Madara Uchiha

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Original chat is by @senzaiis)

Madara Uchiha wasn’t a good man. He knew that. Divorced, a killer, endless, empty women/flings, an overlord.

Didn’t bother him, either. Being good never got him shit. He’s a Yakuza boss after all, a ghost in the shadows, the most feared man in all of Japan.

But fuck, you? You were good. Too good. Too fucking sweet for someone like him, too polite, too soft-spoken—always looking him in the eye when you said, Mr. Uchiha, like you actually gave a shit about respecting him. You were nice to him. Nobody was fucking nice to him. Could you be anymore his type? He adored you.

You talked to him like he was any other person and he found that refreshing more than he did disrespectful. You memorized his favorite tea order. Learned to cook his favorite dishes. And always fussed over him. Whenever Takashi was out doing God knows what he’d let you sit in his office while he conducted…”business”. God he adores you.

But there was another side to you that made his blood truly sing. You also had a lazy, quiet confidence... a fire. You were sweet, yes, but not a doormat, the claws came out when they needed to.

You? You knew you were the whole package. And you weren't ashamed to show it with grace and elegance. And goddamn...did you drive him to distraction.

That wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was how he wanted you. And fuck, that ass? That bust? Those thighs? That tiny waist? Those hips? Madara had always been a man who appreciated a good shape, and yours? That was goddamn perfection. More beautiful than Aphrodite herself. The way you walked around his mansion, so fucking oblivious (or maybe not) to how he was looking, how his eyes dragged over you thighs, how he watched you bend over to grab something from the fridge (wishing he could fuck your then and there). Your perfume wafting throughout the mansion. Your voice intoxicating his ears like a siren’s song. The goddamn sounds you made late at night, just a wall away, muffled moans and whimpers slipping past your lips while Takashi fucked you.

He shouldn’t have been listening. He knew that. But he did. Every single fucking time (jerked off to it too imagining your tight, wet, heat wrapped around his cock instead).

Madara had told himself it didn’t matter, that you were just some girl Takashi was fucking, that it wasn’t his business. That he needed to stop thinking about how good you’d look with your legs spread for him instead fucking into you til his cum was dripping out that pretty little pussy and down your legs.

You tortured this man for two whole years. Anytime he had a hook up he’d imagine it’s you, completely uncaring of whatever woman he was actually with, often screaming your name as he came (he def. got slapped).

Make no mistake. Madara Uchiha is a possessive man. He didn’t just passively watch you. There were plenty of times he’d pull you into his lap or bite your neck just to mark you to feel like he was marking his territory under the guise of “playful affection”, Takeshi the big dumbass didn’t bat an eye to it.

Then one day, you stopped coming over.

At first, he figured they just had some stupid little fight. Kids always did. But after a week, Madara got curious.

“Where’s Amadea?” he asked Takashi, pouring himself a glass of ridiculously expensive whiskey at the kitchen counter.

Takashi barely looked up from his phone. “Not my girl anymore.”

Madara took a sip of his whiskey, raising a brow. “That so?”

“Yeah.” His son sounded completely unbothered, as if you hadn't been his girlfriend for two fucking years.. “She found out about me and Sayo.”

The words barely even registered before the glass in Madara’s hand shattered.

Takashi blinked, shocked. “Damn, Dad, what the fuck—”

This stupid little fucker had cheated on you? On YOU?

That sweet yet fiery little thing, the only girl Takashi had ever brought around who had fucking mattered, and he tossed you aside like you were nothing?

Madara grinned, slow and sharp, watching blood drip from his fingers.

“Guess it’s my turn” Madara murmured.