DF!Madara Mikejima x Fem!Reader
ABORT MISSION. You're tasked with getting information and run into someone you shouldn't have. (Originally posted Sep 28th)
Contains : Fem!Reader, smut, mentions of killing, Double Face!Madara, possessiveness, praise kink (good girl, etc), slight size kink (stomach bulge, etc), slight breeding kink, inaccurate lore, not proofread, etc.
A/N : Let me just preface this fic by saying Madara Mikejima makes me incredibly unwell. Some more stuff you should know before reading this is; Madara might be slightly OOC but I tried my best to keep his teasing and carefree personality in there. I also tried to keep the dress up to the reader’s imagination besides being low-cut and has a slit in the side to expose reader’s legs. This is also the first full smut fic I’ve written in a while so I truly apologize if any of the actual smut part is rusty, let me know!
Word Count : 5.5k+
18+ content underneath the cut. By clicking 'Keep Reading' you are knowingly reading content made for people over the age of 18. Read at your own discretion.
This was not how your night was supposed to go.
Not at all.
You weren’t excited about having to meet Gatekeeper in the first place, but orders were orders, and you had dedicated your life to following them. However, it seemed like the rest of the world decided to test the oath you had sworn all that time ago. You look down at your glass of champagne, reminiscing about the beginning of your evening as you avoided eye contact with a certain someone.
Your dress clung to all the right parts of your body to accentuate your curves, the colour of the fabric suited perfectly to compliment your skin tone. Your heels clacked against the cement pathway leading to the huge mansion where hundreds of rich, overpowered men and women of the music industry (and more) would be gathering tonight. What should have been nervousness coursing through your veins was instead replaced by the adrenaline you usually felt during your missions - somehow comforting to you, perhaps a curse to others. You mastered the art of hiding what you truly felt, the shake in your hands long gone by the time you arrived at the huge doors of the mansion.
You could hear the classical music from outside, letting other invitees brush by your shoulder as you repeated the same mantra in your head - you can do this. Truthfully, as much as your brain loved to overthink things, you already knew you could do this. You’ve done it a thousand times before, what’s one more mission to add to the list?
Well, for one, having to initiate contact with Gatekeeper and gather intel is not your ordinary mission, at least for someone like you. Gatekeeper was someone involved beyond the idol world, and you didn’t step out of that boundary… much. He was powerful, well-known, and most importantly, a killer. A nagging voice at the back of your mind rudely reminds you, ‘well, who isn’t?’ and you quickly decide to put an end to those thoughts, instead replacing it with your analytical, observational ones as you finally took your first step inside the building.
Gold decorated the halls, marble columns holding the twenty-foot ceilings up high, intricate designs laid upon them. If you weren’t in such a controversial position, you could’ve possibly enjoyed the architecture and paintings decorating the walls, but now wasn’t the time to think about it.
Now was the time to find a drink and naturally let your well-crafted persona surface - now it was time to infiltrate and gather information on the people you so desperately despise. You walked up to the bar, ordering a glass of champagne for yourself, and you took a seat once the bartender handed you your drink, scanning your surroundings. Everyone was dressed to the nines; you noticed one woman had a pure diamond necklace resting on her neck, surely worth thousands. Her jewellery could put your own to shame, the ones your boss had so generously given you for this specific night, and you knew he spent an incredible amount of money so your costume was as perfect as possible.
You took a sip of your champagne, letting the bubbly drink soothe the rest of your nerves. A nice drink, you thought to yourself, maybe you’ll sneak a bottle back home when you leave. God knows you wouldn’t be able to afford it outside of this place.
“Enjoying yourself?” A voice spoke up from next to you, and you smiled as fate has dealt you a good hand (ironic, you bitterly think now, considering the situation you’re currently in) - next to you stood a tall man with slicked back hair, dressed in an all-black suit and expensive gold rings adorning his fingers.
Gatekeeper.
He’s good-looking, but certainly not your type. A certain brunette came to mind- damn it, brain, this isn’t the time!
“Yes, I am.” You gave him a small, charming smile. “And you?”
“Of course I am,” Gatekeeper chuckled, “I’m surrounded by beautiful music and now I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman. How could I not?”
You patted yourself on the back for not letting your smile waver out of disgust. “Well, it’s a lovely night for such an occasion. You are?”
Granted, you knew everything about him already - or, as much information as there is about him out there. If you truly knew him, you wouldn’t be here.
“Gatekeeper. And you…?” His hand reached out to shake yours, and you gently accepted it.
You gave him the fake name that your boss had given you for the night, and Gatekeeper nodded, smirking. If he had seen you before around ES Square, he didn’t give away that he recognized you - and knowing how careful you’ve been about your true identity, you doubt he had ever even heard of you. “A pleasure.”
“Well, the pleasure is all mine.” He raised his glass of red wine, and you clinked your delicate glass of champagne and gave a small ‘cheers’.
You continued talking about this and that, mostly about the newer idols making their units’ names known. Gatekeeper had an alluring voice, you’re aware, but it doesn’t work on you. He tried to drag you in with his sweet words, and you played along, assumingly falling into the trap he thought he laid out in front of you. However, there was no glint in his eye when he talked about the things he’s apparently ‘passionate’ about - his smile was fake, and the politeness in his voice was void of any true respect towards you. You’re just another pawn in his game, but little did he know you have control of the board.
The conversation flowed smoothly with your perfect lies, the two of you faking each moment spent together. You knew you were getting somewhere when he accidentally dropped the name of someone you recognize - before, he had just been talking about his colleagues anonymously.
Gotcha.
It shouldn’t have been this easy though, and unfortunately, you proved yourself right when you caught a glimpse of a long, green jacket flashing by, and another matching uniform quickly passing by in the hall. To anybody else, they were invisible, perfectly moulding with the picture-perfect, rich environment surrounding you all, but to your keen eye, they were practically glowing.
Double Face was not supposed to be here.
Madara’s green eyes locked onto yours, and you saw the shock on his face before he quickly wiped it off, melting back into his stone-faced look. Shit. Kohaku noticed his reaction, and turned his head in the direction where his companion was staring, his eyes landing on your figure right next to Gatekeeper. Shit, shit, shit.
You frowned right back, but before either of them could look away, you placed your arm on the bar’s high table and tapped the counter repeatedly, without Gatekeeper noticing as he glanced away when someone called his name. Tap tap, pause. Tap tap tap. Pause. Tap. You swear you saw a look of relief wash over Madara’s face, and he nodded, before motioning to Kohaku to follow him, and just like that, they disappeared into the crowd, but you can still feel Madara’s eyes on your body.
Which brings you back to your current predicament.
Gatekeeper turns back to you and notices the way you stare absentmindedly at your champagne.
“Is everything alright?” He asks with faux-concern.
You turn to him, looking at him and give him a perfectly sculpted nervous smile. “Yes, I’m just not used to being in such a big venue with so many people. What am I even supposed to do?”
His calculating eyes seem to ponder your words for a moment - shit, did you slip up? There was no way you could have. However, Gatekeeper merely chuckles and his hand comes up to place itself on your right cheek, cradling it gently. God, you want to throw up. “Don’t worry, my dear. I’ll teach you.”
He places his empty glass of wine on the counter, you following in suit, and leads you to the ballroom, where couples dance together to the classical music the orchestra plays. His hand settles on your waist, the other entangling itself in your own (ugh, is his hand sweaty?), which prompts you to place your free hand on the bicep of his arm holding your waist.
“Do you dance?” He asks you.
“Quite poorly.” You hope you step on his foot.
“Nonsense, nothing a little practice can’t solve.” And with that, he starts to sway to the orchestra, and you play your part of the helpless woman who can’t dance to save her life.
(You’ve taken dance lessons since you were six.)
You continue to dance in your waltz of lies, continuing to talk about the idol life between the two of you - ever since his slip-up, Gatekeeper chooses his words carefully. The alcohol must have loosened his tongue, but the namedrop sobered him up quickly. He was a smart and calculating man, you’ll give him that.
Speaking of smart and calculating men, you can feel the gaze of your favourite one staring right at you, and a subtle glance to the right confirms your suspicions. Madara is still keeping an eye on you, not out of maliciousness, but rather of concern. The small furrow of his brow is familiar to you (he gave you the same look when you accidentally fell off stage during your unit’s practice), and you try to give him the most subtle reassurance you can muster through eye-contact alone. His once crossed arms slowly go back to his side, and he taps his pointer finger against his thigh - alright, he’s saying. But the fire in his eyes is far from dying down. The look on his face sends a shiver down your spine.
The song comes to an end, and with that, so does your dance. You try not to pull away too quickly from your partner, unless you want to give away how eager you are to stop touching him.
“Tonight was lovely,” Gatekeeper says, tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “but duty calls. I hope we will meet again soon.”
Go to hell, is what you want to say, but you hold yourself back. “Thank you for the dance.” And with that, you part ways.
You try to find a quiet place to gather your thoughts and go over the intel you’ve collected thus far from your quiet conversations between the man. Your eagerness to get out of the ballroom keeps you momentarily distracted, and while turning a corner (perhaps too quickly) your face makes contact with a soft wall. You keep your yelp down, a hand smacking right over your mouth.
A soft wall?
Looking up, you lock eyes with the man who has been distracting you all night.
“Mikejima,” you greet, trying not to look too excited upon finally talking to him - keeping your true emotions at bay was hard with him, it seems.
He says nothing back. One of his gloved hands settles on the small of your back, pushing your body completely flush against his, his other hand coming up to the back of your head, tucking it in his neck. Madara’s lips brush against your ear as he leans down to speak words only the two of you can hear.
“You have a lot of explaining to do.” He says, and something in your lower stomach ignites.
You try your hardest to ignore it - if you gave in to your true feelings, he would become a liability, a weakness, somebody who can be used against you in case you ever fall into the wrong hands.
There’s no anger in his eyes when he pulls away from your rather intimate position to look at you, only aggressive concern. In fact, the anger appears when he looks towards the ballroom, and you turn to see him glaring daggers at Gatekeeper, who is now mingling with an older-looking man - the exact man he name-dropped earlier.
“Let’s move someplace else.” Madara gently grabs your hand, dragging you off into the hallway you had turned towards earlier.
“What about Koha–” You start to say, but he interrupts you.
“He’ll be fine.”
Knowing he’s right, you nod, and the two of you set off into the maze of hallways, coming across fewer and fewer people until you’re in a seemingly-abandoned section of the mansion, and Madara opens the door to a lavish-looking bedroom.
He closes the door behind you both, and motions for you to sit on the bed. Hesitantly, you do so - what if he was actually mad, and truly thought you were working alongside Gatekeeper? You’d rather die.
“What were you doing here tonight?” He’s standing right in front of you, arms crossed once again.
The one question you can’t answer.
“Who do you work for?” The brunette asks. He takes one step forward, and it feels like your eyes are permanently locked together as you keep your mouth shut tightly.
Another question you can’t answer.
“...Do you work for Gatekeeper?”
“No.” You immediately say, knowing that you can answer that question.
“Thank god.” Madara sighs out, a small grin on his face. “I knew it, but hearing it from you is a thousand times better.”
It seems that even on a mission, he still holds that carefree personality he tries so hard to uphold.
“What are you doing here?” You ask.
“C’mon, if you can’t answer that, you think I can?”
Your shoulders drop, and you rest your elbows on your thighs, head going slack. You feel like you can finally drop the persona you perfectly crafted for your mission in Madara’s presence, and you can hear him chuckle at your relaxed body language.
“Tough day at work, huh?” He muses, and you let out a small, breathless laugh, raising your head to look at him.
“Something like that, yeah. I feel nearly damn tainted by having his hands on me.” You don’t have to even say his name, because both of you know exactly who you’re talking about. And judging by the frown once again settling on Madara’s gorgeous features, you know he’s not a fan of Gatekeeper in the least.
“I didn’t like him touching you like that.”
It’s hard to not read into his words, but when an attractive man standing right in front of you says that - the same attractive man you’ve been fantasising about for god-knows-how-long and desperately crushing over - your brain nearly goes haywire and you feel yourself warm up.
Your head goes back to resting in your hands, and you can clearly hear Madara’s slow footsteps approaching you. He crouches down to your level so he can look into your eyes. When you make a point of not holding eye contact (curse your stupid brain), his hand grabs ahold of your face and keeps it still. His fingers are pressing against your jaw gently yet firmly, and it feels like electricity zaps down your spine as you see the look in his emerald green eyes - his pupils are nearly completely dilated.
Deciding to test the waters, you ask:
“Touching me like what?” Your cheeks warm up even more at the sound of your meek, desperate voice - Madara must’ve heard that.
He sighs, his eyes closing momentarily as his head drops a bit, his bangs covering his face from your view. He looks back up after a second or two, his messy hair framing his face beautifully, and you feel like you’ve died, gone to heaven and been greeted by an angel. “Never realised you’d be a brat about this.”
“A br–?! Ah!” Your exclamation is quickly interrupted when Madara’s hand leaves your face, instead hooking underneath your thighs so he can make you fall backwards onto the bed, and he quickly crawls on top of you, his strong thighs keeping you in between him.
“You know exactly what he did.” He mutters, and your faces are so close your noses brush against each other. The warmth emanating from him seems to surround you, and your heart beats wildly against your ribcage as you feel your cunt clench around nothing.
Madara’s thumb strokes your bottom lip, letting his touch leave a fiery trail in its wake. Your breath shudders in anticipation, waiting for him to do something, anything, more. Your eyes flutter close, and the man on top of you huffs.
“Look at me.” He demands.
Your eyes snap up to him once you hear the stern tone in his voice, and he smiles at your compliance.
You’ve always been a rather assertive woman, not letting people walk over you as long as you could help it. You know what you want and how to get it, and your missions have always been successful because of your attitude. However, with Madara on top of you, all you can think about is how badly you want to be good for him. You know he’s thinking along the same lines as you as you glance down and see a tent in his dark grey pants.
Your hand reaches out to give him a bit of relief, but before your fingers can brush against his clothed dick, he grabs your hand and pins it above your head. Madara bends down to mouth against your neck, the neckline on your dress exposing your delicate skin and being suggestive enough to leave others wanting to see more.
“Seeing him touching you like that, it pissed me off so much.” You can hear the strain in his voice, his hand tightening around your pinned one. Your free hand comes up to run your fingers through his soft hair before cupping his face, and he gives you a gentle look.
“Mikejima,” You say softly, “It’s a mission. That’s all it is.” Your thumb strokes his face, and he seems to lean into the comforting contact for a moment before he hardens his expression again.
He leans down until his lips are right next to your ear, and you feel goosebumps cover your skin as he continues speaking.
“I know,” he mumbles, “but he should know not to touch what doesn’t belong to him.”
The fire in your lower stomach continues to be fanned by his words, and you clench your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction to pleasure yourself. Madara’s sensual touches only make you feel more needy for what you crave. You decide to continue to push his buttons, tilting your head in mock-confusion.
“Who do I belong to, then?”
That was the tipping point.
His thigh moves in-between your own, pressing against your clothed cunt and he lets go of your hand to place both of his on your waist, rolling your hips to grind against him. You whimper at the sudden action, your own hands reaching out to grasp his shoulder tightly. You feel his strong muscles clench underneath your touch, and you’re suddenly reminded of how strong Madara really is. He could easily use his strength to snap your neck, but instead he’s using it to keep your body flush against his own.
He leans down to nip at your neck, finding your sweet spot quickly as your moans get louder and more desperate, and you feel his teeth bite down hard enough to leave a mark in a very obvious spot for everyone to see. He clearly wants to imprint the message in your mind - you belong to him.
Madara moves to take the strap of your dress off of your shoulder so he can leave more bruises along your collarbone and shoulder, his hand slipping from your waist to cup your breast and give it a firm squeeze. Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you start moving your own hips against his thigh desperately.
“Are you so desperate for me you’re gettin’ off of my thigh?” You feel his warm breath against your skin along with his lips curling into a smile.
Your face feels like it’s on fire as you shake your head, embarrassed. “‘M not…”
“No need to be shy, baby,” he chuckles, “tell me what I wanna hear, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”
Madara’s hand wanders down as he speaks, trailing down to your thigh and disappearing in between the cut of the dress that exposes your leg. His touch sets your body ablaze, his fingers finally brushing against the area where you need him most. He traces the lace of your underwear before letting his hand cup your heat, and stops all movement as he looks at you expectantly.
What he wants to hear?
He taps a finger against you as you take too long to reply, and you jolt at the sudden contact of his finger against your clit - the light touch leaves you wanting more. He gives you a disappointed look, nearly giving you puppy eyes, and you panic internally as you feel him start to pull away.
“Well, I guess you didn’t want this, then...” The hand that cupped your breast moves to cup his own erection instead, the outline of his dick clear against his tight pants. In the dim light of the room, you can kind of see how big he is.
“No-!” You say quickly and desperately, yet mindful to keep your voice down in case anybody did come into this part of the mansion. “Please, I need you so badly.”
“Say it then,” he says, unbuckling the belt around his waist. It’s at that moment that you realise that his long, green jacket (you think to yourself that it counts as a cape) had been removed previously - you must’ve been too distracted to notice. “Tell me who you belong to.”
Oh.
You know your panties are ruined now.
Your body feels like a furnace as you try to muster the courage to say the words he wants to hear.
“Mikejima, I belong to you.”
“Don’t call me that.”
What?
You think for a moment before you realise - he wants you to call him by his first name.
“I’m yours, Madara.” You say confidently. You realise it’s the first time you’ve ever called him that.
He groans happily, fully taking his belt off and loosening the tie around his neck. Madara rewards your answer by running his fingers through your wet folds, covering them with your own arousal. The movement of his hand is restricted by your underwear, which he impatiently rips off of your body.
“Hey! I liked those.” You whine.
“Aw, that’s too bad,” he gives you a fake pout before he speaks again, “but if you keep whinin’, I’ll use it as a gag to shut you up. You want that?”
As hot as it sounds at the moment, you shake your head - you want to feel his lips against yours, and having a gag in your mouth would prevent that. Madara smiles at your willingness and carelessly throws your ruined panties to the other side of the room. He continues undressing himself until he’s shirtless, his toned, strong body on display for you to appreciate. He moves the two of you further up the bed until your head is comfortably resting against the soft pillows, your hair splayed out around you. Your lover climbs back on top of you, strong arms keeping you caged underneath him - in that moment, with your eyes hazy, lips parted in a silent pant, you look like an angel to him.
Madara’s hand goes to the small of your back, lifting it up so he can find the zipper. He slowly takes your dress off, careful not to let his eagerness get in the way.
“Oh, so ripping the panties is fine, but the dress is off limits?” You cock an eyebrow, and he laughs lightly in reply.
“Seeing you in this drove me crazy,” he admits, “I wanted to fuck you then and there when I saw you.”
His words make your cunt clench around nothing again, and your whine nearly sounds like a moan. Once your dress is fully off, he tosses it on the ground, and his hands are immediately on you once more.
Madara kisses you, his lips fitting perfectly against your own. His fingers trail down towards your wet cunt, once again gathering your slick before he finally pushes a finger into you. You moan, and he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth, tangling it with your own. Your head feels fuzzy from the stimuli as he thrusts his fingers inside your warm pussy, your juices running down his hand and onto the mattress underneath the two of you. Your thighs start shaking and your body jolts at his touches, and Madara wears a proud smirk on his face, removing his fingers from you. He holds them up to your mouth, waiting.
“Be a good girl and clean them.” You obediently listen, opening your mouth and letting your tongue wrap around his wet fingers, sucking them clean. He removes them from your mouth with a ‘pop’, and lets his head drop to lean against your shoulder and mumbles, “So good for me, huh?”
He sucks another hickey on your skin, and you nod your head.
“Yes- yes, only for you.” Your voice sounds breathless and needy, making Madara chuckle. “‘Dara, please, I need more.”
“Whaddya want?” He teases you, but he’s already taking his pants and boxers off, revealing his thick, long cock. He’s impossibly hard, leaking precum, and you feel your mouth water. He snaps his fingers in your face, bringing you back into the present.
What is it with this constant teasing? You complain about it in your head, but your body has a different reaction - you feel yourself grow more aroused, if possible.
“I… I want you.” You say quietly.
“What’s that? I couldn’t hear ya.” He rubs the tip of his dick along your folds and you both shudder at the feeling, but stops moving to await your answer.
“I want you, Madara.” But it’s not quite enough.
“C’mon, speak up. Aren’t you supposed to be my good girl?”
Fuck, you’re desperate to feel him inside of you at this point. You push your embarrassment aside, wanting- no, needing to cum.
“Please, Madara, I need you so bad!” You shut your eyes as you beg. “I need you to fill me up, ple-”
He finally pushes his cock inside of you, your slick making it easy. You both sigh in relief, but your sigh turns into a loud moan at the feeling of his size inside of you - he’s so big and he feels so fucking good, you’ve never felt so full before.
Madara isn’t faring any better; your warm walls suck him in so easily, cunt drooling around him, and he’s trying so hard not to snap and fuck you into the bed. But the sight of his dick disappearing into you is driving him insane, and he sees a slight bulge coming out of your stomach. Out of curiosity, he places a hand down on it, and nearly folds when he feels you tightening up around him and moaning.
“Fuck, (Y/N), you feel so good.” Madara says, sounding quite breathless himself. All he wants to do is fill you up with his cum, to see you leak his seed, to have everyone know that you’re his and he’s yours.
If he isn’t careful, he knows he’ll get carried away.
“Please, please move- please,” you beg more, “fuck- you’re so big-”
He starts thrusting slowly, your body getting used to his sheer size - you know you’ve been ruined for any other man. Nothing will satisfy you the way Madara can.
You get lost in the pleasure, but it’s still not enough to bring you to your end. There’s a certain itch at the back of both of your minds that neither of you can’t quite pinpoint, and one particularly hard thrust from Madara makes you moan out - loudly.
“M’dara, need you to fill me up,” you say without thinking, “wanna feel you cum inside-”
The man on top of you stills, processing your words. Shit, you think you’ve fucked up. However, his hand places itself on your stomach, right where your womb is, before speaking.
“You want me to fill you up here?” He asks, and you nod your head vigorously.
Something snaps inside of Madara, and he suddenly continues his movements, but more quickly and desperately. His hips snap against you, his dick angled perfectly to hit your g-spot continuously, and you nearly scream his name.
“Careful baby, there are still people - fuck - here. You want them to hear you?” He says through his breathlessness, but you’re too focused on the intense pleasure you’re feeling. “You want everyone to know who’s fucking you this good?”
If your lover was being honest with himself, he wants people to hear you.
“N-no!” You exclaim.
Your brain feels muddled, drool seeping out of the corner of your mouth - all you can focus on is Madara’s cock filling your insides. His hand moves down slightly on your stomach, and he feels his cock moving around in you, pressing down to make you tighten up like you did earlier. Sure enough, he gets the same reaction, and he knows he’s approaching his end.
“Fuck - you’re gonna take all my cum like a good girl, aren’t ya?” Madara says, and he thrusts deeper than before, hitting a spot that even you haven’t reached before.
“Yes, yes- I will, I’ll be good for you, only you!” You babble.
Through his delirious pleasure, he remembers earlier that night - seeing you in your dress, talking to Gatekeeper while he flirted with you - he nearly walked over to fuck you in front of everyone to show he’s the only one who can make you feel that good, he’s the one that gets to feel your pussy wrap around his cock perfectly like you’re made for each other. His calm and collected demeanour from the earlier mission seems like a joke to him now.
“You’re so amazing,” he continues, “so fuckin’ beautiful, I just wanna fill you up…”
The thought of filling you up with his seed, and it actually taking makes him nearly cum then and there. To imagine your belly round, breasts plump and heavy with milk gets a weak whimper out of the back of his throat, and your legs tighten around his waist as he starts pounding you into the bed.
You tighten up around his thick length even more at his praise, and he knows that you’re getting close as you start to moan his name, begging endlessly and becoming more careless about your volume. When he leans down to level his lips to your ear, you know you’re a goner.
“Come for me, my love.” You cry out, your pussy clamping down around him, your juices gushing out. The feeling triggers Madara’s own orgasm as well, pouring his hot load into you as you milk him dry. He pumps every single last drop into your tight cunt, and there’s just so much that it makes you whimper, feeling it drip in between your thighs and land on the mattress, mixing in with your own fluids.
You catch your breath, Madara hesitantly pulling out, letting his body drop next to yours on the bed. You feel more of his cum leaking out of you, and the brunette tuts disappointedly, his fingers scooping the excess liquid and fingering it back into you, careful not to overstimulate you - you shiver anyways, your thighs shaking violently and he finally pulls his fingers out once he’s sure he’s done a good job.
You both turn on your sides to look at each other, the smell of sweat and sex wafting throughout the room. The moment is quiet and tender as you look into each other’s eyes, Madara smiling softly at you.
“You did so well.” He says, tucking some of your hair behind your ear - his touch is nothing like Gatekeeper’s, and you feel safe in Madara’s arms. “Let’s get you dressed so we can get out of here, shall we?”
He helps you get back into your dress after he gets back into uniform, and you leave your ruined panties behind. Your legs are shaky as you walk towards the main door, and you try not to walk too stiffly - but also not casually enough where other people can see the trail of Madara’s cum seeping down your thigh. You both walk out the doors, and let out a deep sigh of relief at the same time.
You look at each other, and there’s silent understanding between the two of you - finally, your mission is over.
(After the party is over, Gatekeeper tries not to question the ripped panties in the corner of one of his guest rooms.)
