not wanting to deal with her right now. Or at all.
She pretended your presence piqued her surprise. Snapping the mini compact shut, she stared you directly in the eyes.
“It was a fabulous performance you gave earlier! First time dancing?” She asked with a pleasant tone, yet her expression betrayed her snideness.
“Indeed. First time in a long while.” You replied tightly.
“I’m astonished! I never thought a newborn elephant could dance, it was absolutely enchanting. I’m sure many patrons haven’t been so entertained in some time.” She washed her hands, flicking excess water off, some hitting you, before drying her hands properly on a plush square towel. “Your dress! Excuse me!”
Anger coursed through your veins. She was getting bolder with your meek retorts, not even trying to veil her insults anymore. If you had a single useful thought in your hollow, elitist brain, every day you would learn many new things. How does Madara bear these people?
She insincerely apologized for splashing your gown. “Y/N, I am doing you a favour by approaching you about this. Someone like Madara will grow bored of you once he tires of lowborn novelty. He doesn’t love you. You will only be hurt by attempting to reach too far up.”
Attempting to reach too far up. Gritting your teeth, you replied, "Your bearing should make you much nobler than me, but it’s unfortunate money can't buy class." You gave her a wholly unimpressed stare. You weren’t interested in her pontification. “My relationship with Madara doesn’t concern you.” It was complicated and only between you and him, even if you’ve also been ruminating on the nature of your relationship lately. Finished your business in the restroom, you exited the premises to find your way back to your seat.
She sneered at you, condescension rolling off every fiber of her being. As if speaking with you was beneath her dignity, she snapped. "A commoner should learn etiquette before sullying spaces above her station."
You tried to think quickly, understanding Madara is higher in the social food chain than anyone here. You will likely be forgiven for saying something impolite, yet you wanted to return a witty remark, one that won’t be too crass or embarrass Madara. Your rage won out instead. How dare she. You were tired of trying to wrack your head for false niceties in comebacks.
With your heart pounding, your voice was filled with vitriol. “Are you a bitch just today or every day?”
She smirked derisively, as if she won the battle by making you break face and curse first. Her patronizing smirk transformed into a look of utter aghast in an instant.
Madara regarded her coldly and she slunk down in deference, but not surrendering entirely. “If a commoner must learn etiquette before showing their face, tell me, are you a commoner?”
She parted her mouth to speak.
“Do you think me tasteless, woman?”
“I would never dare, Madara!”
“You may not address me by my name. You assume to be more familiar than you are. I asked if you are a commoner.”
Madara acknowledged you by glancing down, before his icy furious gaze found its original target again. She hadn’t strung together another eloquent sentence since Madara’s arrival, her previous conceit gone.
“Hn. I suppose a lowborn wretch wouldn’t have the capacity to recognize your betters unless it was spelled out for you. By ‘your betters’ I mean Y/N, who has demonstrated grace and etiquette despite your continued baseless denigration. There is only one commoner here and it isn’t who you thought.”
Guests at the surrounding tables went silent at the exchange, nosy yet uncomfortable with such obvious conflict at a major gathering. The woman gawked, not yet having recovered her meager wits.
Madara maintained his glower at her. “She is with me. That was all you needed to know.” He took your hand and led you away. Madara had no issue with finishing his dinner in an awkward silence at their table. Let them say what they will about him. But you didn’t deserve this kind of poor treatment.
“Do you want to stay here or leave?” He asked you.
Grimacing, you confessed. "I don't like this place. It’s too stiff and the people are like cats."
---------------
Madara summoned his driver and you left together.
The adrenaline rush over, you suddenly felt very small around Madara, the subject of your affections who you were brutally informed was someone that shouldn’t be yours. “I’m sorry if my conversation with that woman was inappropriate at any point and if it reflects badly on you. I said some foul things too.”
You’ve never seen Madara verbally vicious, although you were certain he had it in him. You were aware he was harsher with strangers than you and Izuna. Seeing his wrath was still an experience.
“Don’t apologize for rightfully defending yourself. I shouldn’t have left you by yourself for as long as I did.” You shook your head to inform him he was not at fault. Madara was beyond rage that anyone dared insult or belittle you. That someone found an opportunity to lash you with such venomous words when he wasn’t present to defend you. “I’m sorry you went through that. Are you okay?”
Not looking at him, you asked, “Who was that?” You curled against your protector.
Madara snorted. “No one of importance. She was someone who wanted to arrange an engagement with either me or Izuna long ago, but we never gave her the time of day. Seems she forgot about everything except her unwarranted bloated opinion of herself.”
The woman was way out of line. No one else at the party treated you with such contempt, even if they viewed themselves superior. You understood this, but you weren’t used to conflict. Heart still pounding hard in your chest, you were severely shaken by the confrontation now that it was over, especially when some of that woman’s appalling sentiments were in truth thoughts you also considered.
---------------
You could tell Madara was still livid when you entered his penthouse together and he tossed his keys on the counter. He was already pulling off his tuxedo and loosening the bowtie as he tousled his hair and exhaled forcefully. You stayed close to the grand entrance momentarily before following him inside. You were quiet, slow, and methodical when you removed your winter coat and placed it on a leather chair.
Madara was suddenly in front of you, tucking you into his arms, his lips seeking yours in a kiss harder than he had ever given you. Gasping, you pulled from him and looked away, feeling heavily conflicted.
“Y/N?”
You took several steps back, praying the distance will help clear your mind. It was futile.
Trembling, your voice broke. "She wasn’t completely wrong…I don't belong with you. We're from completely different worlds. You should be with someone better than me. Someone beautiful, elegant, from a higher family more suited to your station."
Madara's face was blank. "Yet I am with you, no?"
You couldn’t find solace in his words. "I’m just a normal person, Madara. And I don't want you to buy me things, I was never cut out to be a sugar baby, it seems. Yet I stick out like a sore thumb even more among your wealthy crowd without those luxury items. I can’t do this anymore."
Tears trailed down your face and you sniffed helplessly, swiping your hands across your eyes repeatedly to remove the salty fluid, loathing your weakness in front of him yet again.
Madara straightened, stiff as a board. His voice was cooler. He didn’t pursue when you stepped away from him. "It was my assumption that was the way those sorts of relationships worked."
He agrees we are on different levels. Your eyes watered more at the confirmation on the nature of your relationship. His money and prestige for your time and sex. You didn’t even put out for him.
Yet…you wanted to be with him, even if it would only be a coupling of bodies and you wouldn’t claim all of him. It hurt immensely, but you couldn't get enough of this man, like you were a moth drawn to flame. From the beginning, it felt like there was something deep, like you were meant to be with Madara. But the more you reflected on your relationship, the more it was apparent it didn’t matter whether Madara was actually fond of you or if he regarded you as paid-for company. The extreme difference in social status wasn’t so easily overcome. Steeling your resolve, you looked him in the eyes, hands quivering as they went to your back to undo the zipper, opening your dress to start slipping it off.
Madara watched you in bewildered rapture at first, his gaze tracing every movement revealing increasing tracts of bare skin. Your delicate lace bra came into view once your top was exposed. He wanted you so much it was painful. But…he also wanted you to want this. He wished for you to enjoy being with him so much you'd keep choosing to return to him whenever you desired intimacy. He hated this nervous look of coercion painted on your features. Hated your tears. This was wrong.
He stopped you part way, grasping your hands in his, then sliding your loose clothing back over your shoulders. "No, not like this. Never like this." His grip was hard.
Something in Madara cracked, his piercing gaze pinning you. “This misplaced sense of inferiority in you is unbecoming. Did you think I let merely anyone into my home? Into my life?” He stalked towards you as you slinked away, until he had you cornered against the walls. “Or that I would turn over one of my properties to someone insignificant to me?”
He had to stop. This was no way to speak to someone he held dear.
Madara closed his eyes, jaws clenched, his frustration flaring. Irritation he didn’t realize he could feel towards you coiled in his chest. He allowed several moments to pass, to collect himself before he could verbalize truly malignant words. After all this time, how could you not know? What was this unsightly self-pity? His mouth pulled into a tight line, gathering his thoughts as he calmed himself. He wouldn’t be cruel, not to you.
"You still don't seem to understand. The intention was never to purchase your company or body. It was always to court you, to persuade you towards becoming mine."
“Meddling fools may be incapable of seeing your radiance and don’t deserve your company. That isn’t our concern. I’d rather you don’t fit in with trifling superficial crowds. What we have was never ‘those sorts of relationships’ you’re assuming.” He glared at you.
You were still gaping with an astonished expression, trapped between a wall and his sturdy body. You were shaking, close to hyperventilating. Madara took in your anguished state. This was agony for him too. He sat you on the floor, pulling you between his legs and into his body. Your heaving breaths eventually slowed and tears dried as you leaned against him, feeling uncertain in his embrace, but not yet wanting to leave. He wants me for me, the obvious conclusion settling in. You huddled up with your head nestled into his neck and he breathed you in.
It was late when you spoke again. “Madara? I’d like to go home tonight.”
“This is one of your homes. This place is yours now in every way except in title.” Madara felt uneasy now that the storm that was his temper passed, hoping he didn’t say too much. He held you more tightly.
“No, I’d like to go back to my home tonight. I can’t be here right now. Please. I need to be alone.” You pleaded, hoping he’d understand. “I’ll pack my things and call for a ride.”
He snorted, the notion you wanted to pack your belongings to abandon your home absurd to him. “Don’t be ridiculous. I will take you home if you insist. It’s the middle of the night in freezing weather.” He was not letting you go that easily. You were his.
~To be continued~
---------------
Notes:
A gentle reminder that while Madara is softer with Izuna and her, he isn’t soft. Drama finds the drama king, who still wields a way with words like a kunai.
Twin Flames- Chapter 3
“You can build another home with me.”
“Sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader
I heard people enjoy Izuna. Please have some more of him 💕. They were supposed to meet anyways. Happy early birthday Izuna! @margretesonigiri
On AO3
Warnings: romance, flirting, teasing, bratty brother Words: 3905
---------------
“Izuna. You will be tactful tonight. You will not torment Y/N.” A deep voice sounded through the room, commanding the other man.
The younger brother almost busted out in laughter. “Yes, yes. I’ll behave myself. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your sweetheart,” he snickered cheekily.
“Your opinions are valued when kept to yourself. No one cares for them.” Madara glared disapprovingly at his younger brother. He wondered if it was worth bringing Izuna. “You are only here because Y/N wanted to see you.”
“Aw she cares about me more than your disdain for my presence! You should be careful. Maybe she’ll fall for my good looks when she sees it next to your sour puss! That must be why you didn’t want me here.” He lay fresh slices of a white fish in neat rows on a plate.
A knife chopped hard into the cutting board. You had suggested hot pot for tonight’s dinner, a traditional Japanese winter food, then stated it’s too much for only two people, so more should be invited, people like Izuna. You were excited to see his how his brother was doing.
“You can be at ease niisan. I won’t harass Y/N, she helped save me after all,” Izuna started sweetly. “You on the other hand…” Fair game.
You’d offered to arrive early to assist with the food preparation, but Madara declined, stating they were the hosts and it was okay for you to come closer to meal time. He needed to talk sense into his little brother first.
Madara glowered at Izuna. “Hn. I can handle myself. You should worry about humiliating yourself.”
The bell chimed and Madara went to answer it, his scowl dropping upon seeing you, replaced by a small tilt of the lips. “Y/N,” he nodded, “Come on in.” He moved to help you with your heavy winter coat.
“Madara! Hi! It smells heavenly in here. What are you preparing? By the way, I brought the whiskey you like.” You handed the loot to him and craned your neck to give him a peck to the lips after he turned back to you. Madara blinked. “Is Izuna already here?”
“Good evening Y/N. We’re just about finished getting everything ready.” Izuna appeared from the other side of the foyer, a knowing look on his face as he wiped his hands on the front of an apron.
“Izuna! It’s great to see you again! I’m so happy you’re well.” You smiled at Izuna, holding out your hand to him in greeting.
“The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for your care back then. I’m glad to be able to see you again too.” Izuna took your hand, but then pulled you towards him in a hug, his gaze soft. I hope this works out between you and niisan. He saw the changes in his brother over the past months since being with you. He suspected even others who weren’t as familiar with Madara as he was could see as well. Calmer, more willing to talk, happy. Your presence in Madara’s life was a soothing balm to him. “He talks about you all the time.”
You straightened, not expecting such a warm welcome, then relaxed and returned Izuna’s embrace. You were conscious of already feeling relaxed around Izuna, a stark difference from the nervous wreck you were on that first date with Madara months ago. “I hope those are only good things he says.”
“Only compliments, Y/N.” Izuna gave you a wink.
Madara led you and Izuna back to the kitchen, his hand unconsciously on the small of your back as if you didn’t know where the kitchen was. “Have a look. I think you’ll enjoy the menu tonight,” Madara said to you.
A stove was built into the dining table, the large pot on top already simmering. You spotted carrots, mushrooms, and tofu poking through the broth surface. The table was covered in plates of thinly sliced meats and seafood of every variety. Several sake glasses were laid out in waiting with inarizushi and other small dishes to the side.
A mixture of fresh, simple ingredients boiled together in perfect harmony, bringing forth a mouth-watering fragrance that saturated the air as the food cooked. It wasn’t too heavy at all. Madara asked what you wanted and served you first. Once the pot was mostly emptied, he placed the next round of meat to cook, keeping an eye out if you required anything.
“Cheers!” The trio of you clapped your sake glasses together and sipped. You thanked them for inviting you tonight to share this meal.
Madara plopped a piece of inarizushi in his bowl. “There is no need to thank us Y/N. It should be Izuna thanking us for inviting him over tonight.” He gave Izuna a sideways look.
Izuna snorted. “The more, the merrier. Do you not know the first rule of hot pot?”
“It probably isn’t to scoop all the meat for yourself.”
“It’s not my fault you only eat stuffed tofu.”
“Hn. I suppose someone needs more meat on the bones.”
You looked back and forth, then plucked a piece of that yummy white fish, which you learned was Pacific cod, and ate it. You sat back for the show.
The feast continued with shots fired in both directions. The roasts were getting spicy! You glanced between the brothers again, unable to suppress a giggle. If Madara and Izuna continued, you wouldn’t be shocked if they started spitting fire at each other!
---------------
A temporary truce was called for clean-up to happen. You were pleasantly surprised with this other side of Madara, never expecting him to be so silly when his brother was around. It was endearing and you’d love to do this again.
The leftovers were packed and you helped Izuna with rinsing the dishes before loading the dishwasher. You insisted on pre-washing the more heavily soiled plates before placing them in the machine. You had trouble with the cap on the new bottle of dishwashing detergent.
“Madara? Could you help me open this?” You asked, looking across the room at him.
It was only a second, but when he didn’t come over at once, Madara noticed Izuna giving him the hairy eyeball, as if daring him to tell Izuna to help instead since he was closer. The look plainly stated, Brother, you’re so dumb. Madara wordlessly made his way over to the sink where you were. He came from behind, wrapping his arms around you to grasp the bottle, and twisted it open. “You’re welcome,” he whispered against your ear before disappearing back to where he was, leaving you bashful while Izuna tried to stifle his laugh and failed miserably.
---------------
Within the quiet setting of this spacious retreat in the sky, the mood was anything but tranquil. You played a strategic board game with Madara and Izuna while the brothers continued to abuse each other. Placing your tokens, you only realized your error after your turn ended. You scowled at yourself. Madara took out several of Izuna’s units, but agreed to an amiable trade more beneficial to you than himself.
“You two are like a gang,” Izuna complained, “picking on me constantly. There‘s no chance for me this game. I am green with envy for your relationship, but I’m afraid I might have the runs if niisan keeps coming after me.”
“Hmm like this green tea mousse cheesecake we’re having.” You mentioned offhandedly, savouring the delicious taste of your slice.
Madara stared incredulously at your comment. He didn’t need to hear your analogy, only to remember your profession and how you enjoyed these tasteless jokes at times.
You cackled at his expression. “Is the great Madara scared of a bit of poop?"
“We are having dessert.”
"So? I can still eat. What about you Izuna? How's your appetite?"
"I could eat your share too niisan. It’s a great cake," came the cheeky reply.
Madara's lip twitched. You weren’t this willful when you were alone with him. Fantastic, now there were two adult rascals he must supervise. “Izuna, I’m taking you out.”
The game ended with Madara on top, you in the middle, and Izuna losing after having most of his army annihilated by Madara. The victor was exceedingly satisfied with himself. And full of contentment, having spent the night with his two most cherished people in his home, even if one of them was annoying. Too bad he cared for his brother so much.
---------------
“You can use my bedroom tonight. Izuna and I will stay in other rooms.” Madara opened the walk-in and led you inside. “I bought you clothes in case you stay over so you won’t have to wear mine again. We can get more.”
“Madara! You’re doing it again. I brought my own clothing for the night you know.”
He bent down and took your lips, hands coming to your hips to hold you close.
“This isn’t nearly enough. I should be doing more for you,” he murmured against your lips.
Leaning into him, you kissed back with your palms to his pecs, accepting his embrace and the gift, deciding the clothes were a minor concession in the grand scheme of things, then stepped away to shower. Left to yourself, you thought back to how life used to be utterly mundane. The same things, day in and day out. Now you appreciated even the most ordinary, most boring parts of daily life which became colourful and exciting if it was with Madara by your side. It was like the sun broke the horizon and you finally saw the world’s spectacular kaleidoscope of colours in vivid detail for the first time. It was blinding. It was beautiful. Like the night was painted over with dazzling sun.
Exiting the washroom, you saw that Madara was still in the main bedroom with you, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your heart jumped. Izuna is here! And there’s no door! He looked thoughtful.
“Y/N, I have something else for you. Please accept it.” He held up something shiny that jingled. You gasped. The keys to the penthouse.
“You can use this condo whenever you want.” He looked around. “Change whatever you want too, make it yours. I’ve been arranging the paperwork to change the ownership to your name. You just have to sign when they’re ready. It’s yours.”
You were initially speechless. “I –Madara. This is way too much. I already told you no more of these extravagant gifts! I can’t take this.” It’s a penthouse. Downtown. Was Madara insane? This property was worth millions.
His dark eyes bore into you.
“If this is about my role in helping Izuna, stop. I was just one of many. It was my job. I’m not some angel or anything that pure if you see me that way. I’m often not even a good Samaritan.”
Madara’s eyes closed. He knew you would refuse him. He felt disturbingly vulnerable during these moments when he was forced to voice his unfathomable emotions, but he would push through for you. He needed you to understand. “What’s between us is no longer about Izuna.”
“I already have a home. I don’t need another place to live,” you continued.
“This place is much closer to your hospital and school than yours. The commute will be easier on you and you won’t be nearly as tired. I can arrange to have food ready and cleaning too. Let me take care of you. You can build another home with me.” He brushed your face with the back of his fingers and looked at you tenderly.
You stared back helplessly, tears rising to the surface again. But you wouldn’t let them fall this time. Why was he so good to you? Hugging him tightly, you buried your face in his muscled chest, his arms snaking around you to return the hold.
"I will accept the keys, but not the papers." Thank you for everything you do.
---------------
Several days later, you were ending your shift by giving your chemically paralyzed patient a bed bath so he was freshened up for the next nurse. Everything else was already done: extra bags of paralyzing agents and several other medication drips mixed, fluid balances, and documentation completed. The dressings were changed much earlier. After many transfusions and the bedside bronchoscopy, the blood gas values finally improved and he was more stable than in the morning.
Starting at the chest, you scrubbed with medicated wipes, ensuring you got between all the dips and folds on the body, letting them dry before you draped the body with the new gown. You made your way to the legs and did the same, then came back to the crotch with plain bath wipes.
Erk! You had to spend a lot of time scrubbing this man’s cheesy glans, lamenting how so many people even among healthcare workers didn’t know how to wash a dick properly. It gave foreskin a bad reputation that saddened you. You huffed, briefly wondering what Madara looked like in his birthday suit before banishing the thought instantly. It was fortunate you were still required to wear a face mask at work –no one who happened to walk in could see the evidence of your inopportune reverie.
With the shift over, you changed and headed to the pickup with Jasna at your side as you caught up.
“Y/N, I didn’t see you all day. Did you have a good shift?” she said.
“The guy was sick, but it was steady the whole day when I wasn’t on break. Manageable. No catastrophic workload where I had to worry if I might kill someone by accident. Yours?” You responded. It’s been weeks since you worked together, and your unit was such a huge ICU that even when you do, you might not be in each other’s vicinity or see each other.
“Wasn’t bad either, surprisingly. When I received report this morning, I was expecting much worse, but it was just a long series of small annoyances today. Are you still seeing Madara? Any new developments?” She lived vicariously through you.
You offered her a sheepish grin. “I think we’re officially dating now. Even went to his house recently for hot pot to celebrate the New Year and saw Izuna too.”
“Wow look at you! Dating Madara! How did he ask you?” Jasna wrapped an arm around your shoulders, eager to hear more, certain it must be an excellent story.
“Umm, it was a strange day when we were celebrating his birthday on Christmas Eve. Look, he’s here. I have to go now. Bye!” You weren’t going to divulge how Madara talked about seeing inside you, even if it was Jasna. Nope, no way. She would take the conversation in another direction. You slipped out of her grasp and rushed over to Madara.
“Hey wait! I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she snickered. “Have a great night Y/N.”
There he was waiting in the warmth of his car, arms crossed as he watched you in contemplation. Madara observed your spirited, carefree interaction with your colleague, who looked familiar to him. Must be another nurse. It was a stark contrast to your anxiety around him when you first started seeing each other. It had been upsetting when you were stressed from being with him and he didn’t know how to convey to you to relax. Although you remained periodically tense in his presence, he felt encouraged by your growing willingness to seek his touch and banter with him.
He stepped out of his car to open the door for you, nodding at this other nurse in greeting as she passed. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her head bobbed before she wished him goodnight and rushed off. You tittered to yourself at Jasna’s reaction to Madara. It was sweet of him to offer to pick you up, even if tonight’s restaurant was a close walk. He refused to let you freeze in this weather.
The short drive was pleasant. Madara inquired about your day, his hand comfortably resting on yours as you recalled to him several funny moments today while he chuckled quietly.
---------------
You caught yourself rambling during dinner and reminded yourself to slow down, even if Madara didn’t interrupt you. You were a grown ass woman with your own place and a job, but still Madara managed to make you feel like a starry-eyed teenager! Feeling silly, you asked him how he was. You were adequately self-aware to realize before today that you gushed at times in your attempts to fill the silence. But despite being acquainted with the major facts about Madara, you didn’t know nearly as many details about him after he shut you down the first time you inquired. It was difficult to convince Madara to speak about himself.
“Hn. Business as usual, although there is an upcoming conference that’ll span several weeks. I’ll be in Japan.” Madara stared pointedly at you to memorize your features as if he’d never see you again. “It’s hosted by the Senju family. They’re prolific builders of all sorts of property, maybe you’ve heard of Senju Hashirama?”
“Never heard of him. Is he famous?” You asked innocently.
Madara chuckled in delight, amused how outside so-called elite circles, regular people were quite unaware of the dealings between the upper echelons of society, even if the Senju family was almost like royalty in their field. The Senju weren’t the worst of them, but wherever big money was, the rich found a way to get themselves involved.
“You’re not missing much. He’s a buffoon.”
“Oh! It’s him!” You giggled, remembering Madara’s uncharacteristic ranting during a previous call following his heated day.
For the Uchiha, they were involved in a plethora of blade-related industries. Their luxury knives, weaponry, and cutting equipment sales were a minor source of income, however successful they were. The real money was from owning the mines where construction materials and quality ores for industrial metals came from and sourcing these vital materials to industries around the world. And knowing how to invest in these resources and other stocks.
“If it’s a property development conference, why will you be there?” You dabbed your lips with the napkin under Madara’s intense scrutiny.
He smiled at you. “Construction requires ample raw materials and cutting equipment, both of which we provide. There’ll be parts dedicated solely to research and innovation for those topics.”
You sighed in disappointment. Another few weeks without Madara. “It seems we spend more time apart than we see each other. I hope you have a successful conference.” You were unable to resist pouting.
The warmth that spread through him at your confession was unstoppable. He gave you a smug look. “It seems as if you’re already missing me, well before I’ve even left.”
“Of course I’ll miss you! I mean, I won’t! I mean… yes, oh, I don’t know!” You blabbed until you stopped yourself in dismay. “You’re riling me up on purpose!”
Look at him! Elbow to the table, squishing his cheek on his fist as he smirked at your expense! He thoroughly enjoyed causing your embarrassment in public!
Madara threw his head back and belly laughed in earnest, the smooth tone reverberating and shaking you to the core. He reached across the table to scoop up your fingertips in his hand. “I apologize Y/N for your distress, but that was much too good to pass up.” He grinned as his eyes twinkled.
“Hmph.” You maintained your air of mock indignance. “Keep it up and I won’t let you drop me off at home. Remind you you’re not being a gentleman tonight.”
“Oh? Here I thought you enjoyed the heated seats in my car.”
Darn, outed. “A little chill will help clear my head of any misplaced longing for you and your teasing ways. The subway is always an option.”
His eyes scanned your face, entertaining your words with the grin still plastered to his. “I can keep you comfortable though,” he purred. You shuddered, not missing the double meaning. Your eyes almost crossed as you gaped at him. Definitely not a gentleman tonight.
Quickly recovering, you rolled your eyes at him and asked, “Have you ever even taken the subway before?” You doubted this fancy man would enjoy the proximity of hundreds of strangers at any time of day.
“No.” Just as you thought, you smiled while shaking your head.
---------------
The bill came, after you and Madara ‘made up,’ not that there were hard feelings from the back and forth earlier. He had backed off and let your mortification die.
“Here.” You waved the server over. Madara’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the bill?”
He frowned deeply at the prospect of you treating him for dinner. “What man allows that?” He took the receipt from the server.
"Lots of couples take turns. You are so traditional! Are you from the Stone Ages?!" You tried to snatch the small paper back, but Madara had longer arms and he held it from you.
Madara liked when you challenged him, but not on this. He wouldn’t allow this. He spoke before thinking.
"I wasn't aware this is how the sugar daddy dynamic worked." He stated flatly, distraught by your actions and sentiment, however well-intentioned, the strong desire to care for you overwhelming. He was also the one with greater means after all.
You stiffened. Sugar daddy. Right, that was how you met.
You implored him to at least let you buy your own share of dinner. You needed to.
“No. It is my duty to provide for you.”
---------------
His words hurt, even if you didn’t let on how much they affected you. You and Madara never acknowledged the fact you met on a sugar dating site. The development of your relationship seemed genuine and organic. Perhaps it was awkward to start, but it had grown into something warm and natural. At times he was difficult to read, but you knew this man was kind and caring behind his seemingly indifferent exterior. Being with Madara brought you greater joy than most things. It wasn’t like either of you felt the need to even assign a definitive label to what you had.
Madara’s words were a painful reminder of the imbalance in this relationship, even if he once mentioned you were equals and had been very good to you from the start. How could you be equals when you hailed from completely different upbringings and worlds?
The roads were icy, your breathing creating puffs of fog with every exhale before you settled in the car. Naturally, Madara was driving you home. He insisted, and you craved his company. He looked slightly tense, but didn’t seem he was aware of your brooding.
“I’d like to invite you to a formal party next weekend. It’s a gathering with another major metal-working company in the province.” He glanced at you briefly, once again bringing his hand to seek physical contact with yours as he completed a left turn. It was a high-end formal event, but in his mind, still considered a minor party without the biggest industrial players in the world. Madara thought you might be interested.
You were staring at your feet when he asked. Would you belong? You peered over at your man longingly, chest tightening. Your hand flipped around to clutch his properly.
“I will be there.”
~To be continued~
---------------
Notes:
This chapter 3 got long, so I cut it in two.
I’m of the group who thinks the S/O is initially more smitten than Madara, but he falls way harder. “Acts of Service” is his main love language, so he’s quite preoccupied with taking care of her. Madara doesn't do half-assed measures. It’s over for Madara, even if he hasn’t said the words yet. He’s hers 💖
Twin Flames- Ch. 2
"My brother’s heart wasn’t the only one that stopped when we saw you."
Warnings: “sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader, romance, hurt/comfort, dating, handholding, masturbation, Madara’s birthday celebration
Words: 5596 On AO3
You were back in your territory at the hospital. It felt good to be back in control and not like a floundering baby hippo in the presence of the hottest man you’ve had in your life.
Today was just another typical shift. As always, you started off the day already mildly irritated at baseline and it built from there. But you and your coworkers always trudged through it somehow.
You had to remind yourself as your patient’s mother continuously wailed over her son’s state that while it was just another day at work for you, it was the worst period of this lady’s life. You patiently explained to her your observations about her son status, that while he was indeed still very sick, there was no need for immediate panic at the moment.
You exhaled in exasperation once she couldn’t see you. Coming down the hall to inform your charge nurse of the family’s request to be approved for longer visiting hours, you instead found a small group of staff huddled at the nursing station. There was an enormous bouquet with a card and a huge pile of individually boxed and decorated cupcakes from a nearby famous bakery.
Treats! Oh my, Madara knew how to get in nurses’ hearts. Quality treats, not just the usual cold boxed coffee from a bad franchise or the worst pizza the managers could get them. Hmm you considered maybe these gifts could be from Izuna too.
“Look! Y/N! Madara and Izuna remember you too! You’re mentioned in the card. Seems like Izuna is now fully recovered and they want to thank everyone for their care. That’s so kind of them. It’s been years.” One of the respiratory therapists filled you in and re-read the contents of the card.
“For sure. I still can’t believe Izuna made a turnaround. I was sure he’d be gone multiple times,” you replied. It was certainly a nice gesture, even if everyone was just doing their jobs. Their appreciation meant a lot, for instance, reminding you of why you went into this freaking profession to begin with. A part of your heart raged in contempt and disdain for the backhanded slap your local politicians gave in their latest mockery of an interview. Such disrespect.
You plucked a cutely decorated cupcake saying “red velvet” on the box from the table before disappearing into the staff lounge for your break. After heating your lunch, you noticed an unread message. Madara. Since the first date, you and Madara had been on several long phone calls, as well as texting daily.
Madara was asking if you’d taken your breaks yet today and if you liked the cupcakes. You let him know just started your lunch break and will have his treats soon. You thanked him.
“We could never thank you and everyone there enough. You saved Izuna,” his message read.
“We were just doing our jobs, Madara.” You replied.
“Even if you were just doing your jobs, the level of empathy and dedication you’ve shown wasn’t a requirement in the delivery of care. You’ve been above and beyond the entire time. Nothing we do in return will ever be enough.” You flushed, even if he wasn’t there to see it.
“Would you like to come over tonight? I can pick you up after work,” he offered.
Huh? “But it’d be so late! And you never know if I can even leave on time. Something could always pop up, and then I’d be even later! It’d be too much trouble! And I look like a raccoon after work. I woke up at 0500. And I’m usually in a poor mood after work and not sociable. I’d be terrible company!” You rambled. Oh my gosh. You’re going to his place already? Is he trying to sleep with you? The other part of your mind was more preoccupied with how awful you looked after a 12-hr shift.
“I will wait for you. Don’t worry, you’re not inconveniencing me. If you come over instead of us going out, you can shower while I finish cooking dinner. You can rest. I already have food prepared.”
You didn’t reply right away, so he added, “Just dinner, Y/N. No pressure for anything else.”
It was hard to argue with Madara, especially when you would love dinner and not have to scramble after work to figure out what to eat. Your only excuses were your worries about your appearance and visiting his house so soon. It wasn’t even like you were against going to bed with Madara, but you’d be exhausted and feeling raw before the date began. You agreed to see him again tonight anyways.
“Good. I will see you tonight.” He sounded pleased even if it was just a text.
The rest of the shift passed by uneventfully, until the end.
It wasn’t even your patient, but your friend’s in an adjacent room who started deteriorating with only an hour left in the shift. Of course, the witching hour. Caught up in the whirlwind of activity to try stabilizing this patient, you fell behind on your own tasks for your patient. It was 40 minutes after the usual time you’d leave the hospital when you were finished. Oh no, Madara.
You grabbed your belongings and rushed out to the hospital drop-off where you agreed to meet him and spotted him standing with his eyes closed, hands in his pockets and a leg crossed over the other.
“Madara! I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry to keep you waiting this long. I—“ a simple apology couldn’t adequately begin to describe how badly you felt.
He waved off your apology and opened the door for you. “I said I would wait for you, didn’t I?” Receiving such a sincere apology was strange, yet refreshing, to him. “Are you okay?” He suggested bringing you back to his place because he knew you’d be tired. He didn’t want you to worry about your next meal or going out. He didn’t mind waiting on you. The intention was to take care of you so you could rest, not to be a cause of more stress. Irritation tugged at his mind, but his features were practiced and smooth.
“I’m okay. Just really tired.”
The short ride back to his condo was generally quiet aside from a few more apologies while you were trying to settle in. Madara decided against bringing you back to his main residence in another part of the city. Partly because Izuna was there and he didn’t want to deal with him with you there. And another because this condo was close to your hospital.
He turned into his parking spot and you took an elevator to the top floor with him.
--------------- You stepped into a modern work of art. Minimalist soft leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the downtown lakeside skyline, a spiraling glass staircase that led to what was presumably a bedroom, high ceilings. A waterfall feature cascaded over a crystalline wall in the middle of the room backlit by artistic lighting. Wow, you paused to absorb the sight.
“Your house is beautiful,” you told Madara.
“Make yourself at home.” He held out his arms to help you out of your jacket, hanging it in the entrance closet. The heady aromas of heavy meats wafted into your sinuses and your stomach growled loudly. You were famished.
Madara smiled at you. “The washroom is this way.” He began to head down a hall when you informed him of your lack of alternative clothing. “I will find something for you.” He replied, not even breaking his stride.
---------------
You left the shower feeling slightly ridiculous, but much more comfortable. You were wearing Madara’s t-shirt and shorts, if it could be considered that. It was more like his clothing was using you as a hanging rack, the pieces of fine clothing much too large for your frame. The sleek silk felt luxurious on your skin though. Madara made no comments about your appearance upon seeing you, but he looked amused and pleased with himself, to your consternation.
“Dinner is ready.” He presented a spread of options. Your fleeting vexation vaporized upon seeing what he prepared, your eyes wide and salivating. “Madara, this is way too much!” The scent you nosed earlier was a roast beef tenderloin, too large a portion for only two people. There were also creamy mashed potatoes, some sort of fresh green salad, garlic bread, and an array of appetizers.
“Better to indulge in excess than insufficiency when entertaining. There is dessert as well if you would like.”
“I can’t complain. I am starving. May I help myself?” You were ready to load everything onto your plate.
“Go ahead. I’d be worried if you were left hungry. Would you like a glass? I heard you liked wine.” He popped open a bottle of red while looking at you with a knowing smirk.
Your eye twitched lightly, reminding yourself to mind your manners even if you were mentally and physically worn. Your plates filled, you dug in, accepting a glass of wine from your rather impromptu date of the night. The flavours and textures of every bite was heavenly. You closed your eyes and moaned, a part of you mildly surprised a well-off man like Madara could cook like this.
“I take it the food is to your liking?” He asked with pride.
You made a sound of agreement. “Yes this is amazing.” You continued to sate yourself on Madara’s kitchen creations. “Thank you…for everything you’ve done tonight…” You trailed off.
Adrenaline from earlier still kicked in your veins, but as your mind relaxed, your body now washed and fed after over 12 long numbing hours, you started to feel human again. You looked at Madara funny, an inexplicable feeling taking over you. You felt vulnerable with this powerful man who was still new to you, who still made you anxious and self-conscious. And this same man took care of you like you were precious and worthwhile. Cursing the emotional instability that wasn’t unusual post-shift, you suddenly found yourself in tears.
At first it was only a few silent tears you wiped away when Madara wasn’t looking. The feeling of being overwhelmed and out of your element however wasn’t so easily erased. It wasn’t even a horrible shift. Were you sad? Confused? Just completely worn out and depleted? What was happening?
“Y/N?” Madara asked in alarm and straightened to attention. He stood from his chair and tread over towards you. “What is wrong?” He replayed the events of tonight in an attempt to elucidate what could be the cause of your distress, if there was something he may have said or done as well. Madara brought himself down to your level and took your hands in his. He was equally befuddled.
Cheeks now flaming in embarrassment, you shook your head wildly. “I –I don’t know... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this or be a bother. I shouldn’t have come here tonight after all. I can go.” Panic set in and you regressed to your way of evasion in times of emotional turmoil. But he didn’t let you flee.
Madara hugged you, distantly noticing the true size difference between you for the first time now that you were so close.
“Don’t go. You can let it out when you’re with me. It’s okay.” Madara was in truth also distressed. But the raging urge to comfort you remained strong despite such a feeling being a rather foreign sentiment in his normal life. His discordant emotions clashed, with the urge to provide comfort to you triumphing over his own unease. He held you more tightly to himself, stroking your back and softly uttering words of encouragement while you kept apologizing.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It wasn’t even like I had a terrible day. I just—“ You tried to remember your training. Despite your current tearful state, you were normally able to maintain your composure even when feeling wild panic during work emergencies. But here with Madara, it was useless. He broke down all your defences.
“There’s no need for you to keep apologizing. We are okay. You’re safe here with me.” Madara settled beside you. He continued to caress your head and back, running his hand up and down in slow laps. You took the intimate position as permission to burrow. Bawling, you delved deeper into his neck to seek refuge in his touch and presence. It felt like you were flayed wide open and he was seeing into your guts.
You didn’t even know why you’re crying. It was hardly the worst shift that could have happened, as mentioned. Perhaps it was the potent mixture of adrenaline, feeling you’ve disappointed the man you like, accumulated nursing traumas, stress about school, general exhaustion, and loneliness.
You stayed in each other’s embrace for an eternity until your feverish breathing calmed, your temple resting against Madara’s chest, lulled by the even, strong thuds of his heart. Reluctantly parting from him, you gazed up at his profile with puffy eyes and running nose. He traced your face.
“Are you still hungry?” He asked. You shook your head to answer in negative.
“Stay over tonight.” Feeling too raw to argue with him, you agreed and in an instant, Madara had you swept into his arms as he made his way to the glass stairs leading up. Madara carefully deposited you in the king bed lined with silken sheets like you were his treasured cargo. He indicated to you the washroom if you’d like to use it again and left you to disappear downstairs.
“Get some rest, Y/N.”
You didn’t see him again that night.
---------------
It was several weeks before you saw Madara again. You and him were respectively preoccupied with school and business in the previous weeks before the end of this year. School work came in waves. After submitting your final essay of the semester, you felt like a free woman. No assignments for a few weeks, no shifts to work this week, you were a new person. Madara had likewise been busy with year-end obligations, according to what you gleaned from his calls and messages.
The air was getting chilly. It was such a festive time of year and besides seeing your family, which you did yesterday, you wanted to spend time with Madara. It really felt you haven’t made as much time for each other as you should have. You parents had been elated to see you again, but incessantly prodding when it came to your love life. They became even more determined when you tried to change the topic.
You sighed. Good thing you moved out. They were so supportive and such lovely people, but there was no such thing as enough privacy when living with your parents as an adult.
Clutching your phone, you eagerly called Madara. You finally felt you could see him again after your incident. You wanted to see him despite that. He never mentioned your breakdown during the past weeks. He was the one who said the two of you were okay, that nothing between you was harmed from your display of emotion. You wanted to believe him. You haven’t known Madara for long, but it seemed to you he had always been straight-forward, even if he softened his words and tone for you.
“Alright. We can head to Yorkdale tomorrow. I have favours to purchase as well.” Madara agreed readily to your next date.
Bursting with excitement, you confirmed the date for tomorrow. Then you timidly asked if he’d like to come over to yours for dinner as well. To celebrate the holidays, but also his upcoming birthday.
---------------
Holiday tunes jingled in the air and the winter chill made your nose run. You bundled yourself deeper in a scarf as you and Madara made your way across the parking lot into the mall.
The atmosphere inside was electric. People swarmed everywhere, the first time they were permitted to shop and celebrate without restriction in two years. Holiday lights and décor flashed. The exhilaration rubbed off on you too. You were just happy to be out and about, not needing to worry about your usual woes right now. Not when there was so much going well in your life at the moment.
You grinned at Madara and grabbed his arm before you knew what you were doing.
“What did you need to get? Is it for a work acquaintance? Maybe I can help?” You battered the man with questions.
Madara smiled lightly at you, his expression going tender. He knew you didn’t realize you were almost dragging him along by the arm. “It’s actually for Izuna. I was thinking of a wool trench coat for him. He doesn’t like the cold either, surprisingly.”
You agreed to help with the search for Izuna’s gift, glad he was fully recovered. You’d learned through your prior conversations with Madara that Izuna was as obnoxious as ever, perhaps even worse than he was before the car accident when he was struck. Apparently Izuna took his recovery as a sign he must have been doing something right. Laughing at Madara’s recollections of Izuna’s troublesome adventures, you arrived at the store Madara had in mind.
You made Madara try on several coats for you even if he already had Izuna’s measurements. You hummed and hah’ed and had him turn to different angles for you. You were having so much fun. Eventually, you and Madara decided on a traditional tan coat that reached the knees. Classic, but posh.
As you strolled the mall, your hands brushed the back of Madara’s multiple times. His fingers slid against yours to grasp your thumb and forefinger, then came around to delicately wrap around your hand when you didn’t shrink from him.
You bought leather gloves for your dad, the gift for your mom already taken care of. He preferred a thinner material so he can grip the steering wheel better when driving, you remembered. You made Madara ‘model’ for those gloves too, roughly estimating the size your dad will require based on Madara’s hands.
Madara’s hand sought yours again as you walked. Feeling good about yourself, you laced your fingers through his. There were toddlers screeching in the background as they were forced to take photos with Santa by their parents, but it didn’t distract either of you. You could feel Madara’s fingers slightly twitching as he discreetly memorized your hand with his touch.
Something shiny caught his eye and he turned, bringing you with him. Sitting there in the display was a gorgeous necklace, several fat rubies in the center each surrounded by a halo of smaller jewels. They were set into a dainty loop of gold. “Do you like that Y/N?” He asked you.
Realization dawned on you, but by then, Madara was already leading the way in.
Omg you were so stupid! A sales representative bounded over immediately to assist, and Madara requested for that necklace for you to try.
You didn’t think of Madara as a “sugar daddy,” but what was he to assume when you agreed to a shopping trip with him?! You were mind-boggled. You couldn’t accept such a gift from him.
“Madara stop. I can’t. I don’t even wear jewelry. All I do is go to school or work. Or stay home. When would I even wear something like this? It doesn’t suit me.” You tried to reason with him.
He frowned. It was stunning on you. The neckpiece wasn’t your Christmas gift. He felt like buying it when you two happened upon it because he thought it’d suit you. What was the point of possessing such deep coffers if he rarely spent any of it for himself? He wanted to gift you pretty things. He also wanted to provide for you.
“Y/N, you don’t need to wear it frequently, but please have it. It’s beautiful on you.”
“You don’t understand Madara, I can’t accept such a valuable gift from you!”
“Do you not like it?”
“It is gorgeous of course, but—“
“Then there shouldn’t be an issue. Y/N, I want to, for you. It would be my honour if you accepted it.”
What do you say to that? You didn’t know. Madara nodded to the salesperson to complete the transaction and took you away.
---------------
You were subdued once again in the car, feeling unsure. What were you, a perfectly normal woman, doing with someone like Madara? Someone who can toss around cash values with more zeros attached than you’ll ever see like it was nothing? You were leagues apart. Worlds apart actually.
Madara sighed as he drove to yours. He took your hand and squeezed. He tried to express what he felt earlier. As he got to know you over the past months, all he felt was a deep goodness in you. He had come to care for you deeply. Even seeing you at your weakest only drove his compulsion to look after you and made him yearn to see you again. He understood the feeling of being so raw it brought you to your knees, like everything was falling apart. He didn’t think any less of you for it.
What would you think if you knew he bought clothes for you too, now stashed at his penthouse? Several articles of clothing he estimated were of your size so if you stayed overnight again, you’d have something more suitable to wear.
“When I’m with you, I’m just ‘Madara,’” he began. “We are equals.”
You looked to him in shock. “What?”
“I’ve seen inside you to who you truly are already.”
“Umm…I’m not sure what to say to that. That night when I cried isn’t how I normally am.”
Madara was frustrated with himself, feeling like he was talking in circles. He tried again. “What I’m saying is, I would like to be with you, if you will have me.”
You were reasonably sure your eyes couldn’t open any wider. “……I like you too…” You glanced away from him, now that you were pulling towards the visitors’ parking at your place. “But you can’t keep lavishing me with expensive gifts like you did today. I won’t have them!”
Madara was so relieved, he conceded. Somewhat. He smiled. “Then I will refrain from spoiling you excessively.”
You liked him. And wanted to be with him too. That was a good enough start for him.
---------------
You hadn’t known what to get Madara for a birthday and Christmas present or where to take him out to. He can buy everything himself already. So you decided to invite him for dinner at home. If it was extra special and you put much more effort into the meal, you figured he wouldn’t mind if you combined the two occasions.
Your small home was decorated with lights and a small tree, which was also layered with strings of lights and ornaments. Red and white pieces accented the space in various ways.
The first thing Madara noticed upon stepping inside was the fragrance. It was a complex mixture of florals, chocolate, and vanilla, but not overpowering. Then he noticed the plants. Dozens upon dozens of pots of exotic blooms filled the window and console tables. Some resembled elegant spiders locked in a row. There was one that only had a single reddish-orange flower, which looked like a butterfly. A monstrous plant exploding with small colourful blooms, like dancing ladies. That was part of where the smell came from.
“Hehe. I like orchids a lot, as you can see. When you have enough of them, there’ll always be something in bloom.” You were tremendously proud of your collection. You spent so much time and effort caring for your babies. You brought Madara for a quick tour around your small condo, exuberantly telling him snippets about several specific plants, showing him your bedroom and the second bedroom that also doubled as a den, informing him of your plans to personalize your home more in the future.
He silently took note of your interest in these plants and he studied several more closely. He acknowledged your hobby lent the space a serene, natural feeling. He was at ease here.
“They are beautiful, Y/N. How many do you have?”
“I have around 30-something adult plants right now! Plus the ones under grow lights in the bedroom!” You brought him back to the living room, the walls dotted with several framed paintings of still life you did years ago. Those were excellent too.
“Have a seat! Would you like something to drink? I have options other than wine too.” Still you referenced your blunder on your first date.
Madara smiled fondly and accepted a cocktail you whipped up for him. You owned a collection of proper barware. Seating him on the couch, you returned to the kitchen to finish cooking the dishes you prepared for earlier.
You bustled around the kitchen confidently, chopping extra ingredients, searing some meat, adding extra spices to a pot, artfully plating the dishes, the faucet turning on and off between steps. Madara discreetly watched you as he sipped his drink. You were joyously humming a holiday tune before randomly switching to sing a top-40s pop song. He marveled at the normalcy of being with you. It was extraordinary to him and he loved every moment of this.
Feeling like an addict craving more of your light, Madara came up behind you as you worked and embraced you. You froze. Madara was so warm. Like a furnace was searing you from the outside. Or did you turn the heat on too high? Maybe it was the stove, but it was getting hot.
“Madara?”
He mumbled something about needing this against the back of your head before releasing you and returning to his seat, leaving you perplexed.
“Umm…I’m almost done cooking. We can eat soon.” You went to open the window for some fresh air, hoping the winter chill will help alleviate your reddened cheeks. Darn your traitorous skin tone for revealing those emotions so easily.
“Take your time. There’s no rush.” Madara was a patient man. He can wait.
---------------
“As you told me that time on the phone, about that long-haired man you liked calling a buffoon. You told him off saying he was causing too many issues with his idealistic idiocy. I had something similar happen for me recently at the hospital too, with a family member.” Dinner was ready, many dishes littering the table, and you were excited for Madara to try your food.
“Hn? I didn’t say that,” Madara denied.
“You did! Those were almost your exact words. At least you said you did.” You laid the final dish on the dining table and invited Madara to join you.
“I wouldn’t speak so crudely, not in front of a client or a business partner.” He knew exactly who you were currently referring to.
“Eh. This is why I prefer texting. You usually insist on conversing over the phone, but I would be pulling up the evidence of what you said right now if we had this discussion over our messages.” You harrumphed at him.
“Texting is no way to have a proper conversation. I still don’t understand why you favour it.” He spooned a large piece of butter and garlic roasted lamb and eggplants, seasoned with herbs and a truffle-infused balsamic vinegar, onto his plate.
You looked at Madara like he was an alien. “Because I can answer at a time that suits me best. And I’d have eternal evidence of the things you said.” And because I can think about my words before I reply so I don’t sound like a complete fool to you.
Madara didn’t look convinced.
You sighed. “I’m a Millennial, it isn’t unusual to prefer texting over speaking live on a call. Actually, you’re a Millennial too.”
“Hn. I am older inside.” He closed his eyes to savour the taste of your cooking.
What an old man, you pondered affectionately.
“A year older now. Happy birthday Madara.”
---------------
“This is for you.” Dinner was over, much of it devoured by Madara, who seemed to truly enjoy what you prepared. He took out a wrapped package and handed it to you.
It was early, but you opened it anyways. It was a beautiful complete set of Japanese handmade Damascus steel knives. Madara’s company made blades, among other things, and these were top of the line. They were stunning. The waving patterns on the blades mesmerized you, the wooden handle graceful, and the feel in your hands was balanced perfection. You’d be using these extensively in the kitchen.
You teased him, "Are you already trying to invite yourself over for more of my cooking?"
He frowned. That wasn’t the intention of his gift at all. Based on what he learned about you, including your love for cooking, he thought you’d enjoy a more practical gift like quality knives than the jewelry he bought you today.
You snickered and let him off the hook. “I’m only joking Madara! Don’t be so serious! I love these. Thank you for such a thoughtful present.” You held the boxed set close to you. “I will use them every day. And you are invited to come for a meal again.”
He was quiet when he gazed at you again, pleased you adored your gift. And glad you were comfortable enough to jest with him. “You’re welcome,” he replied simply.
You led him to the couch for a movie of his choice after refilling your beverages. Madara honestly didn’t care what you watched tonight, but he selected something to humour you. When you extinguished the lights, he spent more time watching you watch the movie than he paid attention to the plot. It was dark, but his eyesight had always been good, and with the screen light, he was able to observe you well enough. You jolted at certain scenes, the jump scares so ridiculous anyone should have predicted something coming. Your eyebrows popped up before smoothing back to their original position.
You crept closer to him as the movie played, your posture rigid. Madara leaned into the couch, shifting his weight so he was also closer to you. He put an arm around your shoulder, but you were too distracted with scaring yourself silly to notice. A jarring scream boomed and you lurched, crumpling against Madara’s side as you continued to stare at the screen with horrified wide eyes through splayed fingers.
Madara would have laughed at your useless visual barrier if he’d been in his right mind. He bent down, tilted your face, and kissed you.
HUH?! One instant, you were freaked out over some un-killable ninja zombies with superpowers. The next, you were just as stupefied to be locking your lips flush with Madara’s. He brought a hand up to cup your face and rub his thumb to your cheek, his soft lips staying in place over yours.
The kiss went straight to his pants. He turned more and wrapped his arm around you, wanting you close, yet trying to keep the kiss chaste. Madara reminded himself to be a gentleman and not to let his hand wander from your waist. You felt something stiff poking into your thigh and you tense, pulling your leg slightly away while your lips stayed connected. He pecked you several times before taking your bottom lip between his again, running his tongue over it and suckling.
With your foreheads touching, you ran an uncertain hand down his chest, tentatively tracing a finger down the front of his pants with the lightest of touches. You pressed your thighs together. Madara chuckled.
"I will wait for you," he said.
---------------
Madara returned home. He settled into his bed while thinking back on you. You were radiant, beaming at him in hospitality, dressed as comfortably as you could be in sweatpants and t-shirt.
You’d never been so relaxed around him before. You had been buzzing around your home, expertly pulling different ingredients and tools from their assigned spots to create magnificent dishes for him while chattering and humming your favourite songs. You were so eager to be an excellent hostess; to ensure he was comfortable as well.
You were adorable. He leaned into his pillows, picturing your earnest smile as his hand travelled over his flat stomach. Further south. He palmed himself. And yet you were shy when you kissed. He could still taste you when you tensed and your eyes opened in surprise. You tasted like honey. So sweet and delectable.
He imagined you beneath him, with the buttons and ties on your clothing loose, hair sprawled over the pillows in his bed. It was glorious.
Madara tugged himself in languid strokes with only his thumb and first two fingers around the top and underside of his shaft. He resisted the urge to fist his member and pump hard, preferring to savour the image of you in his mind. He stroked your belly under the shirt, your clothes came off. He was inside your hot, wet cavern, your moans echoing through the bedroom as he made you his.
He spilled himself into his foreskin, holding it shut with his index finger and thumb to contain his release. His fluid flooded the small space, warming his sensitive head and giving him another buzz. Some of the bountiful load escaped his fingers’ confinement and seeped from the loose skin, oozing down his cock.
Madara couldn’t wait to see you again. He was determined to make this work.
~To be continued~
---------------
Notes:
Madara is an intensely private person in my mind, and quite easy-going as well with his loved ones. He prefers quiet places, like home. To him, a great time is time spent with those he cares about. He would not enjoy receiving a lavish gift in return. A gift that the person (S/O, family, or anyone he cares for) spent time creating with him in mind, like a special dinner, is much more meaningful to him, especially when it can be shared. He loves stuff like that, spending quality time and/or doing activities together.
As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:
I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you
I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you
I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you
I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase
I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all
I love you
Gods are not Meant to be Bound
Art posted with permission from the incredibly talented @lesyarei7. Thank you for making my mind run! 💖
Distracted and horny for Madara again. Pure Madara x Fem!Reader smut inspired by the image above.
He was the one who was bound, but it felt as if you were the prey. You were the one trapped with him.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW. Light bondage, brat taming, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, creampie, mentions of blood and violence (This is fiction. Seriously, don’t have sex with multiple strangers’ blood all over you). Madara is a dom, he loves his Reader. No abuse or degradation.
Words:2801 On AO3
"I will have you again." Madara's whisper tickled your ears and shot to your crotch as he hungrily grabbed your hips and pulled you to him. He rolled against you in promise of what's to come. Your pussy clenched. ALREADY?! You were still sore from earlier. Your mind screamed in horrified excitement. You loved when he got ravenous for you, but my goodness, this man could be insatiable.
He kneaded your fleshy ass with both hands and groaned, deft digits on one hand coming back around to rub against the fabric of your panties. Velvet lips meeting yours, he suckled lightly at your mouth before entering immediately to claim what was his. Your tongues fought briefly until he dominated, pushing yours aside in his exploration. He ate each of your moans. By the time you finally broke apart, you were breathless from his ministrations.
“You weren’t supposed to be here.” Madara stared at you, his disapproval as clear as if it were still day.
“I had to come back to help with the cleanup. You did such a thorough job earlier,” you replied in frustration. Blood still remained all over the walls, even if the bodies were now removed. You knew Madara would follow you back here.
“How foolish to return. It seems you haven’t learned anything today.”
“Today I learned you’ll always appear in dramatic fashion to make a complete mess of things!” You rolled your eyes.
Madara stepped even closer and you raised your arm between you in feeble defence. He was still petting your crotch in tight circles through your underwear, a damp spot having already blossomed. “To protect you. What do you think would have happened if I hadn’t come? If must make another mess—”
His face was close. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he devoured you with his gaze.
“—I’ll just have to teach you again.” He pressed hard against your crotch, fingers slipping under the thin moist cloth and tracing around your nub. Your legs tensed, but you looked up at him in defiance.
“I like learning.” Especially when the lessons were with Madara. You could tell he was extremely angry with you despite his arousal.
“Hn you won’t forget this time. I shall make a mess of you."
You shuddered, kissing him again to make your man shut up and running your hands down his waist and across defined abs. Such a deliciously strong body. You could feel his strength radiating and filling the space as you pressed against him. Still his hand rubbed your clit while the other took greedy handfuls from your hip and butt. A finger delved inside to test your depths.
You felt your blood sizzle under his gaze. It was like he saw through you. You cracked. Everything was suddenly too much –the way he consumed you with his eyes, the way he touched you, the sinful words that fell from his mouth. You shoved him back to his surprise. "Too much! Y-you can't talk to me like t-that, and look at me like that, and touch me like that all at the same time!" You looked up at him with wide eyes, panting and flushed.
“I thought class was in session.” Madara came back to you with mirth tilting his lips up.
“I’m not the one who needs a lesson! You should be taught about use of excessive force!”
“Still such a mouth on you. There are better uses for your mouth Y/N.”
Challenge accepted.
Irritation building to a high, you pressed against his chest, nudging him in a backwards dance until his back touched the wall. You held up one of his arms and carefully bound his wrist to a handcuff you'd placed there previously.
Madara was curious. Your placement of the restraints was so slow he could have broken out easily, or even stopped you from applying them to begin with, but he complied for now. He enjoyed when you got feisty. You applied the cuff to his other wrist and stepped back to look at your handiwork while Madara likewise studied you.
Unhappy with the way you always felt naked even while fully clothed with Madara, you yanked up his shirt and left it behind his neck. It was your turn to ogle him. His skin was porcelain, chest thick with muscle, and his biceps solid. You ran your hands up his arms and squeezed those big biceps, giggling when he flexed for you. They were much too large for your hands to close around and you hummed in appreciation. Small scars littered Madara’s body, evidence of the difficult life he led. Dried blood that had seeped through his shirt still caked his shoulders and upper arms from the fight this morning. Your eyes trailed over perfectly sculpted abs, tracking a dusting of black hair under his navel that crept down and disappeared under dark purple trousers. You reached out to touch him again, tracing slender fingers over the tattoo on his left pec that curled around to his side. A tiger. How fitting. Madara was absolutely the ferocious and elegant beast who knew he was the biggest cat around.
Madara leered down at you imperiously. "Like what you see?" Carved in the likeness of a god, his presence really did occupy the entire area. It was stifling.
You flushed. He was the one who was bound, but it felt as if you were the prey.
You growled at him, annoyed at how he gets you flustered so easily. You brought out a blindfold and slipped it over Madara's obsidian eyes so he couldn't keep doing what he does with his gaze. Madara chuckled darkly. He couldn't be more amused with your attempts to contain him.
Time for you to get to work. You cupped him through his pants, tracing the long outline bulging through. It was already firm to touch. You pressed harder against him, the heat from your hand transferring through the pants and warming Madara’s cock. It was so girthy. Your mouth watered and you decided you played enough. It was time for dinner anyways.
You tugged down the trousers, but was a bit too late. Distracted by your own arousal, you didn’t react in time to dodge the heavy weapon that sprang out and slapped you in the face, leaving a trail of moisture on your cheek.
Precum!
“Seems like someone else is needy tonight.” You snickered at him. Madara was beautiful, with his arms bound, blindfolded, his hard shaft hanging out dripping pre. So stoic, but his other head betrayed his need. You were so hungry for him too.
Flicking your tongue out to test his flavour, you moaned. Delicious. You flickered repeatedly at his shiny, sensitive glans before digging into the slit. You rubbed yourself under your skirt with one hand, the other coming up to grasp Madara.
You massaged his cock while you nursed on him for some time, until you pulled his skin over the crown and tugged at it with your lips, slipping a thumb under his foreskin to tickle his head. You dragged his skin back to retract it all the way before bringing the hood up again. Mmm this is nature’s most fun toy. Taking a breath to prepare yourself, you relaxed your throat to take Madara all the way until you gagged.
Not there yet. You looked up at Madara through watery eyes. His lips were in a taut thin line, his body tense, keeping his composure by taking long, even breaths. If you could see him completely, you knew his brows would be furrowed as he watched you intently.
In truth, Madara’s shaft didn’t taste much. If you had to describe it, it would be a fleshy flavour. It was a thick, steel rod with a slightly musky scent covered in silken skin. The texture drove you nuts. Your nose touched his soft bed of pubes and you tried to inhale Madara again like an addict, only to be reminded you couldn’t breathe properly with him down your throat.
You wriggled the tip of your tongue against the spot where his dick ended and balls began, making Madara hiss. Pleased with yourself, your stretched your tongue as far as it could to lick at the uppermost part of his sack while your fingertips on the other hand drummed lightly on the orbs. Dragging your tongue to the underside of the shaft, you groaned again as you shoved three fingers up your empty hole. The soreness was forgotten for the time being, only the most satisfying stretch registering in your depraved mind.
Your gags and soft moans reverberated through Madara’s cock. “If you’re this hungry, you should come take it and sate yourself.” Finally finishing your feast, you squeezed this sturdy thigh and stood as you remembered you too needed to breathe.
Wiping the back of your mouth, you crept back up while inhaling his virile male scent, leaving small kisses along his belly and chest and teasing his nipples. You licked his collarbone and gave him a peck when you arrived back at his lips.
“No one was asking for your opinion, love. I should have brought a gag for you,” you quipped.
Madara laughed, thoroughly enjoying how this night was playing out. You turned to face your rear towards Madara. Lining yourself up, you mounted him, hot shaft entering inch by agonizing inch. You groaned, your king was so THICK, the stretch monstrous against your abused walls. You wondered if despite your wet walls weeping for his cock you'd be able to walk later.
Madara activated his Sharingan. It wasn't perfect through the blindfold, but the combination of his Sensing and bloodline let him 'see' you more than adequately.
At last, the heavy scrotum full of potent seed met your inner lips' hug. You flexed and relaxed your muscles to massage your lover's member, loving the sensation of fullness. Heat built in your core the longer you stayed seated.
Breathing deeply, you started the rhythmic dance, rolling back against his shaft slowly. His smooth head gently bumped against your cervix, making you sigh in satisfaction. You went at a steady pace you enjoyed, humming and tilting your hips to gain a better angle within your honey pot.
As he observed you, Madara could feel his sack steadily drawing up. What a sight, having you take your pleasure from him while he was ‘restrained,’ your skirt thrown up over your back and panties pushed to the side as you moved against him. He bucked hard into you, almost toppling you over with the intensity of his thrust, and you squawked, wishing you had something to hold onto. You put your hands on your knees to steady yourself against Madara’s sudden wild rutting against your cervix, your snatch throbbing in spite of her natural lubrication.
"Ah- ah -AH!" You cried, "MADARA, PLEASE not so hard! Softly!"
Madara murmured, "What’s wrong Y/N? Can't handle me?" Once you got him started, Madara would fuck you anywhere, even out here. “Silly woman. Did you forget I still have use of my legs?” And his hips too. He shoved forcefully to remind you.
"Shut your mouth!" You gasped, gritting your teeth. Did he forget what he did to you only this morning?! "This is all your fault!"
“I remember of course. You did well earlier. Hn, you brought it upon yourself, but I shall make it up to you." He slowed his frenzied thrusting to a gentle roll of his hips, until he decided he made the rules. Your frantic mind registered metallic creaking and a SNAP. Madara had casually broken the bonds and wrested off the cuffs. He palmed your breasts, groping them, then pulled you up to him by the tits. He tilted your chin to face him, lightly running his soft lips against your cheek.
Only this morning, Madara punished your pussy severely. For recklessly putting yourself at risk, he said. You eyed the scenery around you. The bodies were gone, but the blood of those enemies still painted the walls behind metal bars. There had been at least 20 enemy shinobi. You were holding them off well enough and trying to escape, when suddenly the surroundings exploded and you found everyone dead. Basically everything was destroyed in the vicinity except you. Madara. He brought you back to the compound and spent the morning reaffirming that you were in fact alive and safe there with him. And teaching you a lesson.
“Kitten, you thought you could hold me?" He cooed gleefully at you. No you didn't. In fact, you didn't think the measly handcuffs would have contained even the most mediocre of shinobi without restraining seals, let alone a legend like Madara. But you had wanted to hold him back somehow. The cuffs were kind of meant to be Just an Innocent Joke! It seemed you ended up exciting him more. Oh no. The ‘danger’ was here with him.
He crowded you as you attempted to back away in alarm. The thought of needing to run crossed your mind as Madara stalked you with a hidden predatory gleam in his eyes until you hit the wall yourself. Madara towered over you. You were the one trapped with him. You quivered in anticipation.
Madara pressed you to the wall, reaching below your waistline to rip off your panties and take a whiff of the crotch. Hn such a silly piece of clothing. He shoved your ruined underwear in his pocket.
He scented your hair and kissed your forehead. Then rubbing his cheek against yours, he picked you up by the back of your thighs and sat you on his cock. He effortlessly bounced you on him, wet hips slapping as he held and fucked you leisurely against the wall.
“I told you before I would take care of you,” he whispered while licking at your exposed neck. Madara was exceptionally hard. You flexed your inner muscles to feel him better and whimpered.
Something about this animalistic coupling got to you too. Here you were, grounded by nothing except Madara holding you against him while he shoved himself into you. You clung to his shoulders and waist, your juices sliding down his cock. You could hear the crude squelching loudly in this space that used to be an alley. You were delirious with need, loving the crazed snarl plastered on Madara's face as you gave yourself to him and he struggled to control himself. His pace quickened as he watched you possessively from behind the blindfold. Your head lolled back. You held him tightly around the nape and clutched his hair.
"Harder!" You keened.
Madara continued to stand there, tirelessly bobbing you up and down. Your weight was negligible to him. It was his turn to take his pleasure from your body as though he were using his sex doll.
"Softer, harder, which is it? Do you want me?" What a tease.
Blushing furiously, you screamed, "Ahhh! Please harder! More!"
"Try again. I know you can be more polite than that." He pulled out until just the tip remained inside.
You clenched your eyes and begged, "Please take me hard Madara. Please give me more of you."
Madara’s hips smashed against yours and he growled, burying your back into the wall repeatedly. You moaned and sobbed and begged for more as you held on for dear life. The experience became overwhelming and you creamed yourself on his cock. Madara fully planned on ravishing you completely. He pounded you until he went rigid and flooded you with cum, rocking you against him as he devoured your lips again. You removed the blindfold and cupped his face in your hands, kissing him back while he spent himself. He looked much more relaxed now, his features were younger and almost boyish. You loved this man and everything he was.
Crimson irises studied you lazily in return. You nipped him on the nose and he chortled heartily. Feeling safe and content in his embrace, you went limp and welcomed Madara's tenderness after the rough ride. It was time to go back for dinner. He carried you home to the washroom and started running the bath as you huddled against him, his warm batter leaking down your thighs the entire time.
It didn't matter how many times Madara took you. Even if your brain told you it was enough, or when your body reminded you of its exhaustion, you wanted to be with your lover. For Madara, you would always bend over to receive him. For Madara, you would always spread your legs again. It was where it was safest and where you were meant to be. Your eyes were heavy after the chaos of the day. Settling against your love, you fell asleep.
~End~
Twin Flames
Read on AO3
Warnings: modern AU, “sugar daddy,” romance, alcohol consumption, eventual smut but smut is not the point, Madara x Nurse!Reader
What was life if not mundane? Until one day he barreled into your life and flipped it over. Nothing will ever be the same. You didn't belong to the same world, but the heart will yearn for what it wants.
-----------------------------------
The idea for this story (which will be part of a larger work) came from after an annoying shift at work when my friends and I were joking about what we were doing with our lives. This should be the most light-hearted part of the series I have in mind. Thinking of Madara as a sugar daddy was hot to me, so I needed to somehow get you to him. By no means am I encouraging anyone to become a sugar baby or glorifying these relationships with inherently unbalanced power dynamics in real life. And definitely don’t do anything potentially unsafe. DNI IF THIS THEME OFFENDS.
Inspiration was also drawn from the beautiful epic song "Star Sky," by the amazing group Two Steps from Hell. It is about two mirror souls reincarnating and finding each other through lifetimes, even if separated from age to age by time and death. The style of music renders the lyrics hard to elucidate, so you may need the lyrics separately on the side to make them out.
Word count: 4596
Chapter 1
You were so pissed after this night shift, everything that could have gone wrong going wrong. It was like the stars tried to align and screw you over. At least it was over, until next time. Fire in your veins, you stomped through the locker room to change. Part of you wanted to scream, while the other wanted to cry. Perhaps doing both wouldn’t be inappropriate either, given the circumstances. You stopped your turbulent rampage, trying to calm yourself so you didn’t slam something.
“Y/N. Let’s go out. We deserve it after all that,” your beloved friend Jasna said.
“Are we day drinking now? Here I was thinking there are still some things we are above doing.”
“Buddy, I meant breakfast. You’re already skipping ahead to tonight.”
You were about to make some sort of excuse to escape any social obligations at this time, but the alternative of going back to your empty home to collapse and bawl your eyes out the moment the door closed, which you knew you were going to do, held equally little appeal. Your stomach growled at you in disapproval, reminding you of your neglect since early yesterday evening.
You sighed, “Fine. Let’s do it. We have to eat sometimes anyways.”
“Hehe! I knew you still had some reason in you after your earlier outbursts!”
----------
Your party of two sat down at your favourite breakfast diner and ordered. Suddenly you were bone tired now that you had a chance to sit. What were you even doing with your life? Day in and day out, the same thing, 'saving people.' Were you even doing that? It was so often just one hopeless case after the other, like keeping bodies ‘alive’ while they slowly flushed themselves down the drain until they finally croaked. Such was nursing. It was soul-crushing work at times. And so meaningless at others.
“—And they even doubled my assignment. ‘It’d be a good double,’ they said. The moment they say that, you know it’s over! I was sent to OR at the beginning of the shift with my first patient while my other guy kept trying to pull his lines out. Luckily he didn’t get to his dialysis line or his central line or it’d be an even bigger disaster!”
Jasna was right. It wasn’t a good double. There are still way worse assignments. Your train wreck of a patient died, and you and whatever help the unit could muster last night spent hours using every resource trying to resuscitate a body you knew was long gone. Your back was STIFF from the CPR.
The workload only ever got heavier with no relief in sight. Only the sense of comradery with your fellow coworkers, especially the best nurses in the world, kept you going. You trusted them to have your back when things spiraled downhill with your patients’ lives and even with your own, if you were ever to end up a patient. They were always the only ones who truly understood when you needed to rant to each other.
Jasna suddenly snorted at you when you made a disparaging comment about her last patient. “Y/N! Shush, don’t let the higher powers hear you!”
“Well fire me then! I DARE THEM!” It was true. The ‘higher powers’ were more desperate for nurses to work than they had nurses wanting to work. “What are we even doing with our lives? We only keep going back because we hate ourselves but we want to see our work friends. And to put some food on the table.”
“If they’d just pay us more instead of themselves, they wouldn’t have half the problems they have. But of course, we just work there and nothing ever makes sense with the administration.”
"What else could we do?” You exhaled in exasperation. “I’m already in school again for my Master’s, but it’s only making things worse. I can’t take as many shifts as I used to.”
“I guess the only option left is to marry rich, ha!"
You rolled your eyes. “Any more sensible suggestions?”
“It’s plenty sensible,” Jasna huffed. “Try a sugar dating site…sometimes a girl needs to eat.”
You got quiet, remembering the trying times of being a nursing student, when between the needs of studying, preparing for exams and assignments, the long hours of clinical placement, and a part-time job, making ends meet was an almost impossible challenge for those without a safety net. Jasna had none, and needed to live, obviously.
“I am too old to be a sugar baby."
"Stop saying that! 29 isn't even old. I'll be your age in a few years." She played at being indignant.
To be honest, Jasna’s situation then was not quite different from your current predicament. Your Master’s of Nursing program was even more expensive than her Bachelor’s. The scholarship covered most of the tuition, but you still had to live. Rent to pay, food, any number of other miscellaneous items. Hospitals wanted more Nurse Practitioners and other specialized nurses, but there was no financial assistance, not when they also needed more nurses to toil at the bedside. With your course workload, even going from full-time to part-time at your current job left you in a rut. Not enough time for school. Not enough time to work and garner wages. You were at an impasse. And so, so tired.
You had no more fire in you for tonight. You sighed, thinking back on when you used dating apps in your early adult days, swimming through countless messages spamming "Hi" or "Baby you're hot, let's fuck" to find one decent message. Clearly nothing came out of it. How disappointing and tedious it all was.
“You’re thinking about it. I can tell.” Jasna gave you a knowing look.
“Nah. As if I want to make more time for something like dating. Clearly, time is what I’m always short on.”
“You do whatever you need to, I’ll be here. You could always just start a profile to check it out.”
The two of you wrapped up your meal and said your goodbyes. Until the next time you worked together again.
You stepped into the shower when you got home, steaming water erasing the grime of the night. The hot water temporarily soothed your worries and eased the tension from your muscles. It felt so good to be out of those dirty scrubs. Finally relaxing, your mind wandered back to your conversation with Jasna. You could just make an account, she was right, and flip through a few profiles. It was the kind of low commitment you could adhere to for awhile. It felt like a lifetime ago since you’ve last been with a man in any capacity.
It will be the same, just expect nothing. If the bar of expectation was already on the ground, there was only ‘up’ to go, so you couldn’t be disappointed, right? And you could just ignore whatever unsavory messages that came your way.
----------
“Brother, you need to go out more. You look more and more like an old man day after day, always so serious and disapproving. Your wrinkles are going to start showing.” A handsome young man stepped into the opulent study, raven hair down, freed from the ties of its usual low ponytail.
“And you need to dedicate yourself less to my extracurriculars, and more to business now that you’re feeling well. There are contracts to be negotiated.” Sharp eyes turned to acknowledge the newcomer to the room. The man at the huge mahogany desk put down his fountainpen, elegant script dancing across the plush papers he worked on.
“I would if you had extracurriculars to speak of. As it is, I feel obligated to arrange activities for you, lest you rupture an aneurysm in your old age and stress.”
“Old age?” He was in his thirties.
Izuna grinned, knowing he was getting under Madara’s skin. And knowing equally well he could get away with things when it came to his stern brother, things that he wouldn’t let slip with others.
Madara was mildly irritated, but he’d play along, for now. Staring down his nose at his brother, he asked, “Hn. Then I’ll amuse you. What do you have planned for this old man which might alleviate his woes?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve always got your best interests at heart. We could set you up for a moonlit dinner date–“
“Out of the question. Why would I suffer the presence of some blathering fool? You should know I haven’t the time for frivolous activities such as—”
“—I even made you a dating profile on this website.”
“You did what?”
His brother, ever the cunning fox, grinned again as if he was feeling sheepish. “You’re now publicly an eligible bachelor looking for a lucky lady friend to spoil on a sugar daddy dating site. Would you like to know your username?”
“…” For once, Madara was at a loss for words. Out of all the ridiculous antics Izuna pulled over the years, never had he done anything on a public platform. They hailed from the Uchiha family for goodness sake. They had an image to maintain, even if not on principle, then at least for the unsullied reputation demanded in their business relationships.
Izuna was starting to sweat. Did he go too far? But this time, it wasn’t just a childish prank. “Look, I even found several excellent potential matches.” He pulled out his phone and booted the app to show Madara.
…It was you.
“Do you see something you like Madara-oniichan?” the brat was trying hard not to let the corners of his lips lift in mirth and failing miserably.
“…I think I should like to put you back in the hospital myself if you’d like to see your nurse so badly.” He glared furiously at his little brother, who was at times more trouble than he was worth. If he could kill with just a glance, Izuna would have combusted on multiple occasions already.
His mind jumped back to those months in the hospital long ago. In retrospect, he wished he got to know you more when he was visiting. But he was so overwhelmed by Izuna's state of injury, he was completely unavailable and nothing would have reached him at the time. Everything began with Izuna. Everything revolved around Izuna, his only remaining living member of family.
There had been a huge healthcare team involved in Izuna's recovery, and multiple units too, though they spent the longest in the ICU. After many months in the ICU, they made it to step-down, then transferred to the wards, and finally months of rehab. It’s been several years since then, and Izuna is finally looking as he did before the incident.
Throughout that time between healthcare facilities and units, Madara recalled countless smart, attractive nurses both young and older, professional despite the mistreatment by patients, families, the administration, and the system itself. You still stood out to him though. You were also pretty, but the way you carried yourself demonstrated you weren't even aware. You were all the more alluring for that.
Professional, competent, and kind. That was how he remembered you. He recalled when you eased him into a corner of the room as his brother died onscreen to explain what everyone was doing, gently reminding him that others in the room couldn’t hear important communication to each other when he screamed. You calmly explained why no one was shocking Izuna when there was no heartbeat, what medications were being given. There was a way of being firm in your demeanor without being disrespectful. You were so attractive to him. Too bad you were his brother's nurse and he wasn't in the headspace to pursue then.
“Just go for her! The worst that could happen is her rejecting your grouchy ass. What if some other lucky man snatches her up first?” Izuna started. "You see yourself? You've been alone for too long. I can't leave you all by yourself if something were to happen to me again."
Izuna had been drugged out of his mind to help control his pain, ventilation, and agitation. When eventually his sedation medications were weaned off and he woke up, he remembered how tender you were with him. Even the small details, where you saturated his wounds with saline before carefully peeling them back so the old dressings wouldn't rip against his healing wound beds. How you so sincerely apologized for each harder tug and each of his winces, as if you were the one hurting.
He was high as a kite, but some things he still remembered. Like how his brother would sometimes watch you as you worked when Izuna himself was a bit more lucid so Madara would be worrying less about him. No one else would have noticed these minute changes in his brother's behaviour, but they didn't escape him.
“You’re lucky brother. It’s this Saturday at 1900.” He pulled Madara out of his reverie.
“Now what? What’s this Saturday?”
“Your date of course. I already contacted her and she agreed to see you.”
A fountainpen flew with speed and embedded itself in a thick wooden door as it slammed shut and a cackling laughter disappeared into the distance.
----------
HOLY SHIT. It's HIM. You knew his name. You knew his face. It was Uchiha Madara, older brother to Izuna.
Every member of staff remembered these two. Izuna was a trauma patient transferred from another hospital for more advanced support after the trauma surgeons were finished with him. The extent of injuries was startling. Izuna was on ECMO to bypass and support his non-functional heart. He was also on every other mode of life support: maxed out on multiple pressors, continuous dialysis, massive transfusions... His survival was a miracle.
You remembered how Madara would come day after day to sit quietly by Izuna's side, sometimes bringing his work. He was polite to the staff despite how gravely ill his brother was, and that by itself already earned him a place in your memory. The only time you recalled an outburst from Madara was the first time Izuna coded and his primary nurse and others successfully brought Izuna back to life while you talked to Madara. Over the course of months, everyone on the staff agreed in the most objective way that these brothers were very fine male specimens.
You were anxious and unsure, but of course you agreed to see him at his invitation.
----------
Madara ambled through his large closet, stocked from floor-to-ceiling with enough finery to dress a king. He pondered several outfits, weighing each option against another. A suit and tie? Much too formal. A nice pair of jeans? He couldn’t run the risk of appearing sloppy. A dress shirt? Possibly. He picked up a few other options to match when he heard a click behind him. The pest was back.
“I know how to dress for a woman. I don’t need your help.”
“Relax. I’m only here to see how you’re doing.” Izuna was enjoying himself. It wasn’t every day one got to see Madara mull over his appearance as he did now.
“Did you need to use such a lame pickup line?”
“It worked! It was perfectly fitting. I thought it was cute.” Izuna picked up a brush and ran it through his brother’s locks, as he used to do when they were younger. With just the two of them left in their family, they had no one else but each other. They would take care of each other.
Madara relaxed back into the strokes, even if his mane was already perfectly brushed through and detangled. “It was bordering the boundaries of good taste.”
“But it applied for both of us. She can’t even accuse of me pretending to be you. Can you at least commend me for my genius? And why are you still here? Don’t you need to pick her up?”
“You were masquerading as me. Milady insisted on meeting directly at the restaurant.”
“You didn’t manage to convince her of otherwise? She’s already playing hard to get? Fantastic. Good luck with your courtship!” Izuna performed an exaggerated, swooshing bow with a toothy smile. He wondered if you might eat his softie of a brother alive if he didn’t accidentally scare you away first. It’d be funny, but he hoped you’d be brave enough to endure cracking through his stubborn outer shell and too kind to make his beloved brother suffer too much.
----------
Just on time! You stepped out of your Uber, treading carefully down the steps in kitten heels to ensure the first thing you did wasn’t to face plant in front of your date. You let the hostess know of the reservation Madara made and followed her to a more private section of the lavish restaurant.
Upon making another turn, you didn’t need to be led anymore. It was quieter, not due to the total lack of other people, but because of him. His presence took up the whole room, like it dragged out all the air and it left you breathless.
He was handsome and well-dressed as always. Faintly patterned navy blue dress shirt fitting snugly, outlining the definition in his arms and chest, dark trousers well-tailored, brown dress shoes tying his look together. He was the picture of elegance. Long fingers lifted a glass of wine to his lips and he sipped as he suddenly turned his gaze towards you. Your mouth ran dry as his eyes roved over your body, carefully taking you in.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it! You were at once extremely self-conscious from the intense scrutiny. Does he like what he sees? You continued your stride towards your destiny, even as a million insecurities bloomed within.
Madara couldn’t look away. His eyes traced your form-fitting black dress, following the lines of your bare legs up to your hips and arms, stopping at a graceful neckline to briefly dip back down to stare at the swell of your breasts. His mouth watered into his glass and he was aware he was being vulgar. He put his wine down before he could drop it and ripped his stare towards your face.
You were dazzling.
He took in your pink face and delicate features enhanced by the lightest touch of makeup. He gave a small genuine smile and pushed out of the cushioned chair.
“Y/N. It’s good to see you again. Thank you for coming.”
“Yes thank you for the invitation. I hope you weren’t waiting long.” What were you supposed to do now? How do you date again? He’s a businessman and talks to important people, important people shake hands, right?
You extend your hand towards him in greeting and add, “It’s good to see you again too.”
Madara chuckled and took your hand in his paw, brushing the backs of your fingers with his thumb before bringing your hand up and pressing his lips to the back.
“No, not long at all. I arrived shortly before you did,” he lied.
Lips parting in shock, you froze. This was not the reception you expected! The useless software in your brain ground to a halt, leaving you at a loss for what to do. Seeing your pause, he chuckled deeply again, the sound going straight to warming your face further, and he pulled out the chair for you, already the perfect gentleman. “I apologize if I was too forward.”
You were already flustered and the date had just begun. You gulped and almost uttered a short prayer to yourself to wish for strength. “Umm, no, we’re okay.” You quickly sat down, as if afraid you might fall over after all and looked away to admire the decor. There were thick silver curtains draped intermittently along the walls, chandeliers setting the mood from high ceilings, everything highlighting the centerpiece of the room, the baby grand piano. It was a gorgeous establishment.
He went around the other chair to present you with a masterfully crafted bouquet of fresh, exotic florals. “This is for you.”
When was the last time you received flowers? You were aware of this date originating from a sugar daddy/baby dynamic and Madara was just playing the part, but you still couldn’t help being slightly flattered. “Thank you. They are beautiful.” You accepted the gift and took a sniff of a particularly large bloom and smiled at Madara.
“Good evening ma’am. How are you? My name is Carlos and I’ll be your server tonight. Could I start you off with something to drink?”
“Yes,” you answered a bit too fast and eagerly. Heavens knew you needed something to give you liquid courage. The words barely registered as you looked over the drink menu before ordering the first thing that sounded good. Carlos paused at your request, but ultimately repeated your order before disappearing. Madara was looking at you thoughtfully.
“How have you been?” You asked him.
“It’s more of the usual business. Deals to negotiate, meetings, paperwork. It’s rather unexciting to talk about me. How have you been these past years?” Madara’s reply was brief, curt. He had his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table as he scowled with eyebrows furrowed.
Thinking of the Senju and how Tobirama tried to press him in negotiations only this morning left a foul taste in his mouth. Izuna was the one who was the wordsmith and would never lose to a Senju when it came to creating contracts. But Izuna was only recently back in the game and his priorities were backwards. The first thing he did was set Madara up on a date instead of dealing with Tobirama. No matter. With Izuna by his side again, things will take a turn for the better. The date.
He looked up to see you quiet and staring back at him with wide eyes. Shit. He forced his face into a more neutral expression.
“Here is the white wine you ordered ma’am. It is a French wine from the region of Alsace. It starts with notes of orange blossom and honeyed orchard fruits before building into a richer flavour on the palate. It is a delight.”
You eyed Madara’s glass, then looked over the table and groaned. Madara was already drinking wine. And there was already a bottle of opened wine at your table. Great. Now he thinks I’m a bumbling idiot and a drunkard.
“We could use a second bottle at our table, right? I could drink that,” you deadpanned and grabbed your glass, swirling it quickly before tipping it back. “Delicious.” You take hold of the dinner menu to start studying it, still too flustered to be ready to try talking to Madara again. Madara kept a straight face even if he was crestfallen at your anxiety.
This wasn’t going well anymore. Madara cursed himself. He thought they started off alright, but now? He was used to people being nervous in his presence, but he didn’t want you to be so stressed around him. You looked to him like you wanted to run or melt into the scenery. It didn't feel right. He tried to open himself up and appear softer. He uncrossed his arms.
“Don’t worry about the wine, Y/N.”
Should you not? He looked so disapproving and judgmental. You knew some wine was nothing to a man of Madara’s status, but still, you didn’t want to keep embarrassing yourself. You licked your lips when his eyes stayed focused on you.
“I won’t. I could drink that, as I said.” You resisted the urge to face palm yourself, disbelieving of how you just told a man you’re seeing for the first time in years you drink bottles of wine by yourself. Guess who isn’t getting a follow-up date?
He chuckled again deeply in his chest and you wanted to die at how he kept laughing at you. “Let’s get something to eat first,” he said. The two of you resumed your study of the dinner menus and placed your orders.
Madara watched you again, unhappy at your squirming under his gaze.
“It’s been a long time. How have you been, Y/N?” Hopefully talking about yourself, a more familiar topic, would help ease your nerves. He read that in a psychology book long ago.
“You know, still working at the same hospital. Same annoying problems. I went part-time recently since starting my Master’s.” You hoped he didn’t notice your use of the word “annoying.” It wasn’t like you were calling his brother, a former patient, an “annoying problem.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, to make more time for school. I think I want to leave the bedside and get more specialized so I can either teach or become an NP instead.”
He was happy for you. He’d always respected those who had goals and tried to make more of themselves in life. He was genuinely interested in what you had planned for yourself. He sat back in his seat and asked, “That is fantastic news. How do you like your program so far?”
You and Madara continued to make pleasant conversation. Madara was incredibly interested in what you’ve been up to the past years, but he tried not to let his curiosity sound like an interrogation. He was relieved as you appeared increasingly relaxed as dinner went on.
As the meal came to an end, you declined dessert, stating you were already full. Madara went to get the bill, even if you resisted, stating you will pay for yourself. He dissuaded you of such a notion before completing the transaction, leaving you mildly distraught.
“Come. I will bring you home.” Madara smiled warmly at you and offered his arm, observing as you stepped gingerly down the stairs outside the venue while using him as support, ensuring you wouldn’t trip. He opened the door on your side to his fancy car and closed it after you.
You were both quiet in his car, you fidgeting with the hem of your dress and not looking at him, returning to your previously skittish state. Madara was hyperaware of your presence. You really weren't aware of the effect you had on men around you. Even during dinner, multiple men looked your way to bask in your beauty and grace. While he was also taken in by you, all of you and not just your appearance, he wasn’t anxious himself. He wished you wouldn’t be nervous around him –you had nothing to worry about when you were with him.
He pulled up to the drop-off at your condo.
“Thank you for tonight. I haven’t had such a pleasant time in a long while.” His time was filled with either work, managing Izuna, or merely by himself in peaceful tranquility. Madara was sincere.
“Thank you again for inviting me. You were wonderful.” He really was. Despite your blunders, Madara had been kind the entire night.
You glanced up at him, unsure again, but he looked so dashing you couldn’t help it. Would he let you?
You shyly leaned over towards him and Madara immediately took the invitation. His face was mere inches from yours, when suddenly you chickened out and pecked him on the cheek instead. You wished him goodnight and a safe drive home and scampered away, screaming at yourself and how lame you were as you closed the door to your condo.
Madara stared after you, fingers on his cheek where you were moments ago, at first stunned, then beaming in delight.
My brother’s heart wasn’t the only one that stopped when we saw you.
~To be continued~
-------------------------
Notes:
I tried to capture the discomfort a normal person would feel when first getting to know Madara. He's seriously intimidating! I’d be nervous too if Madara suddenly dropped into my life, even if he wasn’t trying to kill me and was just being a normal guy. Such is Madara’s presence. Way too intense. I also tried to convey how Madara appears differently in front of loved ones like Izuna and a relative stranger, even if he’s already romantically interested. He really doesn’t know how to express himself well, but he tried. He ended up kind of cute in this one.
By the way, the Reader in this story isn’t me. I’m an ICU nurse in real life, so there are aspects to the character’s thoughts that may resemble mine, particularly with regard to the healthcare system. The frustration and anger there is real, given the current healthcare climate. I sincerely hope I didn’t turn anyone away with my ranting. The Reader is more an amalgamation of different real-life nurses in terms of personality, quirks, and life circumstances which hopefully still comes across as somewhat relatable.
It’s much more realistic for a Registered Nurse who needs extra $ to take a gig with a private nursing company than to go looking for a sugar daddy haha, but I wanted us to meet Madara.
Izuna should have died from his injuries due to cardiac arrest/sepsis/multi-organ failure and be missing parts of his limbs from the epinephrine (one of the pressors that would have been used), but this is fiction and I want good things for him and Madara. So Izuna lives. Come on, as if Madara would find himself on a sugar dating site of his own accord. Of course Izuna was involved.
P.S. This is my first time writing a real fanfiction with a plot in over a decade. I guess Madara inspires me. I found this lighter tone a bit hard to write. Please let me know what you think!
On AO3
REQUESTS ARE CLOSED!
This blog features my writing on Madara, Alucard (Hellsing), and now Predator. When I write xReader fanfiction, it will be with a fem!Reader.
There is adult content on this blog. Please heed the warnings.
Master List
Fanfiction
A Love Letter to the King- Worship in the bedroom with Madara and Shippuden references (Complete)
Gods are not Meant to be Bound- Better restraints were required. Madara x Reader pure smut (Complete)
The Gladiator's Ring- A Yautja (Warrior Predator) with a human fetish indulges himself at a sex club (Complete)
The Music of the Night, Alucard (Ultimate) x Reader
A Night for Hunting- Predator/prey, stalker to lover, eventual romance (Ongoing) | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26
Without You- Choosing the Sun over the Nosferatu. Romance, shameless smut (Complete)
His Immortal- At the end of the road, angst, xSenior!Reader (Complete)
(Planned) Queen of the Night- For love, the decision of eternity became a simple one
Protect Me Forever (each installment can be read as standalone)
Twin Flames- modern AU, "sugar daddy"Madara x Nurse!Reader, romance (Complete) | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5
(Planned) In Another Time and Place- historical AU, ImperialJapan!Madara x Chinese!OC, war, very dark
Headcanons
Madara and Romance
Madara and Birth Control
Madara and Non-conventional? Sex
Madara's Off Label Sharingan Use
Madara's Off Label Rinnegan Use
Madara SFW Alphabet
Madara NSFW Alphabet
Complimenting Madara & Alucard's Looks
Alucard's Clothes
Miscellaneous
Answered Asks Masterlist
Madara's Best Friend
Madara vs Kunoichi/Medics
Scenarios
Madara Sharingan Smut
Cat and Mouse with Alucard
'Batman' Alucard Gets His Way
Whatever I write is just my thoughts. Don't take anything too seriously.
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
A Love Letter to the King
Now on AO3!
I’ve been so distracted lately, mind filled with indecent thoughts of the Uchiha patriarch. Needed to get this out and hopefully alleviate my perpetually flooded basement. I present you with my many dirty snippets of fantasy strung together to form a little smutty fiction. This is an attempt to worship Madara in the bedroom.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW. Very descriptive smut, oral sex, kage bunshin no jutsu, group sex, anal sex, double penetration, light bondage, breeding, Madara is a dom, he loves his fem!reader, no abuse or non-consent. My first smut.
Be prepared. Steamy one-shot under the cut. 3070 words
As the last rays of sun filtered through the sheer curtains of your bedroom and died, you twirled your tongue around the silken skin covering Madara’s crown, slipping your tongue under his foreskin and back down again, tickling his sensitive frenulum. Your hands were busy peeling the skin on your man’s cock back and forth, up and down, repeatedly, massaging him, milking him. You inhaled his musky, male scent deeply, humming happily as you took more length down your throat until it hit the back. Taking a huge breath, you swallowed your gag, eyes watering when your nose finally met a soft bed of dark pubes. Steely shaft lodged down your throat, you proudly peeked up at Madara’s handsome visage.
Holy shit. Madara thought, desperately fighting every instinct to grab the back of your head and start fucking. No, he won’t hurt you. Calm down calm down calm down.
You gagged twice as Madara’s rock hard length kicked excitedly in your throat, tears spilling down your cheeks as you found a hand on your jaw that held you back. “Don’t force yourself,” Madara panted. “Are you sure you don’t want a safe word? Hn I will give you one anyways. It’ll be-”
“Hehe I don’t need one. I’m with you after all. I trust you more than anyone. What’s the worst that could happen?” You grinned up at the Uchiha cheekily before going back down, swallowing him whole and moaning. Madara groaned at the electric vibrations shooting through his cock. You sweet summer child.
You took your time worshipping your man with your face buried in his crotch, lapping at the large twin orbs and perineum below, tapping the jewels lightly when the hands gently stroking your face and weaving through your hair tightened. Sucking harder on the inside of his thigh to leave your mark, your hands greedily explored your lover –his sculpted abs, arms and chest thick with muscle, you grabbed his hard ass. You smirked to yourself as you saw Madara’s nuts draw upwards throughout your ministrations.
“Enough.” He grasped your upper arm to walk you away from the window to the bed, to your disagreement. “I’m not done with you yet!” You growled, mustering up your strength to try and wrestle him back into position to slurp up his delicious penis again. Madara’s eyes narrowed despite his amusement at your display, an elegant brow lifting. Plucking you off your feet by the hips, he threw you over a shoulder before striding to the bed and tossing you in. You squawked in indignance, but by then, he was already looming over you, silky tresses forming a curtain framing both your faces. Tonight is not for patience, Madara decided, sinking two fingers into your dripping folds.
“So wet already. Did you think you could stop me?”
You gasped. No matter how many times he took you, you still felt the initial stretch whenever he prepared you for penetration. But it stretched so good. You pushed back against his fingers and held his wrist, fingering yourself through his hand and moaning like a slut as he added a third finger.
“Mmm no. I like this position too. I think I’m getting exactly what I wanted,” you quipped, knowing that trying to boss Madara around would get a reaction out of him.
In response, Madara dipped down and lapped at your slick entrance, thumb applying hard pressure and dragging slowly against your clit. He inhaled and held his breath, savoring the sweet fragrance of your nectar.
“We will see.”
Suddenly the hand and warmth disappeared, only to be replaced by the smooth tip of his shaft, its foreskin fully retracted, completely erect. Madara shoved and hilted himself all at once, your breath leaving you as he immediately started a punishing pace. You were mesmerized by the sight of him rutting above you and the view of the connection point where two became one. You distantly wondered how something so large even fit.
Wrapping your legs around Madara’s waist, you mewled and gyrated upwards to meet his hips, hands hungry to find purchase wherever they could on his body.
“No.” Madara stilled.
Coming back down to Earth, your legs shook, but you obeyed him.
“Good girl.” You gulped at his expression now, dark amusement crinkling the edges of his obsidian eyes as he smiled at you. As he built up a tantalizing rhythm once more, you bravely pondered if you should try and fuck him back again.
Rational thought disappeared as an orgasm washed over you, your walls collapsing and convulsing around your partner, a string of unintelligible words leaving your mouth. You held onto your beloved to ground yourself, needing more –MORE– contact, wrapping your legs around his hips as your hands weaved into his mane.
Madara leered at you in satisfaction as you come undone before him –your back arched and throat exposed. “If you don’t stop squirming, I’ll pull out and leave you like this.” His hand reached for your neck and palmed it. No pressure applied, just him tracing up and down your throat as he grinned at you evilly.
What?! You were incredulous. How could he be so cruel when you were like this? Your jaws dropping and livid while still riding the waves of your release, you wanted nothing more than to slap that smug look off Madara’s stupid face.
“Or perhaps you’d like me to hold you down instead?”
You wanted to scream, but knew Madara would tease you more, so not knowing what else to say or do in this moment with your brain fried, you started crying instead. Witnessing your helpless display, his expression gentled. He was never able to deny you for THAT long. No matter, he could keep this going all night.
Madara bent down and put his weight on you as he grabbed both sides of your rump and pounded you into the mattress, balls slapping against your puckered orifice. To your relief, the new position allowed you to cling to your man as much as you needed. You sighed in contentment, revering his weight squishing you into the mattress, your pussy open and enjoying the onslaught, neither of you noticing the alarming squeals of your bed.
You finally looked at him again, only to find crimson staring hotly back at you, his eyelids peeled back impossibly wide as Madara hungrily drank you in. Were his pupils dilated? That was not a look you've seen before in a Sharingan. You stared back, captivated by his deadly form and unhinged expression. “He’s so beautiful” you thought. “Beautiful and dangerous,” you corrected yourself. But he was entirely yours. You whimpered, brain short-circuiting again as your nerves frayed and skin fried under his scorching treatment. You were simultaneously intimidated and intensely aroused for this man right now, the conflicting emotions boiling over to another orgasm.
Madara grunted and pushed in one last time before spilling his seed inside you. He kissed you hungrily, tongue dominating your mouth as you gave everything to him. The two of you rode your release, Madara slowly rocking against you while coming down from the pleasure, still sheathed within your cock sleeve. He hugged you closely to his chest and caressed the back of your head.
“You okay?” He asked.
You nuzzled against him, face pressed into his chest. “Couldn’t be better.” Your mind buzzed, the experience feeling like you got hit in the head by a meteor or two.
You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, but somewhere along the way, Madara pulled out to lay beside you and continued cradling you like the treasure you were. You smiled to yourself, feeling his length still swollen. You detached yourself from his embrace to expose your ongoing heat as well.
“Madara……please…stop teasing me. Put it back in…” You wailed with your legs split and reached down to spread your vertical lips and show him your drooling pussy. “Please…please…I’m yours, have me.” You were now desperate and not above begging aloud. You needed to be filled up and fucked. You offered yourself again, as if you were paying homage to a god.
How did you go from being terrified of this wonderful man when you first met to this? This wanton, needy mess begging for more of Uchiha Madara’s cock?
“What a view,” Madara breathed out, proud of the sloppy mess he made between your legs. When you got like this, you usually brought out all his soft edges. But not tonight, when he already gave in to your pleading earlier. He had an idea.
“Of course,” he murmured. And like that, the dance continued.
_______________
As you were licking Madara clean of his cum, you relaxed into his gentle petting, ready to pass out in bliss. You gave him a silly smile.
Another set of hands brushed against your thighs, making your eyes snap open. A familiar voice started from yet another direction. “You thought I was finished?” You could only stare in horror as you looked around and discovered four additional pairs of eyes gazing darkly back at you in mirth.
“Ah –ah. Oh God.” No sassy comment came to mind. You were speechless.
“It’s just me, Y/N.” A Madara stepped up to your side to fondle and pinch your breasts. “Five-to-one. It’s the perfect ratio for playing games, don’t you think?”
Your mind melted from too many sets of hands groping you. There was the hand cupping your breast. A mouth on your other breast suckling the nipple. Another set of greedy hands kneaded your ass and seized your hips. A tongue slowly traced its way up your neck, leaving light butterfly kisses at your earlobes. Several fingers were buried in your sopping cunt, pumping.
“Did I already die and go to heaven?”
“I wouldn’t be there with you, love.”
You frowned at his reply as you distantly heard Madara mutter the name of some jutsu, then found your hands restrained. “Eeeeeepp!!!” You squeaked, eyes wide as you realized this time there was nothing you can hold onto as you faced five Madaras.
You were placed on your hands and knees. A hand wandered to your rear end and you felt a cold liquid applied as you were getting spit-roasted by two Madaras. A finger brushed your clit continuously. Feeling overwhelmed and helpless, you pushed back on the organ in your vagina. A finger dipped into your ass and you tensed, but you couldn’t look backwards, not when your mouth was so full and your head held in place.
The Madara in your mouth pulled out from your mouth to tilt your head up at him. He searched your face and eyes, unraveling his sensory abilities, carefully feeling for any hint you didn’t wish for what was to come. He found in you a blazing arousal, yes, but beyond that, utter trust and love. The part of his heart he thought he previously taught to close off ached. Before you, Madara didn’t know his broken heart would be capable of such intense love again after Izuna departed long ago. It made Madara once again feel a devotion that could drive him to insanity. He silently vowed to do better by you this time and protect you forever.
Nimble fingers traced around your rosebud, the touch feather light, as the digit already inside rotated back and forth, twisting, prodding. He beckoned for you to open for him. You were growing weak, unable to prop yourself up any longer without the support of your arms. A Madara chuckled and held you up with one hand on your chest, while an additional digit joining the unyielding one in your butt. You clenched and unclenched, relishing the stretching in your bottom even if you already felt stuffed.
The Madara inside your snatch grunted from your flexing pelvic muscles, the rhythmic contractions milked his member and pushed him over the edge. He withdrew and yet another Madara took his place, this one starting a hard, rapid tempo at once. You abruptly found yourself straddling him, breasts bouncing in his face while Madara #4 (5? You have no idea) positioned himself behind you, head bumping against your anus and pushing steadily.
You drew deep breaths and bore down, attempting to open your hole to ease the entry. Feeling needy, you whined and kissed the Madara under you, the one pummeling your cervix. You licked and nipped at his lower lip, rubbing your forehead against his as tears prickled your vision. The man in your ass bottomed out at last, pausing to give you a chance to adjust to his invasion.
A different Madara came up to your face to offer you his dick and you eagerly sucked it up to pacify yourself. You made an incomprehensible sound as you went into sensory overload from getting stuffed airtight, clenching hard at each of the organs penetrating you. The ass Madara picked up his pace, pulling himself out almost entirely before plunging back where he belonged.
“You feel delectable,” Madara remarked.
And you are divine, you thought back.
You swayed like a rag doll at the mercy of a relentless deity, rocking from being hammered from each angle, loving every moment of it. Your low calls echoed through the room, when a loud CRACK snapped you out of your stupor, gravity causing you to lose balance. Your scream was muffled by a Madara’s tool filling your gullet as you fell backwards.
As expected, none of these shinobi missed a beat. As the vertigo passed, you were suspended in the air by the same two Madara who were in your pelvis, safe from the wreck that was your bed as they continued to bang you from the front and back while standing. A strong set of hands clutched your butt possessively, another set of hands pressed into your hips to hold you up against them. Your legs waved lewdly in the air. Two rods pistoned tirelessly into your molten core, churning butter, what was deposited prior dripping onto the floor, the squelching of fluids obscene.
You eyed the ruins of your furniture and sigh, “Now I need a new bed.”
“Then come sleep in mine.”
Your eyes opened in surprise and you glanced at a Madara off to your side who was running hands down the length of the underside of your leg, carefully brushing the sweaty skin.
“Am I supposed to make the long walk to your house at the end of each day?” You replied weakly, leaning back on your lover and resigning yourself to sleeping on your mattress or couch until you arranged for a new bed frame.
“I’m serious. Come live with me.”
“Hn, I could always come pick you up.” A sharp thrust smacked your backside.
The Madara at your side turned. “She was not addressing you.” He glared viciously at himself. You snickered because of course Madara would argue with himself. But living with him…your tired mind wandered at the suggestion.
Ass Madara glared back at his maker and finished behind you, the original dismissing him in a cloud of smoke. You flailed briefly at the loss in support before he appeared at your rear and slid in easily. Madara groaned lowly as the pleasure his clone experienced rocked his world again. He whispered kind words of affection to you.
“You are mine,” he stated matter-of-factly. This one must be the original.
A translucent blanket of blue enveloped your world, several Susano’o ribs formed to possessively surround you and the remaining clones.
“I will always protect you.”
Within what was supposed to be the most sinister chakra, sandwiched between two Madaras while two more watched or caressed you, there was nowhere safer than in this tempestuous storm god’s embrace. There was nowhere you’d rather be.
“Yes. Yes to everything,” you answered him.
The jutsu restraining your arms vanished at once and you rejoiced in your new freedom. At last you can hold Madara back! You needed to touch him right now. You relaxed, legs entwining around clone Madara’s waist as you turned as much as you could to touch the real one’s face, fingers brushing over his eyebrows. You ran your other hand through his luscious raven strands to lock your fingertips around his nape and kissed him deeply, rolling your hips in a vain attempt to take even more of him.
Red eyes observed your every action, memorizing each minute change in expression with startling clarity.
“Madara, MADARA!“ You chanted his name like a prayer. You peered around at the Madara copies that appeared just as fiercely determined to protect as the original. Your breath hitched in panic. “Please don’t have your clones use Susano’o too! I understand your point!” You exclaimed, extremely worried your other belongings in the small apartment would break from Madara’s flexing.
You suddenly found your situation so ridiculous. Here you were with a broken bed after a long night of carnal activity, still getting railed by multiple copies of the same man inside the protection of his Susano’o. Your love for the only Uchiha Madara washed over you and you sobbed his name as a final orgasm wracked its way through your exhausted body.
---------------
“Spread yourself for me.” Huh? Your legs were already split wide open. Was he trying to break your hips? Possibly, but –oh.
“You are mine, no?” You flushed more, if it was even possible, as you caught on. You wordlessly submitted, tilting your hips to provide a better view, your legs spreading unbelievably wider. Then, parting your inner folds with one hand and pulling your rump apart with the other, you displayed your two open, dripping holes swollen from overuse.
Uchiha Madara studied your salacious exhibit, crimson irises meticulously scanning you from face to rear, eyes stopping at the oozing fluids saturating your nether regions.
"You are stunning," he observed.
He stroked himself before pushing inside once more, the inexplicable urge to claim you coming over him. Hot essence seared your insides and you collapsed like a limp bag of bones, dazed.
The gleaming moonlight illuminated your spent, naked forms tangled in each other. Two souls were one, everything was perfect. Madara wouldn’t trade this for anything.
“I love you,” you whispered.
I love you more, Madara thought, gazing softly at you, lacing his fingers through yours.
You smiled warmly at him. You knew you didn’t need a safe word.
~End~
--------------------------
Umm that got out of hand. This was supposed to be a short smut fic ending after the first round and Madara’s clones popping up so I can laugh at us when we realize how much trouble we’re in. Instead I wrote out the group sex scene. *Face palm*
I headcanon that Madara is a very physical being and isn’t overly talkative during sex, preferring to show his feelings through actions, whether it’s touch or even the way he looks at you. While I believe he’s most vulnerable and most likely to engage in heart-to-heart post-coitus, he’s too overwhelmed by raw emotion at the end of my scene to articulate coherent thought, which was why he doesn’t verbally reply to you. Whatever he says though, he means 100% and he already called you "love" earlier.
Hope you enjoyed this work of love as much I did writing it.
Didn't want to insert a "big balls" joke in the story. Here's a Tengai Shinsei gif to remind us of the actual size of Madara's glorious nuts