A Night For Hunting Ch.22 -Hell On Earth

this took me too much work. i hate it

OMG I'm on the list?! I'm so flattered and happy I could cry!!! Thank you for reading it!😵😭 AND THANK YOU FOR THE OTHER FIC RECOMMENDATIONS!!! 🥰

Babe! Quick question; what are you’re favorite Hellsing fanfics? I need new fics! I’m afraid my well has gone dry😢

You KNOW I'm boutta take this opportunity to plug the homies

If you haven't read Revelations by the homie @neet0 yet, you're missing the fuck out. This fic totally overhauls the Hellsing setting, like, entirely, as well as Alucard's backstory, and turns what you think you know about these characters on their heads. But it's probs my favorite Hellsing fic and also cough cough may or may not have a lil crossover episode situation coming someday in the future featuring our two blorbos....... TL;DR this is a fun read.

You should also definitely be following @ofwraithsandwords with their work Plutonian Sun. Their prose is gorgeous and simply a joy to read.

I'm also really enjoying A Night For Hunting by @madarasgirl - easily my favorite Lulu/Reader fic active right now!

Honestly those are the recent few that have really left a mark on me in terms of extended stories, unless you want raw smutty stuff in which case I dig this, and also this.

EDIT: idk why those last two won't link so I guess we're going without??? EDIT2: fixed lol

'Batman' Alucard Gets His Way

T/W: Alucard (Ultimate) x F!Reader, pure fluff, shape-shifting, yandere, tit pillow, established relationship Words: 699

A cute little scenario popped into my head of living with Alucard while holding a day job at Hellsing and our vampire lover persuades us towards a more nocturnal routine. Feeling so soft for him lately. I promise the fluff I am pumping out for now will only last until my ovaries start speaking up again. ♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢ He said he wouldn't force you into anything. He promised you were allowed to live the life you desired even if you were to be involved with him, but it was a lie all along to reel you in. Your attempts to live a 'normal' daytime life were made impossible by a certain incessant, infuriating vampire.

Chittering met your ears with disagreement and you looked down at the fuzzy black bat nestled within your sweater at the bust with exasperation. He was adorable when sleepy like this, if only he was reasonable while you were at work! "You can't stay for long today, Alu. Once the meeting begins, you'll have to leave."

You caught a glimpse of ruby eyes and felt the muffled rustle of wings against your skin before the creature's eyes fell close.

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Alucard woke to hands tugging him from his nest, your gentle voice reminding him it was time for his exit. His eyes remained shut as he dug his claws deeper into the material of your bra, determined to stay put while surrounded by your scent and warmth, lulled by the comfort of your breathing and heartbeat.

Your voice grew pleading as he fell asleep once more, but he wasn't letting go. Who told you to work this job by day when you should be resting in his coffin with him at this time? It was merely the Hellsing associates. What they thought of him sleeping on you mattered little to him.

You ended up at the meeting that morning with a hand around your clingy bat to support his weight on your chest while countless eyes watched, though they tried –and failed– to pretend as if they were staring elsewhere. You squirmed sheepishly under their gaze as Seras laughed awkwardly and directed the attendees' attention away from her dozing master.

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A fingertip tapped his snout lightly. Your lips showered his forehead and face with affection. The Shadow King floated back to consciousness and he keened to lean into the petting under his chin as he stretched languidly.

"That's enough Alucard, this time you really have to go before the break ends!" He yawned, twin fangs glinting brightly as he settled his little furry body against the softness of your breasts and drifted. Such wonderful warmth. He nuzzled back into your silken skin, his mind clouded with the perfume of your scent swaddling him from all directions.

His peace was broken when you shook him and a low grumble echoed through your mind with displeasure.

That is thrice now that you roused me from my slumber, dear human.

“I am working! You can't just show up and sleep all over me like this! If you wanted proper rest, you should have stayed down in the basement!”

Finally the bat slipped through your shirt and reformed a tall, devilish man in crimson. His eyes were barely open with a half-hearted glower as he towered over you, his movements lethargic. All that sleeping and your lover was still drowsy!

“People are going to think us unprofessional! These are Integra's important allies and you are throwing Hellsing's reputation to the dust!”

The idiot vampire chuckled. "You concern yourself much with the impressions of others. Their opinions are irrelevant."

You huffed. You knew he would reply with something along those lines. Trying again, you told him, “Your actions are reflecting poorly on my performance!” What if you got dismissed? Though working a civilian job would be simpler than putting up with this insolence.

He appeared lost in thought when he unexpectedly relented. “As you wish, little one,” he murmured as he melted away from sight to your relief.

Alucard however remained quietly in your shadows, only causing mischief when any attendee became too unruly, though no one else was aware of his presence.  Settling yourself into the cushy seat again after the exhaustive meeting, you found your bat pawing to get back into your sweater. Did an immortal truly have nothing better to do? Then again, what does Alucard have if not time?

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Such a routine continued frequently until you decided that working another position that aligned your schedule with his nocturnal lifestyle would be easier on everyone's sanity.

~End~

♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢♢

**To be clear, if Alucard wanted to curl up and sleep in my shirt while I work, I’d be sure to somehow stuff a heated blanket up there to give him more comfort. My comfort vampire is welcome to all I have to offer ❤️**

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.

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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.

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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."

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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.

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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~

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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.

Monster boyfriends who fall way harder and deeper than the Darling who fell first. The vows in human relationships cannot compare to the meaning in monster pair bonds. Their utter devotion sweeps you off your feet, it's simply breathtaking.

Hellsing's Captain

Incredible art by ケースワベ【K-SUWABE】 on Twitter

@nuclearforest and @rotten-hearts-sharp-teeth it's your masterpiece fanfics' fault I am thinking so much about this character

a bit late

EVERYBODY SHUT UP AND LEAVE WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING IT'S MADARA'S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!

🥳🥳🥳🥳🥰💕🎂🍰😫

Madara's realistic headcanons

I wasn't sure if people are ready for my realistic headcanons, but finally I just did it. Just in case it's not for everyone.

trigger warning : Involve suicidal thoughts, depression, violence to women and children, panic attack, eroticization of pain, self-hate.

From the time Madara was born Uchiha clan was not anymore a wealthy family. Because of instability, farmers fled combat zone, The lands they owned had become wilderness. Yet they kept their prestige among population and their children still received an education similar to noble family.

He suffered from malnutrition in his childhood, and starved himself to give food to his brothers but thanks to his good stamina it didn't really affect his physical abilities during his youth.

His hair cut, short in front and longer in the back is a result of heavy use of katon which literally burning his locks. But it's part of his charm.

He wore gloves for the same reason, fire makes his skin getting softer and sensitive.

He always has this slightly burning smell on him and all his clothes. It doesn't matter the number of shower or washing machines.

His long mane was not originally for aesthetic purpose, but just carelessness, then an excuse to hide his face and emotions, and finally his trade mark. People were wondering how strong or/and crazy he was to keep such long hair while it was not suitable during a fight. it can be set on fire, wedge in his armour, catch by an opponent...

He was almost blind up to Izuna's death. He expanded greatly his sensorial skills because he needed to rely on it daily.

His insomnia came from overthinking and fear of failure. He rarely sleeps more than 3 hours per night, He occasionally does micro nap (10 min max) during the day.

During his insomnia phases, and if the moon is full to avoid using candles, he read a lot of ancient philosophy, history, military strategy from Uchihas library.

He never married, never had a serious relationship. He had romantic view on someone now and then, but he never pursued it actively. Wars, fear of loosing again someone dear. Plus, he was convinced that his life as shinobi will be short, out of question to leave behind him widow and orphans.

This being said, let's be honest a man with such level of testosterone won't stay virgin all his life. And it's a common knowledge next to any military camp there is always prostitutes. He did his business in total discretion, to the point his clan questioned his orientation. He was a loyal client but cold and distant, ruthless during act, even after years of visiting the same persons.

Like many shinobis, he occasionally was subject of panic attacks. When he felt the symptoms coming, palpitations, pain in his chest ect... he always found a way to isolate himself. His triggers were always fear of loosing people he loves, fear of loosing control of himself, fear of not reaching his objectives. He hated himself when it happens.

He can be very rude and harsh to people. But what he said to others is half as hard he criticise himself daily.

90% of his schedule out of missions or fights were training. His dedication is obsessional.

10% left, during days of celebration, he is pretty good at calligraphy and writing haiku. Because he's a shinobi, he is specialized in death poems that warriors write before going to an important battle. But he burns them as soon as he comes back home. Doesn't want anyone to know about his poetic side at least when he's still alive.

After so many years of receiving punches, his tolerance to pain was extremely high which could be a problem sometimes, while fighting and high by adrenaline he often didn't realise how serious were his wounds.

Considering the number of battles he has been involved his body is covered with scars more or less ugly. And I'm sorry to say it, but I'm sure his face has not been preserved intact. He was kind of reckless during fight and didn't care about his physical appearance.

Paradoxically while he genuinely want to cease war, he find an erotic attraction in fight to death. Like people attracts to extreme sport, he feels the more alive when risking his own.

The reason why there is almost no uchihas kunoichi is practical. They want to preserve their bloodline and a female dead in battlefield is a loss for the future of the clan since they don't married outside their clan. Men would in rare situation when there is no women available but never female uchihas.

They have a practice close to what did Rajput warrior caste in India called Jauhâr , if enemies attack uchihas basement and battle is definitely lost, women of honour are expected to do self-immolation with their children rather than being kidnap, rape or put into slavery.

Like Naruto /Sasuke fight, the valley of the End left him with irreversible wounds, like chronic pains. And probably as well for Hashirama too maybe a slow down to his regenerative cells.

After the valley of the end, it was symbolically the death of his previous life as an uchiha. But he partially lived in his cave. He might occasionally travel undercover to look for informations, and food. It's only after Hashirama's death. He entirely took an ascetic lifestyle, denied of any pleasure, reduce to minimal for surviving. There was nothing anymore who could attached him from this physical world aside his plan. He let the white zetsus doing the main job as spy.

Without Gedo statute he would probably have die before his 40 of general exhaustion. There is always a price to pay when someone burns with such feral intensity his vital energy, submit himself to extreme training since childhood, fighting, lack of sleep, stress, depression. (Itachi can talk about it !)

During his fifty years retreat in the cave when he was not studying for his Moon plan spend 50% of the time within his genjutsu, rewatching endlessly the same memories with Izuna, Hashirama, deceased people he missed from Uchiha clan. And the older he gets, the longer he spend into his illusion. Kind of like an opium addiction.

Mentally he stops ageing at the time Izuna died, around 25. Exactly the appearance he looks when he put Obito into his illusion.

After decades of not seeing Rinnegan appearing he was almost in the verge of giving up the plan of the moon. Black Zetsu was paradoxically the one who save his life many time and put him back in track.

He is not the type to consciously commit suicide, but rather putting himself in suicidal situations like attacking alone an army or neglecting his health. In the cave, he put himself so deeply into his genjutsu that many time he forgot to control his chakra and if black zetsu didn't wake him up he would had just die inside his dream.

And if you want to read more about my Madara's analysis follow me in my main page here

The Gladiator’s Ring

C/W: Warrior (Predator)/F!Humans, Male Yautja/F!Humans, dubcon, sex club, monster sex, human fetish, exhibitionism, female gloryhole, sex marathon, size kink, hair kink, unprotected sex, public sex, casual sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, oral sex, self-indulgent debauchery, ass-to-pussy, face-sitting, multiple partners, predator/prey WC: 9528

It was well-known that Yautja had needs after a successful hunt. A veteran with a fondness for pyode amedha required many willing participants to sate his.

*This is a work of fiction that features unsafe sexual practices besides the involvement of a 7'+ alien. Depiction isn't endorsement*

An excerpt below the cut

He'd have to be mindful not to break skin with his talons, but that was part of the allure of oomans. Their inherent fragility was an addiction once he had learned how to handle their bodies. Their thin hides bruised and tore easily, their bones could snap if he got carried away. But once they lay undone beneath him in disbelief, the moment they realized they were enjoying the experience and bared their tender flesh to a ruthless alien for more…

The submission in their eyes when they understood he wasn't going to kill nor maim them, he only wanted to pauk them. Oomani-di were a delicacy. He was more than willing to play ‘gently’ at their level if it meant he got to partake in ooman sex.

The ooman reeked of anxiety, but she took a measured step towards him, followed by another. His pupils dilated from her proximity. He trilled in encouragement when she was within arm's reach, eagerly anticipating what this novel playmate would do next. He was acutely aware of her. The scent of her heat and apprehension wrapped around his head, a haze he would rejoice losing himself in. Her courage and appearance were extremely appealing to his tastes and it was getting difficult to keep his paws to himself.

Shaky fingertips brushed his hide with the most tentative of touches and she held her breath. His eyes fell to slits as he focused on the feathery sensation on his scales. Another reason he adored oomans –so gentle and curious, yet eager to please once he attained that delicious submission. He would like to take this one to mate if she was willing.

~

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It wasn't even breathing heavily after that level of exertion.

The woman fixated on the sinewy contours of its musculature. It –no, he– how could this creature be anything but a ‘he?’ Her eyes dropped to the swollen evidence of his raw masculinity between thighs carved in stone, swallowing at the bumpy surface on the ridiculous endowment. He was all sleek power and so very male. There was that preternatural grace to his movements, the way the mesmerizing patterns to that rough bluish skin rippled, skin she recalled was not wholly unpleasant to touch. She witnessed the extended demonstration of what he could do with that wicked maw – how delicately his terrifying mandibles could handle the women as he did unspeakable things to them with that tongue. He was the picture of virility as he humped his latest woman while standing and cradling her.

She stared in rapture. The beast quirked a mandible, a frank invitation to sample the monster that clearly intrigued her. It was an apt reminder that this was an intelligent creature far more advanced than the humans who surrounded him. She drew a sharp intake of breath. Heat blazed as she waded into the incandescent gold pools in his eyes –the predatory cunning of that gaze was undeniable. He knew he was captivating. And his hulking presence demanded he be watched. 

~