Gods Are Not Meant To Be Bound

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- 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.

get you a man who despite his literal decades of practice repressing and hiding his emotions to survive physically cannot hide how smitten he is with you

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

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*

this took me too much work. i hate it