You feel ridiculous. Out of place. An unwanted guest in a strange world, full of delicate, fine lace, soft nylon and screaming femininity. The shine of silk and satin, the softness of velvet, the sparkle of sequins and a web of lace - a boutique of expensive and beautiful lingerie. And you are an unexpected guest in it.

You wander between the rows, looking at the underwear that you have previously seen only in pictures. From time to time, you look around shyly, catching the glances of the sales consultants. You think they’re looking at you with condemnation and probably discussing you among themselves. They’re probably laughing at you. This imaginary dialogue is already flashing through your head, derogatory, disgusting, evil.

“What is she doing here?”

“You’d think we were selling underwear for hippos.”

“Yeah. Just imagine: a cow in lace.”

“What a laughing stock. Who was she going to show this to? What poor bastard could deserve such a view?”

Logic tells you that the last thing salespeople in lingerie stores think about is who their customers are going to show off to. They would like to sell you something more expensive, sell you all sorts of bonuses and additional goods, and then get you out as quickly as possible. But your feelings have always been stronger than even the most strong logic.

You decided that this was a stupid idea. And really, who would want to see you in beautiful lingerie? You weren’t even sure that they even sold your sizes. You weren’t even sure that they even made anything in your sizes. So you were about to move towards the exit, as if you simply hadn’t found what you were looking for.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” a young consultant asks you. You can’t help but notice how… perfect she is. Tall, slender, young. Her doll-like face is lit up with a polite smile, her long hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail at the back of her head. Perfect posture, a uniform that fits her perfectly. The very picture of perfection. The epitome of femininity. The complete opposite of you.

“I’m just looking,” you mumble out of politeness.

“Are you looking for something for a special occasion? We have some really elegant, romantic sets, cute florals, and pastel shades. Perfect for a special date. Would you like to take a look?”

“I don’t think you have my size…” you mumble hesitantly, trying not to show your interest. She wouldn’t push you like that if she knew they didn’t have your size, right? There’s no way that her sweet smile could hide such cruelty, right?

“We have a wide range of sizes. I’m sure we could help you find something. What look do you prefer? Something cute or, on the contrary, sexy and passionate?”

You mentally snort: “sexy” and “you” are incompatible. But you have to give credit to the girl’s professionalism. She manages to sound so sincere, as if without any hidden mockery.

“Something… cute.”

The consultant gestures for you to follow her, and deftly weaves between the shelves to the far wall of the boutique. She selects several sets from the hanger and invites you to look at them. You hesitantly touch the fine lace, stroking the flowers and bows embroidered with satin ribbons with your fingertips, examining the graceful embroidery and delicate patterns. Everything is so… gentle, airy, cute. Completely different from the sports bras that you wear every day, because only they can keep your “girls” in place.

One set does catch your eye and you hesitantly ask if they have your size. The saleswoman takes a long time to sort through the sets, even goes to the stack room. And you nervously shift from foot to foot in anticipation. Part of you even wishes that it wasn't there. Because then you wouldn't have to wear it tonight. But part of you really hopes that you won't leave the boutique empty-handed.

A paper bag with the store's logo seems like an unbearable burden to you. With enthusiasm that came from nowhere, you bought not only underwear, but also a pair of stockings with garters. Your previous experience with stockings was not the best: regular stockings didn't go above your knees, and if they did, the elastic bands pressed so hard that your thighs looked like a bundle of sausages. After such experiments, you couldn't even think about stockings for a long time without crying, but something today made you give this hellish piece of clothing another chance. And the sellers assured and almost swore that this would not happen with their product and that they would “tightly fit the leg, but not squeeze the thigh.”

You doubted it. But for the sake of a special occasion, you were ready to take a risk. Today was Simon’s birthday.

Of course, the cliche “your gift is me” was not the most original idea and you also prepared a normal, adequate gift for him. But for the last few months, you couldn’t get out of your head the phrase he once casually threw out that it would be nice to “wrap you in lace.”

He then meant something like “dress you in something more feminine for a change” (and you really made some progress since then, you even had two new dresses in your wardrobe, which, although they hid more than they accentuated, were still a step away from the pants and T-shirts you always wore), but you thought it would be a good idea to take his words more literally and actually appear in front of him in lacy lingerie.

After all, what could be more feminine than beautiful underwear and stockings?

You planned to celebrate very quietly, just you and Simon, at your place. Dinner, a little alcohol to set the mood and a piece of cake. Then you’ve planned to give him his gist. And you were not going to listen to his “Birdy, you didn’t need to give me anything, I already have everything I ever wanted.”

Oh, Simon… You had no idea how you could attract his attention, how you could have such a man all for yourself. He was handsome, strong, amazingly built, and never, neither in word nor in deed, did he offend you. He did have anger issues sometimes (which didn't surprise you, considering the nature of his job), but he never directed his aggression at you. You were his little flower, his heart, his little bird, and he cared for you in a way no one else could. But even with him, it wasn't easy for you to shake off the insecurities that your entire environment had hammered into you your entire life. That evil inner voice wouldn't let you relax for a minute, returning to derogatory comments about your appearance over and over and over again. Sure, you had sex in the few months you and Simon had been dating. But you never got completely naked. At the very least, your upper body was always covered with at least a loose T-shirt, if not a hoodie. And you didn't even take off your bra at night when you spent the night together. You insisted on turning off the lights every time and keeping the room completely dark. And refused intimacy during the day, because even with the curtains tightly drawn, the room was too light.

It was a bit stupid of you. Simon wasn't blind, he saw you in your clothes and knew you by touch. He clearly understood what was under your clothes. And his greedy touches left no room for doubt: he found you desirable. And, perhaps, with him it would not be so scary to try to step on the throat of your own fear. Maybe he would even like it...

At home, you quickly cleaned up, locked yourself in the bathroom for an hour and a half, cooked dinner (“Nothing fancy, birdie. Just steak and potatoes - and I will be more than happy”). There was no more than half an hour left before Simon arrived, and, having gathered your courage, you finally put on the set of lingerie you had bought. The delicate lace did not support your breasts at all, and your panties were rubbing unusually between your buns (because, apparently, pretty lingerie should not be practical). But the stockings really were not a complete disaster and looked not completely ridiculous. Especially once you figured out the garters. You put on a cute little dress on top (the one that Simon had complimented you on the most) and even played with makeup. Nothing special, just a little glitter on your eyelids, mascara and lip gloss. You looked at yourself in the mirror and did not even recognize yourself, you were so... cute? This thought seemed so foreign, alien in your head. You even felt a little ashamed of it. Okay, you thought, today is not about you, it’s about Simon.

Just when you thought about him, there was a knock on the door. Quickly diving into high-heeled shoes, you, a little awkwardly, ran out to meet him. You opened the door and froze. And you weren't the only one.

He seemed completely knocked out and smitten by you. You blushed and invited him in, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You felt a little ridiculous in this outfit, but you pushed these thoughts as far away as possible. Today is not about you!

You were eating dinner, enjoying each other's company, and Simon still couldn't take his eyes off you.

“What?” you asked, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You're so beautiful,” he answered with a disarming smile.

Happy, calm, sincere. Just like you wanted him to be.

After finishing your meal, you two moved to the couch, then you sang him “Happy Birthday” and handed him his gift. Simon seemed surprised that you bought him something, he told you not to do that.

“It's your birthday, your special day! How could I not?"

“Every day with you, birdie, is special. And every day with you is a gift.”

You try your best not to cry at his words, you are overwhelmed with love and tenderness. You kiss him softly, and immediately fall captive to his arms.

You kiss slowly, sweetly, enjoying the moment and the taste of each other. Tongues intertwine in a gentle dance, there is no rush, no fight for the leading position. His hands slide over your sides, back, hips. And you almost completely forget yourself.

You put your palms on Simon's chest and pull away, breathing heavily.

“I have one more gift for you,” you whisper, trembling with excitement.

“Birdie, I told you that I don't need anything, I…”

You cover his lips with your palm and smile mysteriously.

“You might like this one. But you'll have to open it in the bedroom.”

You wink and, while your resolve hasn't deserted you, jump to your feet and pull Simon into the bedroom with you. He follows obediently, intrigued. You think he understands perfectly well that this is some kind of gift related to sex, but you don't know if he'll guess.

In the bedroom, you sit him down on the bed, leave only the table lamp on the bedside table on, and disappear into the bathroom with the words:

“Now wait here for a couple of minutes, I'll prepare your surprise.”

In the bathroom, you quickly take off your dress, smooth your hair and look into the eyes of your reflection in the mirror for half a minute.

“You can do it. It's Simon. He'll never laugh at you. Everything will be fine.”

The last detail is you tie a ribbon with a bow around your neck.

Finally, you grab the door handle and push it open, standing before Simon in all your lacy glory.

He stares at you with wide eyes, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He doesn’t seem surprised, but he’s not happy either. He’s clearly not showing disgust, but you can’t read any joy on his face either.

“Um… ta-dah?” you say with feigned confidence. But Simon is silent and his expression still doesn’t change.

You look down at the floor, feeling your face burn with shame. What a stupid idea. Idiotic. Did you have to embarrass yourself like that?

“You know, I guess… I’ll go back and change, yeah. Sorry,” you mumble, retreating back to the bathroom. Before you can even take a step, the world suddenly turns upside down and you fall backwards onto the bed.

Your head is spinning from the sudden change in position and it takes you a few seconds to see Simon above you, blocking the ceiling from your view. In the semi-darkness, only at this distance do you notice how dilated his pupils are, how his gaze greedily glides over your body.

You fidget nervously, even a little scared: you have never seen him like this. Usually he was so gentle with you... But now it was as if there was a hungry beast in front of you. And you were his juicy prey.

Not a word is said, Simon covers your lips with his in a merciless kiss. His hands slide over your body, not stroking, but squeezing, grabbing you with strong fingers so tightly that bruises will definitely appear tomorrow.

A hot, large palm covers your breast. Calloused fingers stroke the delicate lace, squeezing the nipple hidden under the flimsy barrier. You whine right into the kiss, and he loosens his grip, but doesn’t let you go completely.

His palm moves lower, down your stomach, to your hips, hooking the elastic band of your panties and pulling them down. You are left wearing only a bra and stockings.

Simon sits on the bed between your spread legs, his fingers touching the soft nylon. He runs his palms from the band of the stocking to the toes of your feet. He still hasn’t said a word. He takes your foot and presses it right to his groin. You feel how hard and hot he already  is through several layers of fabric.

“Just look at what you did to me,” Simon says, unbuckling his belt with one hand, holding your foot in place with the other. Your gazes meet and he lets go of your leg for a few seconds, only to unbutton his pants and pull them down, releasing his cock. The dark head, crimson from the blood rushing to it, gleams in the semi-darkness of the bedroom, wet with pre.

He clenches his fist around himself, running it up and down a few times, closing his eyes in pleasure. Then he hangs over you again, grabbing you under the knees, folding you into a mating press as far as he can.

You are all open before him, exposed, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. You breathe heavily with excitement, causing your breasts to rise so temptingly that Simon cannot resist, biting into the lace of your bra with his teeth, tearing the fabric that dared to stand between him and your sweet skin. You have time to regretfully think that you wasted so much money on lingerie, but when Simon invades your soft, pliant body without warning, you understand that it was worth it.

You are wet enough that his intrusion does not hurt you, but not wet enough for him to enter you all the way in one smooth movement. And while you gasp for air, Simon does not give you a second to get used to his thickness, and begins to rock his hips, penetrating you deeper and deeper with each thrust.

He grabs you greedily, hungrily, with a passion that you thought he was not capable of. Your sweet Simon, your gentle Simon, pounded into you with such force that your breath caught in your throat, and the headboard thudded dully against the wall.

He bit, pinched, squeezed, pressed your soft, pliable flesh, growling, mumbling incoherently about how you were driving him crazy. You're usually so quiet and reserved Simon couldn't stop making noises. And, gods, it was driving you crazy.

His movements become more erratic, the rhythm is lost, and you understand that he is already on the edge. At the finish line, he decides to change the position a little and with one hand presses your knees to your chest with his elbow, and with the fingers of his other hand slides between your plush folds and mercilessly attacks your clit.

You have difficulty breathing, the pleasure is so sharp that it borders on pain.

The orgasm that has rolled over you stuns you, your eyes darken, and you do not understand whether you are screaming out loud or just opening your mouth in a silent scream. His hand squeezes your throat, crushing the damned ribbon bow. Not hard, just enough to hold you in place while he pounds into you with all his might, chasing his own release.

You both breathe heavily, trying to come to your senses. Simon covers you with his body, pressing you into the mattress. Having recovered a little, you look at yourself: your stockings are torn, only pitiful shreds are left of your bra, your garters and panties are lying somewhere on the floor, and you’re sure that you’ll not wear them again. You cannot hold back a giggle and, licking your dry lips, you say:

“That was my first beautiful lingerie set. I liked it, actually!”

“I’ll buy you ten more in exchange,” Simon mutters contentedly, raising himself on his elbow and looking at you with loving eyes. He rolls off you and lies on his side, pressing you to himself. His hand lays on your stomach in a possessive manner, drawing intricate patterns with his fingertips on your sweat-dampened skin. And for the first time in your life, you do not mind someone touching your stomach.

You are silent for a while, enjoying each other’s warmth and the post-orgasmic bliss. He looks into your eyes, satisfied, like a cat that has had its fill of cream. And that look fills you with confidence. You turn on your side to face him and ask playfully, 

“I guess you enjoyed your gift?”

A chuckle escapes his lips, and his hand slides down your back to your ass, squeezing tightly. His gaze falls on your neck, where the ribbon with the bow is still dangling. And a playful, hungry light lights up in his eyes.

“I haven’t even finished unwrapping it yet,” he purrs in your ear, peeling off the remnants of your once very beautiful set of lingerie.

Call of Duty Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The ride back home was uncomfortable. 

It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.

When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it? 

The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.

It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family. 

To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this. 

Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight. 

“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.” 

His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.” 

You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first? 

“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really? 

“I want to do it.” 

“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”

“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”

“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”

Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.” 

— —

Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure. 

It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was. 

Did Sukuna feel the same? 

He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.

Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.” 

Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was? 

“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.” 

When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. 

You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk. 

Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed. 

Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…

“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was. 

“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.” 

Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”

He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.” 

You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.” 

Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.” 

Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?” 

“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.” 

“That’s—”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”

He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom. 

And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds. 

“Mm…”

Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it. 

Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked. 

With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here. 

“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?” 

Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.” 

When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V. 

“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.” 

You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking. 

Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it? 

And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”

“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.” 

“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such. 

He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.” 

Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?” 

“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.” 

Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body. 

His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”

Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?” 

You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment. 

Holy fuck was all you could say. 

He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty. 

“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.” 

You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?

“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier. 

Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing. 

“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.” 

In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself. 

This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out. 

“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?” 

All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw? 

“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.” 

His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.” 

“Okay…” 

You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you. 

He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be. 

You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding. 

But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore? 

You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?

The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance. 

“Haaa—!” 

“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“N-No, I—!”

It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock. 

“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!” 

“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”

“I SAID STOP!” 

Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you. 

Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.” 

“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.” 

“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”

His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have. 

You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”

“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.” 

His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.” 

The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”

“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?” 

“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.” 

Why did he sound like he was giving up? 

You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”

He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.” 

Then… then…

“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”

Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.” 

He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.” 

— —

Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay. 

No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly. 

Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s. 

“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”

You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.” 

Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.” 

“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on. 

“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued. 

And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”

Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”

“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”

“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”  

You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”

Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this? 

Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.” 

“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.” 

You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.

Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon. 

“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school. 

“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.” 

“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”

“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”

“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”

Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”

“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.” 

“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”

You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.” 

The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.” 

“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.” 

“Be serious,” you warned. 

To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.” 

You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”

“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.” 

“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?” 

Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.” 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?” 

Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior. 

“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”

Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.” 

“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment. 

The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.” 

“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark. 

“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”

You argued. “No, he’s not—”

“Are you sure he isn’t?” 

It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.

It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?” 

Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires. 

She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.” 

No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?

“Can you please just tell me?” 

Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.” 

Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.

“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”

— —

Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this. 

First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too. 

If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue. 

But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together. 

Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.

But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating. 

It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close. 

“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face. 

His ex-girlfriend of three years. 

Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?” 

The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies. 

“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.” 

“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?” 

She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.” 

Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?” 

“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”

While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here? 

“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.” 

Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?” 

Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.” 

A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve. 

“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.” 

Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!” 

“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.” 

“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head. 

And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed? 

Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it. 

He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?” 

Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.” 

By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?” 

“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.” 

“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?” 

She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?” 

Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”

“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.” 

Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life. 

And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right. 

But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart. 

**

“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?” 

Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.” 

“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp. 

“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.” 

You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?” 

“You’re being ridiculous.” 

“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.” 

“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.” 

**

“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?” 

What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad. 

“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”

He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit. 

“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.” 

He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.” 

**

“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.” 

Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared. 

But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.” 

“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“...Alright.” 

“Okay.” 

“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.” 

He knew what she was about to do next. 

And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses. 

But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.” 

“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”

Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”

Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”

“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”

Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”

Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.” 

— —

5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night. 

So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you. 

And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago. 

In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do. 

Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart. 

“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?” 

Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?” 

Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.” 

You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?” 

“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.” 

“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?” 

Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out. 

“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”

Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.” 

“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!” 

He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”

“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!” 

“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.” 

You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.” 

“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”  

…

…

…

“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”

— —

It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you. 

You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you. 

In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.

But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way. 

What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others. 

And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up. 

“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop. 

Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”

“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”

He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.” 

“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully. 

His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.” 

Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well. 

“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.” 

Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.” 

You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”

“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.” 

Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future. 

“Satoru?”

He met your gaze. “Yeah?”

As soon as you realized that you wanted a child from him, you lost your peace. The only formed thought that still circulated in your head was: “I want to be filled with him.”

As if possessed, you reached for his fly, as soon as he crossed the threshold of the apartment. Like a bitch in heat, you wanted him all the time. Sleep? Food? Entertainment? To hell, the only hunger you're experiencing right now is your greedy hot pussy's hunger for his seed.

The weekends turned into endless marathons, as if you had set a goal to milk König dry. And as if mocking you, right now, when you needed it most, he refused to cum inside you. He was ready to cover your entire body with his spent, except for one single place where you passionately desired him the most. And trying to hold him with your arms or legs was pointless. Neither strength nor cunning could help you get what you wanted.

After the third time in a row, when he cum on your stomach again, smearing his seed all over your skin, you couldn't stand it and started crying. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, and pathetic sobs escaped your lips.

“What happened, Princess? Did I hurt you?” he asked with fear in his voice, trying to look into your eyes.

“No-o-o.”

“Then what happened? Why are you crying?”

“You again…” Sob. “Not inside me!..”

“I don't understand, baby. Do you want me to cum in you?”

König laid down next to you, raising himself on his elbow. His hot palm covered your belly, all sticky with his cum, gently stroking. And this caress only made you cry harder. Under his palm, a new life could ripen!

“Yeah!” you whined.

“And why is it so important?” he asked with a grin.

“Because I want to give birth to your child!” you blurted out a little offended. How could he not understand this?!

He laughed softly, pressing you closer to him and kissing your temple. And he hugged you until you stopped sobbing.

“So you want a child from me? Do you want to walk around swollen with my offspring inside your belly? Mm?”

“Yes. I want us to have a family together.”

König didn't answer, but his palm slid lower between your legs, covering you with a possessive gesture.

“How can I refuse you?” he purred in your ear, sliding two fingers into your pliable body.

For the next few hours, he filled you again and again, until his seed began to flow out with each thrust.

“König, no, it's flowing out,” you whined pitifully, pressing your fingers to push everything back in.

“Don't worry, Princess, I'll fill you again and again, as many times as it takes.”

You exhaled with relief and relaxed, imagining how he would coo at your big round belly in a few months, how you would prepare the apartment together for the baby's arrival, as you’d become a real family.

The only thing you didn't know was that König had a vasectomy a few years ago. And that he would never share you with anyone else, not even his own child. You are his. You belong to him. And he won't share

Masterlist

Last night had divided your life into “before” and “after”. Even your kidnapping hadn’t changed your brain chemistry as much as König’s strong fingers in your pussy. Now you thought only about what else he could do to you. Or what you could do to him.

Memories washed over you like a hot wave. It was as if you were not yourself. How greedily you impaled yourself, now on his fingers, now on the toy. In fact, he practically did nothing, he just extended a helping hand to you. And even that was enough to drive you crazy. What will happen to you when he takes complete control over you? When he decides where, how and at what speed to touch you. When he decides when and how many times you cum. When he gives you orders in that deep voice of his, a strict tone that does not tolerate objections. And how one day you disobey him out of curiosity, so that he could punish you. Oh, what else could his huge hands do? How would you scream when his hot palms slapped your ass?

Your thoughts refused to switch to other topics. You were eating breakfast, and you were wiggling your ass on his lap, realizing that the only barrier between his cock and your pussy was a couple of thin layers of fabric. He was holding out a fork with a piece of omelet to your mouth, and you were already imagining how your lips would close on the head of his cock. He was dabbing the corners of your lips with a napkin from vanilla cream, and you were imagining how he would wipe his own cum from your face. You were lost to the world.

You secretly hoped that after what happened, König would take the initiative, touch and squeeze you. Gods, you hoped that he would bend you over the dining table and fuck you so hard that your legs wouldn’t hold out. But no. He was still kind to you, caring, and all his touches were certainly very gentle, without a hint of passion. He did not try to grab your ass, did not slide his fingers between your legs, did not try to bite your neck. He did not even try to kiss you on the lips!

In his every action, in every gesture, in every look and in every word you saw either a hint or teasing. It reached the point of absurdity: you thought that he put on a tight T-shirt again just to seduce you (although all his T-shirts were the same, and you knew it).

It was approaching lunchtime, you were sitting on his lap on the couch, and you could not stop fidgeting. You hoped that your awkward movements would turn him on, but, frankly, you had no idea what to do to turn on a man.

“Princess, are you uncomfortable? Do you want to sit next to me?”

There was no hint of mockery in his voice, only innocent, sincere concern.

“It's okay,” you muttered and fell silent, folding your arms across your chest.

Your irritation grew and you began to twitch your leg nervously. It would seem that your hunger should have been satisfied for some time: two mind-blowing orgasms after two weeks of abstinence should have calmed you down a little. But no, things only got worse. Now all you could think about was how to get into his pants. Like an obsessed rabbit during mating season.

Hot palms fall on your hips, and you freeze, looking at his fingers. Really?.. You are already imagining how his hands slide higher, when suddenly he simply lifts you up and sits you down next to him. König turns his whole body to you, takes your palms in his and looks into your face. His gaze is very serious, he does not smile and does not try to tease you. He is really worried.

“Princess, i’m worried. I want to know what‘s going on in your sweet little head.” 

You remain silent, blinking your eyes stupidly. How can you say that you want him? That you want him to pounce on you and fuck you like a cheap whore? That you want him to fuck your brains out, so not a single thought left in your skull except for thoughts of him and how good he makes you feel?

You shake your head and lower it, staring at your bare knees. Wishing he would put his huge hot palm on your knee and slowly, teasingly, rise higher and higher...

The fingers you dreamed about and which you seemed to still feel inside you, tighten on your jaw. König lifts your face sharply and comes so close that the tip of his nose practically touches yours. You see furious lights in his eyes. And everything in your stomach turns over.

“I will say this once, Princess, and I will not repeat it even to you twice,” he hissed through clenched jaws. “Do not even try to hide anything from me. All your actions, your words, thoughts, feelings and desires - all of them belong to me. No lies, no omissions, do you understand me?”

You nod quickly, not daring to even blink. You should be terrified, you should be scared. But you literally melt, you feel how your body relaxes and goes limp, how desire flares up in you with renewed vigor, and “Yes, Master” almost escapes from your lips.

“I'll ask for the last time,” König warns, looking you in the eyes expressively. He really means it. “What's going on?”

You hesitate and drag out the answer. Part of you is still capable of feeling shame and embarrassment, but the other wants to honestly admit it, because... He cares about you! Satisfies all your needs. You could have asked for drinks and delicious foods. So why can't you ask him to please you with his mouth?

“I want more,” you whisper.

He only squints, not understanding what you mean.

“Explain yourself.”

“Since last night, my head has been filled with dirty thoughts. I can't think of anything else. And you act like nothing happened, like it meant nothing to you, and I…”

He shuts you up unceremoniously with a kiss. Aggressively, he bites into your lips. His fingers are still clutching your jaw. For some reason, you can’t breathe, and you’re almost passing out when he finally pulls away. His gaze is still serious, but the corner of his mouth is raised in a predatory smirk.

“How many more times do I have to tell you for you to get it?” His smirk becomes more predatory. “You just.” A kiss. “Need.” A kiss. “To ask. Come on, princess. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Like yesterday. You were so brave. And you were rewarded for it. Come on. Speak.” His fingers tighten, and his voice drops to a threatening growl.

“I want you to touch me.”

Oh, no, honey, you won't get off that easy.

You realized with horror that he really wasn't going to spare you today. He was going to force you to tell him exactly what you wanted from him, and if you refused, he would either punish you or leave you unsatisfied. You couldn't let that happen. And if you had to act like a bitch in heat to get what you wanted, that's what you were going to act like.

“I want you to throw me down on the couch, spread my legs, and lick me so hard I'll forget my name,” you blurted out, trying not to think about how vulgar and disgustingly obscene you sounded.

Konig groaned. He closed his eyes, clearly running your words through his head over and over again, and you thought he might come without touching himself, just by doing that. The right answer was right under your nose all the time - to be honest and open, because that's what he always wanted from you. For you to openly tell him about your desires. Why did you have to torment yourself like that if you could either ask him or just jump on him and ride him until your legs give out? It's good that you have him. At least someone with brains.

Although, you couldn't tell from his eyes that there was even one coherent thought left in his skull.

You flop down on the couch. You don't have time to realize what's happening, and your T-shirt is already lifted, your legs are lying on König's shoulders, and his hot breath is blowing heat into your wet pussy. Without ceremony, without trying to prolong the pleasure or tease you, he gets down to business. His wide tongue covers you entirely, and your whole body shudders from the long-awaited caress. He literally drools all over your pussy, you feel his saliva mixed with your arousal flowing down to your ass. You close your eyes and throw your head back, not noticing how you dig your heels into his back, pressing, pulling him closer to you.

There is no exquisite technique or divine mastery in his movements. He simply eats you with a frantic appetite. As if he has never tasted anything tastier, anything sweeter in his life. He kisses your clit, caresses your labia with his tongue, bites, sucks, rubs his tongue, and moans. Moans with bliss. Moans even louder than you.

Oh, darling, he hasn’t thought about your pleasure. The second his tongue touched your slick, when his brain realized your taste, he was lost, reduced to a hungry, dumb beast. He will eat you. Devour you whole. Will not leave a single piece of you.

The first orgasm hits you unexpectedly. It's not very strong, but it's no less sweet. You squeeze König's head with your thighs, shuddering with your whole body, covering his face with your juices. If someone less physically developed were in his place, you would have broken his neck. But König is strong enough to endure it. And even more.

He doesn't stop for a second. He doesn't slow down his movements, continuing to furiously attack your most sensitive parts with his tongue. The pleasure begins to border on pain, and you try to weakly push his head away from your hyper-sensitive pussy. You might as well try to move a mountain. He growls discontentedly, grabbing your hips with his hands and pressing into you even harder, as if in spite concentrating his attacks on your clit. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, it hurts, but the second orgasm is coming against your will, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

The second wave is devastating. You thrash from side to side, trying to pull away, crawl away, push König away with your hands, your feet, all your limbs together. Tears are streaming down your cheeks. It hurts, you need a break, you can't take it anymore.

“Please, König, let go, that's enough, it hurts.”

But he doesn't hear. Your moans, your cries of sharp, painful pleasure, your convulsive gasps - all of this is music to his ears. He squeezes you tighter, leaving bruises on your skin, squeezing your plump flesh as if his life depended on it.

The next orgasm doesn't bring you joy, it's pure torture. All your nerves are pierced by an electric current, your muscles are tense to the limit, you are shaking, arching. Your face is smeared with tears, snot and drool, you are in such chaos, you are in so much pain, so bad, and you can’t do anything to stop it. The feeling of helplessness goes from exciting to terrifying. What if he doesn’t stop? With each passing second, the agony is getting stronger.

Another orgasm, a scream tears through your lungs, you no longer have the strength to resist, your body goes limp and you resign yourself to your fate. This agony cannot be stopped, it will continue forever, it will drive you crazy, it will be your death. You lose touch with reality, feeling only the flame between your legs. Only incoherent muttering escapes from your lips.

Suddenly it all ends.

“Princess, what is your name?” the sarcasm oozes from his words, you turn your face to him wearily and look into his eyes with confusion. “What is your name?” he repeats his question.

What is your name? He knows your name perfectly well! He called you by name... so long ago, if you think about it. Okay, you know who you are. You!.. You... You whine pitifully, covering your face with your hands.

“I don't know,” you say between sobs.

König covers you with his huge, powerful body, and you find yourself locked in a cocoon of his strong arms. The lips that a few seconds ago tortured you with pleasure furiously and mercilessly now gently touch your forehead. The hands that held you in an iron grip, not letting you move away from the sweet torture, gently embrace you and stroke your back. You cry, cry, cry, and you can't stop. And you don't understand why you're crying. You're still shaking from the sweet pain between your legs, you can't even move your thighs from the thrill of the sensations. Who are you? What are you? Were you even someone?

“Come on, Princess, come on.” His gentle voice drives you crazy, it promises care, tenderness, a twisted version of love, and you believe it, you want everything, you want to believe all his sweet promises, because he knows what's best for you. “I just did what you asked, huh?”

You hum questioningly, unable to utter a word.

You asked me to make you forget your own name. And look, you really did forget it. See, darling? I fulfill all your wishes. And I refuse you nothing. So don't be afraid to ask.” König pauses to look you over. He pulls the hem of his T-shirt and wipes your tear-stained face with it. Without breaking eye contact, he continues: “I will do anything for you. I live for you. I will kill for you. One word from you - and any of your whims is fulfilled.”

You don't know what to say to that. And you don't even want to think about it. He is so close, his face is so close, his lips are so close. You tiredly put your palm on his cheek, stroking it gently, your gaze jumping from his lips to his eyes and back. You want to kiss him, but you don't want to ask. But you don't want to initiate a kiss either. If only he could really read your thoughts...

“Do you want to kiss?” he asks, smiling. This time there is no mockery or malice in his question. Just like in his gaze. It is full of warmth, tenderness and love. And even the lights of obsessive madness went out.

You just nod tiredly, and the next moment he touches your lips. He kisses you tenderly, affectionately, sweetly. And for so long. It’s not a violent impulse, not a violent attack. And you melt. And you don’t notice how you switch off.

You wake up a few hours later, curled up on the couch under a blanket. König is not there, which makes you anxious. You jump up and, without letting go of the blanket, go looking for him. Bedroom? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. Hallway? Empty, but his shoes are there. His room? But you can’t go into his room. You can’t, right?

You go to the closed door and listen. But you don’t hear anything. Taking a deep breath, you knock softly and shudder with your whole body when you hear a loud imperative “Come in.” You open the door and take a step into the darkness.

A table, a metal cabinet, a bunch of monitors. Three of them are turned off, while two are showing surveillance footage. From this apartment. The rooms are viewed from several angles, from several perspectives, so that no nook or cranny is left unattended. You were right: you would never be able to find a secluded corner. You awkwardly shuffle around the threshold, and König turns to you and holds out his hand.

“Come here, Princess.”

You smile nervously and approach him in small steps. As soon as you get close, he grabs you by the waist and sits you on his lap. In your place.

“I was just reviewing our recording,” he says, kissing your temple and looking at the screen. You follow his gaze and see yourself sprawled on the couch with his head between your legs. Your cheeks flush with shame and embarrassment, but you don’t look away. He turns up the volume and you hear yourself moaning wildly. You hide your face in your hands, bashful. You didn't know you could make sounds like that.

“Oh, don't be shy, Princess. That was amazing. I want to cut the sound out of that video and make a ten-hour version to listen to on my headphones while I'm at work.”

You blush even more, involuntarily imagining it. König laughs softly, seeing your reaction, and hugs you even tighter.

“How sweet you are.”

You relax, melt in his arms, your mind almost completely switches off, not a single thought bothers you. You don't need to think. He will think for you. All you need to do is sit on his lap, do what he tells you, and if you want something, say it out loud right away and without embarrassment. Any of your whims. Any of your caprices. He will do everything for you. Just ask. 

“König, I want you,” you say quietly, hiding your face under the blanket. You feel a wave of trembling run through his body, his breathing getting ragged.

“And now look into my eyes,” he orders, revealling your face and grabbing your chin so that your eyes meet.

“I want you,” you repeat barely audibly. Your palm seems to cover his cheek on its own, and your fingers gently stroke his skin, sliding to his lips. You have no more doubts. You want him. You want him with your soul and body, you want him to fill your entire being, you want to breathe him in, feel his taste on your tongue, feel him deep inside your own body. You don't want to go back to a cold and lonely meaningless existence, you don't want to vegetate alone, buried under routine and everyday life, you want to be his girl, his toy, his obsession, to live and breathe only for him.

“You know the rules, Princess. Be specific.”

“I want your cock. I want you to fuck me the way you think I deserve. I want you to hold me until you're satisfied. I want you to use me for your own pleasure. I want you to destroy me.”

He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to calm down. And when he looks at you again, you no longer see a person in front of you, you see an animal, a monster, a beast, a demon. Part of you still has time to regret what you said. He really will destroy you. But you still open your mouth obediently when he kisses you, hot and greedy, wrapping your arms around his neck when he throws the blanket off you and tears apart the T-shirt that still hides your body. He picks you up in his arms, and you wrap your legs around him. König carries you into the bedroom and lays you down on the bed.

You try to pull his T-shirt off, but to take it off, you will have to break the kiss, which you categorically do not want to do. You lift it as high as you can and run your hands over his body, studying, caressing. His nipples are so small compared to yours, but so hard, and his whole body shivers so cutely as soon as you touch them with your fingers. You want to tease him more, to turn him on, to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he intercepts your hands and presses them to the bed above your head.

He says nothing, but you can clearly read the order in his eyes: don’t move. He will do everything himself, all control belongs to him. He will take you as he sees fit. You swallow loudly, freezing in anticipation.

His huge palms slide greedily over your body. He squeezes you, kneads you like dough. If it were anyone else in his place, you would not know where to put yourself from embarrassment and shame. But with him... König looks at you with a passionate, greedy gaze, as if he wants to simultaneously squeeze you entirely in his palms or devour you, absorb you completely without a trace. It is as if he sees before him a goddess who has generously rewarded her most ardent admirer with a divine blessing. He sees all your “flaws” as “virtues”, and for the first time in your life you feel irresistible.

He covers your body with kisses, alternating them with bites. Marking his territory, leaving traces of his possession. You flinch in pain and moan in pleasure when the sharpness of his teeth is replaced by the softness of his tongue. You understand that tomorrow you will be covered in bruises, but now it does not matter at all.

You arch your back when he begins to stretch you with two fingers. You are still so sensitive from what he did to you earlier. But you will not ask him to stop.

Slowly a third finger is added. The slight pain from the stretch slowly fades with his passionate kisses. He presses his cheek to your temple, without stopping the movements of his hand, and growls in your ear:

“You are so wet for me, Princess. We don’t even need lube.”

You nod as if he asked you a question, and he only smirks in response. If you're like this now, what will happen to you when he fucks you the way you deserve?

Suddenly, König pulls away and towers over you like a huge, immobile rock. His fingers slowly leave your body and slide to the waistband of his pants. One hand pulls his pants down, the other lifts his T-shirt, revealing a strong, toned stomach. He takes his time, putting on a show for you, watching carefully as your eyes roam over his muscular body and how you bashfully avoid looking at his cock. It’s okay, darling, not all at once. He is patient and will give you time.

Without warning, he grabs your hips and pulls you towards him. Your breath catches at how huge he looks next to you. He rubs his cock against your pussy, lubricating himself with your own wetness. You begin to get nervous, you don't know if you can take him, he is bigger than any toy you have ever had. You swallow nervously and take a deep breath.

“Princess?” König calls you, and you look into his eyes. His gaze is serious. “If you really changed your mind, I can still stop. But once I start, no amount of your begging or tears will stop me.”

Your heart is swelled with love, you are overwhelmed with delight. He is ready to hold back for you, because he does not want to do this against your will! How can you say no to him? You smile and gently touch his hand squeezing your thigh.

“It's okay, I'm just worried. You are... very big…”

You feel your cheeks burning, but you hold his gaze.

“Thank you, baby. Don't worry, you can take me all the way. I will make sure of it.”

The next moment, he pushes into you. His thick head slips inside and your walls grip it tightly. You convulse and hiss through your teeth.

“Quiet, Princess, quiet, relax,” he gently mumbles, caressing your body, massaging, stroking, distracting you in every possible way. His rough palm falls on the bottom of your stomach and his thumb covers your clit, pressing lightly. Pleasure quickly overshadows the pain of penetration, and you finally relax.

His thrusts are slow, shallow. Each time he enters a few millimeters deeper. He is in no hurry, stretching you, changing the shape of your insides to suit himself. And when he finally enters you all the way, you are already on the verge of madness from his lazy caresses. It seems to you that he pierced you to the very throat, you feel so filled. Filled by him. As if the missing piece of the puzzle finally found its place. And that place is the depths of your pussy.

He's still moving irritatingly slowly, his thrusts not enough to bring you to orgasm, his caresses seem to deliberately keep you on the edge, not allowing you to step over it. König wants you like this - almost cumming. But only almost. And he'll keep you in this state for as long as he can.

All you can do is lie there and take it. His thrusts are picking up speed, the dirty sound of skin slapping against skin is spreading throughout the room, making your cheeks burn. You can't breathe, you're sobbing from the overabundance of sensations. He throws your legs over his waist, and you wrap your arms around him, pressing him closer. He lowers himself onto his elbows on either side of your head, he's so close, you can feel his ragged breathing on your face, you can see the furious fire in his dilated pupils, you can see beads of sweat on his forehead. And you can feel his movements becoming more and more furious and frantic. He's close, but still trying to prolong the pleasure. His hoarse, low moans tickle your ear, and you start to moan louder yourself. You feel so good, so good. Finally, you've become one. You don't understand where you end and where he begins. You just grab him with your hands and legs and tremble under his pressure.

He changes the angle of penetration so that with each thrust his pubis presses against your hypersensitive clit. And you feel how everything in your lower abdomen contracts. You need just a little bit. Just a little bit.

“König, Kön... I... I!” you babble incoherently, trying with all your might to hold back.

“Cum, Princess, cum,” he growls in your ear, and this becomes the last straw.

A wave of orgasm covers you and it is not like any other you have had before. Each spasm of pleasure brings you a little pain, and this only sharpens your senses. You dig your nails into his shoulders and hear his muffled wheeze in your ear. And only when you finally let go and you can think again, you understand that he followed you. His body slowly goes limp and he presses you into the mattress. You find it hard to breathe under the weight of his body, but you feel so good. You lie like this for a few minutes, coming to your senses. You even have time to think that it’s not that scary. Oh, naive, that was just a warm-up.

You don’t have time to gasp before König turns you over onto your stomach and lifts your ass up. His hot palms land on your buttocks with a juicy slap, spreading them apart, giving him a stunning view of your stretched hole. Thrust, second, third, deeper, harder. And now he’s already fucking you into the mattress with such force that you can’t breathe normally, you only moan pathetically, clinging to the sheets.

He torments you for several hours, filling you with his hot seed over and over again. You’ve long since lost touch with reality, everything between your legs is burning, you’ve lost count of your orgasms. The sheets beneath you are wet from your tears, saliva and your shared juices. You cry, begging him to stop, but he only growls in your ear:

“I warned you, Princess.”

And continues to torment your body.

You begin to lose consciousness, to fall into darkness, but he does not stop. He releases his last load into your already unconscious body and stops only when the dawn breaks outside the window.

You come to your senses only by the next evening. You are wrapped in a soft fluffy blanket and sitting on König's lap. You are in the living room on the couch. You fidget, trying to stretch your stiff muscles, and he looks at you, smiling tenderly.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” He kisses your forehead. “How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?”

You only nod silently in response, your throat too dry to speak. König eagerly presses the neck of the water bottle to your lips, and you take a few greedy sips.

“I thought I wouldn't survive the night,” you breathe out and sleepily snuggle up to him. He hugs you tighter and presses his cheek to the top of your head.

“I did exactly what you asked, Princess.”

“I know. Thank you…”

“You need to eat.”

“Can we just sit like this for a little while longer? I feel so good right now.”

“Of course, baby.”

You enjoy each other's closeness for a few minutes. Then he feeds you, even though you don't feel hungry. And then you cuddle some more until it's time to go to bed. It would seem that you've slept all day and are well-rested, but in his arms you find such peace that you fall asleep and sleep until the morning. He's getting ready for work and you're so sad. You don't want him to go. You want him to stay with you so you can cuddle, kiss, be affectionate, fool around together. But you know that's impossible. He has to earn a living for both of you so he can spoil his girl and take good care of her.

You kiss him off with a tender kiss and ask if he's coming home for lunch.

“How can I leave you alone all day? Of course I will.”

He kisses you on the forehead and leaves. Yes, he comes to dinner. Yes, you eat together. And yes, you kiss him goodbye again when he leaves. And this time he hugs you tighter, squeezing your ass with his hands.

“It's a crime to leave you even for half a day. Especially when you're so sweet, so pliable.”

You giggle and playfully push him out the door.

And until the evening, you think about how to please him. How to thank him for everything he's done for you. He turned your world upside down, he made you so happy! He doesn't want you to do housework, but there's something you can do to show how grateful you are to him...

An idea comes to you suddenly, and you smile widely, pleased with yourself.

And when König comes home in the evening and opens the door to the apartment, the first thing he sees is you. On the floor in front of him. On your knees. Completely naked.

“Welcome back,” you coo affectionately and open your mouth, sticking out your tongue as far as it will go. Your invitation is eloquent and unambiguous. And König accepts it with pleasure.

His hands reach for his fly, and, full of delight, he tells you:

“I'm home.”

And you can't say anything back to him, because it's hard to talk with your mouth full.

Masterlist | Extra

You thought you were going crazy. He pretended like nothing happened. Like everything was normal. There was no change in his behaviour. He came out of the bathroom and just plopped down next to you on the couch, cradling you against his side. He turned on the TV again, but this time it was just some movie. Not a home porno starring you.

You felt so strange. On the one hand, you were terrified. On the other, the moisture between your legs hinted eloquently at arousal. Maybe it was just your body's reaction to an unexpected sexual stimulus - you hadn't touched yourself in a long time. Yeah, it certainly didn't mean anything. You were definitely not sexually attracted to your captor. To this huge man with incredibly prominent muscles and a huge… No, no, no!

The thought of it set your cheeks on fire and you shivered uncomfortably, squeezing your thighs together noping that it would help to keep the flames between your legs at bay. You needed to cool down. At least get a breath of air that didn't have his scent in it.

“I'm… going to the bathroom, okay?” you asked, pulling yourself out of his bear hug.

He smiled encouragingly at you, pecked you on the temple and let you go.

You leaned over the sink and stared at your reflection in the mirror. It was as if someone else was looking at you. Your eyes were frantic, your cheeks flushed and there were even drops of sweat on your forehead. Breathing heavily, you put your hands under the icy water, but it didn't calm you down. Intrigued, you slid your fingers between your thighs. Wet and slippery. Moaning softly, you pulled your hand back under the cold water, even though your whole being was begging, screaming, demanding to be caressed. You couldn't. The door wasn't locked and König would probably come wondering what's taking you so long. Perhaps when he goes to work on Monday? Or when he locks himself in his room after lunch? You sighed desperately, turned off the water, tidied up and returned to the room.

König was kneeling in front of the sofa, scrubbing it with a brush. The spot where you sat was wet. He turned and gave you the most smug grin you'd ever seen. He knew.

A wave of unbearable shame washed over you. Saying nothing, you ran into the bedroom and hid under the covers. As if that would save you.

He knew.

To your surprise, he didn't bother you. And part of you was… disappointed? In the few hours you'd been alone, you'd had all sorts of scenarios in your head, each more suggestive than the last. How he'd come over to you, pull the covers off you and spread your legs so he could see how wet you were. The way the taunts came out of his lips, the way he called you a pathetic, hungry slut who'd melted away at the mere sight of his cock.

You moaned loudly into your pillow, these fantasies did nothing to alleviate the situation between your legs. You had to get your mind off him and stop thinking about his big, fat…

“Princess, dinner's ready. Come out.”

You jumped in surprise. You didn't think you could look him in the eyes, but you didn't have to. You obediently walked out, even though you wanted to stay in the shelter of your bed forever. But you realised that König wouldn't let you miss lunch. He cared about you.

You ate in silence. You couldn't even look up at him, let alone make eye contact. You chewed until there was not a crumb left on your plate. You didn't even move when he started to clean up. You hoped you wouldn't have to “thank him for the food” after every meal.

When he finished tidying up, he walked past you, still chained to the chair, kissed you on the top of your head and went to his room. Relief mixed with disappointment and confusion. So many different feelings and emotions were tearing you apart that you felt dizzy. Trying not to look at the couch, you skipped into the bedroom and got into bed. You needed to rest your brain, it was becoming unbearable.

You were awakened by a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Time for dinner.”

Gods, there was so much sweetness and affection in his voice. In other circumstances, you'd sell your soul to the devil to be woken by his gentle voice. And in the morning it still had that slight, sexy huskiness… You moaned pitifully and hid your face in your pillow.

“I don't want to,' your own voice had more whimper than resistance.”

“You must, Princess. Come on, we're having a light dinner tonight, but we still have to eat.”

You haven't moved.

“Or do you want to eat in bed? Shall I spoon-feed you?” he asked with a light, unabashed sneer, pushing the edge of the pillow so that at least part of your face was visible.

“No,” you said, getting up reluctantly and rubbing your eyes.

“Too bad. I wouldn't mind feeding you by hand.” Ignoring this admission, you got out of bed. He held out his hand to you, you put your palm into his, and you walked out of the bedroom. To your surprise, the table was set for one.

“Aren't you going to eat?” you asked, puzzled.

“I am.”

He sat down, pushing his chair awkwardly away from the table, and before you knew what was happening, he had pulled you onto his lap. You squeaked in surprise, which only made him grin. You noticed that there were two forks by the plate, and König gave you one. As if to set an example, he began to eat, looking at you expectantly. It was uncomfortable for you to reach for the plate, you had to bend down and squirm on his lap. He didn't seem to mind at all; he only put his arm around your waist when you bent down to take another bite with your fork.

You finished the awkward meal and washed it down with a glass of juice. At least you didn't share it between the two of you. With a final squeeze and a kiss on your shoulder, König gently lowered you to the floor and lightly slapped your bum in the direction of the sofa:

“Wait for me on the sofa.” Noticing your suspicious look, he added with a mischievous smile: “Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything. We'll just snuggle up and watch the movie.”

You relaxed a little and walked obediently to the couch, deliberately avoiding looking at the spot where you'd left your slippery mark this morning. You cowered in a corner and turned on the television. König, who had finished tidying up, sat down in the middle and, catching your eye, patted himself on the thigh. Reluctantly, you crawled closer, unsure what he wanted from you. Sensing your confusion, he pulled you towards him and placed you sideways on his lap so that your lower back rested against one of his knees and your knees were over the other. He rested your head on his shoulder and wrapped both arms around you, pulling you against him and supporting you comfortably under your back. You hated to admit it, but you felt safe in that embrace. You wanted to close your eyes and drift off, focused on his heartbeat beneath your ear. You felt small again. A feeling you'd never hoped to experience in your life.

He took the remote control out of your hands and turned on a movie. You didn't pay any attention to what was happening on the screen. You were in your cosy, warm cocoon, where even bad thoughts could not penetrate. It seemed as if there was no threat to you in the protective ring of his arms, not only from the outside but also from the inside. He held you until you dozed off. He woke you when the credits rolled.

You blinked sleepily a few times.

“You're so sleepy today, Princess. What are you going to do this night?”

“Sleep some more.”

“And have sweet dreams about me?” he asked with a smile. You gave an embarrassed smile, but didn't answer.

It was the first night you'd slept under the same blanket. And the absence of that thin barrier between your bodies had completely changed your brain chemistry. You lay on your side with König snuggled against you from behind. Just as he had done several nights in a row before. He held you close, his breath tickling your neck. Just like the nights before. But now there were only two layers of thin fabric between your bottom and his private parts: his underwear and his pajama pants. Your T-shirt was pulled up and you pressed your bare bum against him. Your heart was racing and your cheeks were burning. You couldn't sleep, but you couldn't pull away from his tight embrace either. You stayed awake until almost morning, listening to his measured breathing and the pounding of your heart in your own ears.

Sunday was not much different from Saturday. Except that there was no fooling around on the sofa after breakfast. You were sluggish from lack of sleep, but you resisted the urge to lie down for a nap as best you could. If you had to sleep under the same covers again, you wanted to pass out as soon as possible.

You spent most of the day on the sofa doing one craft or another while König tidied up the flat. He hadn't given you any chores. It was awkward to loiter while someone else cleaned, but you remembered what he had said about you not being here to clean, and you went on with your work. When he finished, he sat down next to you, but didn't bother you. He just watched with a smile as your hands fluttered over the embroidery. He didn't even change the TV, even though you were watching something he would never have chosen. He was respectful. And that made you feel good.

In the evening, when you got out of the shower, he was waiting for you on the sofa with a suspicious-looking bag in his hands. He patted on the sofa beside him and you obediently sat down. A second later, your feet were resting on the inside of his thigh and he was pulling the most common nail clippers out of the bag. And for the next few minutes, he simply cut your nails. Except that all your attention was focused on the fact that you were practically touching his… intimate parts with your feet.

When he was done with your nails, he spent a few more minutes massaging your feet, rubbing oil into them. You were ticklish, and you giggled at his particularly careless touches, but on the whole you were rather pleased. No one had ever done this to you before. Never cared so selflessly. No one had ever touched you as if you were the most tender and delicate flower in the garden.

When he was finished, he kissed your knee, took a pair of fluffy socks from the bag and put them on you, then went to the bathroom. You fell asleep quickly that night. The massage had relaxed you and you were almost sleepless last night.

You woke up in the middle of the night. Blinking sleepily, you didn't realise what had woken you until you heard heavy breathing behind you. Only then did you feel the mattress shaking. Your ears rang and your face flushed as you realised what was happening. He was pleasuring himself again, pulling you against him with his free hand. His movements were quick and ruthless as far as you could tell, the wet sounds muffled by the blanket and his heavy breathing. Even if he did notice that you were awake, it didn't embarrass him in any way and he continued until he came, barely keeping his moans under control. His body shuddered a few times and everything fell silent. Forgetting how to breathe, you just stared into the darkness of the bedroom in front of you, feeling the heat of the arousal spreading between your legs.

A hundred different thoughts could have gone through your mind. And any one of them would have made more sense than the pathetic “That's not fair! Why does he get to jerk off and I don't?!”

You were practically panting with resentment and injustice, clenching your thighs. It's okay, it's okay, he'll go to work and you'll have fun. He carefully slid off the bed, disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and returned to you. He snuggled up against your back as if nothing had happened, kissed your shoulder and fell silent.

In the morning you still felt bitter, so you remained silent, your lips puckered. You chewed your breakfast in silence, lazily picking at your plate with your fork. Even if he had noticed your state (and you were 100% sure he had), he hadn't said anything. Just before he left, he kissed your temple, hugged you tightly for a few seconds, inhaled your scent and whispered in your ear:

“Don't mess around without me, Princess. I'll know.”

It was as if he knew what you were about to do. You blushed to the tips of your ears, but he just grinned and winked at you and went away.

You felt anxious all day. You knew there were cameras in the apartment, but you didn't know if they were in every room. You hoped that at least the bathroom was free from surveillance, but then you remembered that he'd put a camera in your bathroom, which meant that there wasn't a single corner in the whole flat where you could hide from his eyes and indulge your lust.

He didn't come home for dinner. That's right, you didn't have to be taken out of bed to the bathroom. You were free to move around the flat on your own. You heated your food and with a nervous twitch of your foot, you swallowed the contents of the container, not feeling the texture or taste of the food. All your thoughts were focused on one thing: you wanted to cum so badly that you felt numb and dumb. When you finished, you threw the dirty dishes into the sink, but didn't wash them.

You felt a strange anxiety, and you paced nervously, biting your nails. Something was wrong. Something wasn't right. You felt cold and uncomfortable, you didn't feel safe. And you couldn't understand why. You were alone! There was no giant walking menace in front of you, nothing to be afraid of. You could relax. You could rest, read, do arts and crafts, watch a silly, funny movie. But all you could do was run around the living room in circles. Unreasonable fear and sexual frustration were driving you mad. You didn't even notice it was evening.

The front door slammed and you rushed out into the hallway. When you saw König, you were relieved. It was like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. As if you could breathe again. Tears welled up in your eyes, and on impulse you ran to him and hugged him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

“What's wrong, baby? Why are you crying?” he asked lovingly.

You just shook your head.

“All right, it's all right. Go wash up and we'll have dinner.”

His affectionate smile, his warm words and the touch of his hot, huge palm on your cheeks made you feel reassured. You felt at home. Smiling through your tears, you obediently went to the bathroom and tried to wash up. When you came out, König was already in the kitchen.

You sat down at the table and stared, enjoying the peace that had suddenly come to you. You were so exhausted from a day of worrying about nothing that you didn't even wonder why you were in such a mess and why the storm had died down by the mere sight of him.

You ate your dinner quietly and moved to the sofa. Only tonight you curled up against his side. And you whimpered in protest when it was time for your evening shower. You didn't want to let him go. Lose his warmth and protection. But you didn't want to be a bad girl either, so you went to the shower and tried to finish as quickly as possible.

König met you in the corridor, opposite the bathroom door. He smiled lovingly and kissed you on the forehead:

“Go straight to bed, I'll be there soon.” Reluctantly, you pulled away and went into the bedroom. You lay on his side of the bed, inhaling the faint scent of his body odour from the sheets. He walked into the bedroom, saw you with your face in his pillow, smiled and climbed into bed.

All night you slept on his shoulder, limbs wrapped tightly around his big hot body.

On Tuesday he came home for lunch.

“You shouldn't be left alone all day. Bad thoughts come into your charming head and upset you. And I promised you a life without suffering. It wouldn't be good if I broke my promise, would it?” he whispered in your ear as you sat on his lap while you ate. It became your new routine. Now you always sat in his arms while you ate, and you always ate from the same plate. By Friday you had even stopped picking up a fork or spoon: he fed you himself.

Every day until the weekend seemed like torture. Whenever you were alone, you were filled with anxiety. You wandered from room to room, looking through books, trying to do arts and crafts, drawing, but nothing really distracted you. It seemed like things were supposed to get better when König came home, right? Not really.

Every night you woke up to him masturbating. You could feel the slight shaking of the mattress, hear his heavy, broken breathing, the wet sounds coming from under the covers. Sometimes you could even hear your own name on his lips. You were torn between wanting to bite your pillow and wanting to jump on top of him and ride him until dawn. You'd never been able to satisfy your hunger.

And now, every time your eyes met König's, you couldn't help but think of his nightly shenanigans. One thought led to another and now your eyes wandered over his muscular body and you remembered how he whispered in your ear how he wanted to taste you.

You felt like you were going mad, the desire overwhelming you every time he came into your vision. But it was wrong. You shouldn't have felt that way about him. He kidnapped you! And… And… Surrounded you with care and affection? Fed you a full home-cooked meal three times a day? Looked after your hygiene? And even organised your entertainment? You were warm, nourished, comfortable. He cuddled you every night and had his arms around you almost every minute you were together. And could you honestly say that you were disgusted by his touch? No, that would be a lie.

You couldn't concentrate on anything and you were wet and needy most of the time. You couldn't get any privacy, you were so used to it that you didn't even try to find a secluded corner. The thought of touching yourself suddenly seemed so wrong, so strange. But the thought of being touched by König… How sweet it would be to clench around his strong, thick fingers… A wave of shivers ran through your body and you didn't notice the soft moan that escaped your lips.

“Are you all right, princess? Are you in pain?”

You bit your lip, breathing heavily. He sat on the couch in his thinnest, tightest T-shirt. It clung to him like a second skin. You felt dizzy. You couldn't take it anymore.

You walked over to him and straddled his hips, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder.

“I can't take it anymore,” you moaned, barely holding back tears.

“What's wrong, beautiful?” There's genuine concern in his voice. A huge warm hand gently strokes your back, and you shiver at the innocent caress.

“Touch me,” you whisper faintly.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I didn't hear you.”

You pull away and look at him with tear-filled eyes, repeating your request:

“Touch me, please.”

A spasm passes across his face and you realise he's struggling to hold back from taking you right here and now. He smiles contentedly at you, the corners of his lips quivering with anticipation. He picks you up in his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist. You don't evenhave time to realise it's the first time you've ever been held in someone's arms, and you're on your back on the bed.

He looms over you, so huge, covering you with his body from the world. You exist only in the field of his arms. Everything else is a dangerous nothingness you don't want to be in. He lies down on his side beside you, one arm tucked under your head, the other throwing one of your legs over his thigh, opening you up. Cool air wafts over your hot slick core, and you feel your toes tingle with anticipation.

A huge palm covers your cheek and you turn your face to meet his gaze. You don't realise what you see in his eyes, but it's something that pulls you in and you sink, disappear into that abyss. Unable to hold back the urge, you lean forward and lightly touch his lips with yours. Your eyebrows arch pitifully, a mute plea in your gaze. But that's not enough for him. He needs you to say it out loud. To admit to him and to yourself that you want him to touch you, to kiss you, to bring you to orgasm, to drive you crazy. He stares at you in silence, and you realise that he is only waiting for your word.

“Please,” you whisper.

“Please what, Princess?”

“Touch me.”

“Where?”

You take his hand in yours and lower his palm to your neck. Then, without breaking eye contact, you guide his hand lower, between your breasts, down your soft belly to your oozing pussy.

When his fingers touch you, you moan. Desperately, loudly. You can feel him shaking with excitement, his fingers twitching, making you feel like you're getting weak electric shocks. You don't know what you want: for him to take you right away, or for him to tease you, making you hotter and hotter until you lose your mind completely. You want it all at once and at the same time. You want sweet and tender love, hot passion, hard dominance. You want him to whisper tenderness in your ear, covering your face with light kisses while his fingers mercilessly stretch you. You want your lips entwined in a sweet unhurried kiss as he squeezes your nipples until they ache. You want him to thrust into your body with fierce thrusts, squeezing your throat, continuing to look at you with eyes full of love and adoration and telling you how beautiful you are, how perfect you are for him, how you drive him crazy.

You're sure he'd want to torture you some more. He'd like to force you to say in words where you want him. But he doesn't have the stomach for it. He's barely holding back himself. You can feel his erection with your thigh. He's so hard, so hot… And it's all because of you.

Softly and gently, König opens your wet folds with his finger, sliding it inside without much resistance. You push yourself against his hand as far as you can. You need more. One finger is not enough.

“More, König, more, please,” you whisper, and he only moans back, squeezing his eyes shut. You drive him as crazy as he drives you. He takes your lips in a passionate, greedy kiss, as if he's trying to swallow you whole. His tongue attacks the tender depths of your mouth, exploring every nook, every corner. A second finger slips inside your body. Bliss overwhelms you. Finally. This is exactly what you've been missing. Just what you've been craving. His lips travel down your jaw to your neck, and you moan sweetly, your whole body shuddering. It's your most vulnerable spot. You clench around his fingers, wrenching another moan from his throat. You feel like you're about to pass out.

The movement of his fingers is too slow for you, you can't take it anymore, you want him. You want to cum, you want to stain his fingers, his hand, the sheets. You thrust yourself on his fingers, fuck his hand like an animal, like a madwoman whose entire being has been reduced to a horny, carnal pleasure-obsessed bitch. He doesn't disturb you, only pulls back to stare into your face with amorous eyes as you use him for your own satisfaction.

“Du bist wunderschön, Prinzessin. So schön. So perfekt,” He switches to German, and you speed up, trying to rub your clit against his palm, bringing your climax closer.

You feel so good, you feel wonderful, amazing, so fucking good. Just a little bit more, just a little bit more, you're very close, very soon you'll….

“Look at me when you cum,” König doesn't ask, he commands, and you can't help but obey.

The orgasm hits you in a crushing wave. It's an inhuman effort to keep your eyes open, to try to look him in the eye, even though you want so badly to shut your eyes and surrender to the sensations. But he's been so kind, letting you fuck his fingers, you don't break from looking into his eyes, cumming.

“That's it, princess, what a good girl you are.”

His voice pours sweet honey into your flaming ears. Slowly he continues to move his fingers, milking the last spasms of pleasure out of you, not letting you relax completely. You're sweating, your t-shirt clinging unpleasantly to your body, and you tug at the bottom edge, trying to pull it off, but there's no strength left in your arms, they rest weakly on your stomach, heaving with your frequent breathing.

König finally takes his fingers out, stroking your hyper-sensitive clit one last time. He grins, watching you flinch at the sharpness of the sensation, on the verge of pain. He brings his fingers up to his own mouth and licks them as if he's holding the sweetest dessert in front of him, as if ambrosia itself is coating his skin, not your juices. You watch mesmerized as his tongue slides between your fingers, gathering the last drops of your moisture, and you can't help but imagine how good it would be if he had his mouth on the source of that moisture. How his hot tongue would slide between your folds, penetrating the full length in you.

You felt some movement around your hip, lazily lowered your gaze, and saw him clenching his own cock in his fist. The head was so red, so wet. You wanted to lick it, to feel its smoothness on your tongue. To lick it like a kitten, ineptly but enthusiastically, and that at some point he wouldn't stand for it, would clasp your head in his palms and….

“How are you, Princess? Do you want more?”

“What?” you asked, still wandering in your dream world, where your throat was being brazenly used as a cock sleeve.

König laughed quietly, his voice now particularly velvety, satisfied, happy.

“Would you like more?”

“Yes, please.”

Usually one time was enough for you. After your first orgasm, you were so sensitive that any touch to your clit was more painful than pleasurable. But it couldn't end like this. One orgasm wasn't enough to make up for two weeks of abstinence.

König smiles affectionately at you, kisses your shoulder briefly, and gets out of bed. You reach for him with your hands and he takes your palms in his, kisses your fingers and says:

“I'm going to get something and be right back. Take a breath. It's going to be a long night.”

His words hold the promise of unearthly bliss. You let your arms fall loosely on the bed and you watch him going out of the bedroom. And you even manage to think: it's a pity he pulled his pants back up, it would have been better if he'd taken them off altogether.

He comes back a minute later, and in his hands… Gods, you recognise it. It's your toy. The dragon themed one. Along with the toy, König carries a bottle of lube. You rise up on your elbows, your cheeks flaming. You don't notice you're licking your lips in anticipation. But he does.

He settles on the bed, half lying down. The toy rises up proudly, the base resting on the bottom of his belly, just above his own cock. Taking his time, König opens the bottle of lube with one hand and pours the thick, clear liquid over the dildo.

“You're certainly very wet, Princess, but I can't risk hurting you. Come on, kitten, sit down."

You flap your eyes in confusion. He wants you to sit on top? You? Suddenly insecurities overtake you, and you open your mouth to object as a whip-like order ripples through the room:

“Sit down. Now.”

A shiver runs through your body. You'd like to believe it's fear. You should be afraid when the huge man who kidnapped you and locked you in his own home gives you orders in a stern voice. You should be afraid! You should be scared! But you feel anything but fear.

You sit up awkwardly on the bed and crawl over to König on your knees. Leaning on his shoulders, you throw your leg over his huge, muscular body. You feel the muscles in your thighs stretch, you barely reach your knees to the mattress. His free hand rests on your thigh, and you turn around, figuring out how you're going to sit on the toy. König comes to your rescue, placing the silicone head against your wet hole. You look at him as if asking for permission. And he nods graciously.

You pull back, feeling the cool silicone stretching your hot walls. The toy is so big, it doesn't want to go all the way in. You thrust forward and back again. And again. And again. Each time the dildo goes in deeper, stretching you more and more. Between your legs you're slick with your juices and lube. The wet slurping sounds make your ears burn with embarrassment, but you can't stop the eager thrusts of your own hips. Your movements become more furious, impatient, aggressive.

You feel a slight pain from the extreme stretch, but it doesn't stop you, it only adds to the pleasure. You rest your palms on König's chest, pushing back against his steel muscles, giving your body inertia to thrust deeper. Oh, how you wished he would help you. Take control. Fuck you fiercely, mercilessly. With a toy, with his fingers, with his own cock, it didn't matter. You wanted to forget yourself completely in pleasure.

His hand slid from your thigh forward, lower, to your pussy. His thumb quickly covered your clit, pressing into it hard, on the verge of pain. You jerked against it, hungry for his caress. Yes, push harder, stroke it in small circular motions, touch it, squeeze it between your fingers, more, harder, harder!

You moaned, practically growled, the intensity of the sensation completely robbing you of your mind. You just thrust deeper, deeper, deeper onto the toy until its widest part is completely hidden inside you, and you rest against the wide base. The uneven knobby surface caresses every sensitive spot inside you, all at the same time. König rubs his fingers over your clit, and you grasp your own breasts, twisting your nipples. You're in pain. You feel good. It's excruciating. You're mind-blowed. You throw your head back and practically fall over as several waves of ecstasy come over you one after another. You see nothing, hear nothing, you are in another universe, a parallel reality where nothing exists but endless orgasm.

When you came back to reality, your head was resting on König's shoulder. With one hand he cradles you while the other makes furious, rapid movements. He presses his lips to your forehead and you feel that he is very, very close. On a sudden impulse, you bite him. Hard, but not bloody. And it's enough to send him over the edge. You feel hot spurts of his cum land on your arse and back, still hidden under your t-shirt. You clench and squirm at the sudden pain: the toy is still inside you, and now gives you more discomfort than pleasure. But you don't have the strength to pull it out.

You wait patiently for König to come to his senses after his own orgasm. He covers your face with kisses, whispering sweet nothings to you in German. And you don't hold back your smile. You look into each other's eyes, so satisfied, so happy.

“Please take it out,” you ask quietly.

Slowly he pulls the toy out of you, and you can barely contain yourself from moaning. With an obscene squelching sound, the dildo comes out of you and flops somewhere on the bed. You feel an emptiness that brings you little joy. You wish you could go to sleep filled. Not with a lifeless silicone toy. But his hot cock.

“Why a toy?” you asked, tugging at the collar of his T-shirt.

“М?”

“Why didn't you just… you know… yourself?”

You were suddenly shy. Even though just a few minutes ago you were shamelessly riding him, clutching your own nipples.

“I did what you asked, Princess. If you want my cock, you'll have to use your pretty mouth and ask me for it.”

He grinned and ran his finger over your bottom lip, enjoying the reaction his words elicited in you.

You hid your face against his chest and sighed sweetly. You didn't want to move or get up at all, but you were sticky and sweaty. You had to wash yourself before you went to bed.

“Will you take care of me?”

“Always. But be specific.”

“I don't want to go to the shower.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But I need a shower.”

“Do you want me to carry you to the bathroom and give you a bath?”

“Can you?”

“It's not my birthday, so why are you showering me with presents?”

And he did take you in his arms, carried you into the bathroom and bathed you. You stood in the shower with your back against the cool wall, holding onto his shoulders while König, crouched on one knee, soaped your whole body. He was so close, his face just centimeters away from you. You could even feel his hot breath on your skin. You could just toss your leg over his shoulder, grab his hair, and press his face against your crotch. And he'd just smirk back, getting to work. You could have. If you had a little strength in your limbs. You would have done it.

He wrapped you in a huge fluffy towel, scooped you up, and brought you to the living room couch. He kissed you on the nose and said:

“Sit here for a while, I'll tidy up, change the sheets, and we can go back to bed.”

Sleepily you watched him scurry between the bedroom and the bathroom. You closed your eyes, and when you opened them, you were already in bed, completely naked, pressed against König's hot side. He was dressed. You pouted and slid your hand under his T-shirt. Placing your hand on his chest, right over his heart, you finally relaxed and fell asleep.

Next part | Masterlist

When you woke up the next morning, the box in the corner of the room was gone. All your books were spread out on the shelf, and yes, it really was big enough to hold them all. You didn't know what else was in the box, but whatever it was, it was spread out somewhere. Maybe in the bedside tables. Maybe in the drawers. The colourful covers looked like a misplaced stain in the grey, sterile surroundings. You shivered. The chain on your ankle jingled softly, reminding you that you were captured. 

König was nowhere to be seen, the flat was quiet. There was no clock in the bedroom, so you didn't know what time it was. But you thought it unlikely that he had left you for the day without at least letting you go to the bathroom in the morning. He wouldn't do that to you. Although... What if this is your punishment? To make you endure the whole day? And if you don't? And then the next punishment for wetting the bed?

You drifted further and further into this maelstrom of thoughts, until the soft click of the front door interrupted you. He's back. Probably from a run. Or a workout. So it's still early in the morning. 

The bathroom door slammed, the water running. You counted the seconds, wondering how long it would take him to shower. A body that big couldn't be washed that quickly. He always smelled good, you'd never smelled him stink before. And the apartment was so clean, sickeningly clean. And his car was clean too. He didn't like to leave a trace, you guessed it. Like some kind of maniac. 

He looked in the bedroom to see if you were asleep. And you wanted to pretend to be asleep at first, but you didn't do it. Your eyes met and he smiled warmly at you. Something inside you tightened. You didn't understand him. 

"Good morning, Princess. Did you sleep well?" He asked, coming closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his huge hand through your hair. 

"I'd sleep better without the chains," you murmured. You hid your face under the edge of the covers. He grinned back. 

"I'll take them off as soon as I'm sure you've learnt your lesson. I don't like it myself. Be a good girl and by Friday you'll be free to flutter about the house again."

"By Friday? What, I'm supposed to stay in bed with a chain for four days? What if I need to pee?!"

You couldn't believe he was going to keep you chained up for days. 

"Yes, darling, by Friday." He stroked your head again. "Now I'm going to take you to the bathroom, you do your business and come back to bed. I'll leave you some water and fruit if you get hungry. And at lunchtime I'll come and feed you and take you back to the bathroom. For emergencies, I'll leave a bucket under your bed.

"A bucket? So if I have to pee in an hour, I'll be sniffing for three hours?" 

"Yes, that's why you'd better hold out." You looked at him like he was crazy, which he probably was. He couldn't be serious. But he went on, ignoring your look: "I'll leave you something for your amusement, and you can tell me which books to move closer to you. The chain won't reach the shelf. And tonight I'll bring you a television for the bedroom. So you won't be so sad."

"You can let me go home so I won't be so sad," you said defiantly, turning your back to him. He just sighed heavily and stroked your shoulder. 

"I can't do that, unfortunately. But you know that already. It's all right, Princess, you'll learn to be happy, I understand. You've been trained wrong all your life, moulded into something you're not, broken to fit standards. But it's okay. I found you before they destroyed you completely. Don't worry. Soon you'll be free to be yourself. I'll take care of it.

He patted you on the back and walked out of the bedroom. The dishes clattered in the kitchen. He started to make breakfast. You laid still, staring in front of you. His words made you shiver. His voice, so soft and gentle, echoed in your head, contrasting with the cruelty and madness of his words. He's lost his mind... He's definitely mad. 

He'd bring you breakfast in bed, making sure you'd eat every last crumb, even though you feared you wouldn't be able to. Then, after putting the dishes away, he took the bracelet off your ankle and led you by the hand to the bathroom. You noticed that he'd taken the lock off the door. You quickly did your business, trying not to look at your reflection in the mirror. You were afraid you would burst into tears. When you had finished, you went out into the corridor. König was waiting for you outside, leaning against the opposite wall. He kept his eyes on you. He took your hand and led you back into the bedroom. He chained you to the bed again. There was a bottle of water and a bowl of fruit on the bedside table. 

"Choose some books," he said as he walked over to the shelf. 

You weren't in the mood to read, but you realised you weren't leaving this room for the next four hours, and you needed something to occupy your mind. Otherwise your anxious thoughts would eat you alive. You named four random books, not having the slightest desire to open them. 

König took them from the shelf and placed them in a neat stack beside you on the bed. Then he opened the middle drawer and took out the diamond mosaic set you had ordered long ago out of boredom. 

"It's for when you need something to keep your hands busy," he explained. You shrugged indifferently. 

He walked around the bed and crouched down in front of you, placing his palms on your lap and looking into your eyes.

"I understand that you are uncomfortable, Princess. This is only a temporary measure. I'll be back at lunchtime, in just over four hours. Okay?"

"Okay." 

"Don't sulk, doll." He touched your knee with his lips. You winced at the unexpectedly intimate touch. 

And he left. And he did left the bucket under the bed. 

As soon as the front door slammed shut, you fell face down into the pillows and cried. You felt so sorry for yourself. A madman had stolen your life. And he thought he was doing you a favour! Putting you on a chain "for your own good", like a misbehaving dog!

You lay there wondering how your absence would be perceived at work. You just didn't show up without telling anyone. You grinned bitterly. He'd probably sent a few messages from your phone. To work and relatives. So they wouldn't come looking for you. No missing persons report. Nobody would have thought on him. You only talked about business at work. No one saw him drive you home that rainy night. And certainly no one knew that you went to his house on Friday. Even if it was CCTV showing you getting into his car willingly. You must have even smiled. You were sure that König had made sure that no one would think of looking for you. 

You were lost in dark thoughts and time. The front door clicked and you thought he'd come back because he'd forgotten something. But no. It was lunch time already. As promised, he fed you and took you to the bathroom. You ate without tasting and went to the toilet without feeling the need. Mechanically. Because you had to. König was very patient with you and didn't rush you. But he didn't forget to chain you to the bed again. When he left, he kissed you on the forehead and said:

"Try to read. Don't sit in your own head. It's deceiving you."

You thought, wearily, that he was the one deceiving you. But you listened. You had nothing to lose anyway, so why not obey? What if he punished you for disobedience in a worse way? More humiliating? You turned the pages mindlessly, your eyes wandering over the lines of printed text. But mentally you were far away. 

In the evening König came home with a brand new TV set. He quickly mounted it on the bedroom wall and had it set up in minutes. He didn't ask what streaming services you watched, what YouTube channels you subscribed to. He already knew all that, of course. New accounts, but with all the subscriptions you could possibly be interested in. All the shows you liked were conveniently organised into collections. All you had to do was choose what you wanted to watch. All for your convenience. Everything for you. 

You ate dinner together in the bedroom. In silence. He tidied up and took you to the bathroom, handing you another clean T-shirt. You obediently showered, changed, did all your things. After chaining you to the bed, he went into the shower. You didn't deny yourself the luxury of turning on your favourite show. Would it really make you feel better? 

He lay down next to you and pulled you onto his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head. He didn't say anything and didn't stop you from watching. And you stayed like that until ten at night. At ten he took the remote from your hand and turned the TV off.

"Time for bed, princess. It's important to keep a routine, and a good night's sleep is good for your emotional wellbeing. Go to sleep."

You didn't argue or resent him. You just laid down on the pillows with your back to him. Two seconds later he was snuggling up behind you with his arms around you. He always held you in his sleep. You thought that you wouldn't be able to sleep for a long time, because you weren't tired at all. But you passed out almost instantly.

Wednesday was no different from Tuesday. Except instead of diamond mosaics, you were given colouring books with coloured pencils. You ignored them and watched TV all day. 

Thursday - a ball of yarn with a hook replaces the colouring books. Another one of your failed attempts at a new hobby. To your own surprise, you actually took it up. You remembered the basics, how to make chains and crochets. But you didn't know how to crochet without a pattern, so you quickly lost interest. 

On Friday, the last day of your strict bed rest, he gave you an embroidery kit. A cross-stitch kit that you bought a year and a half ago, started and never finished. You were surprised that he gave it to you at all. There was a needle and small scissors. Sharp objects. But apparently you were so well-behaved that he started to trust you. You enjoyed it so much that you even managed to embroider a decent piece in one day. When König came back in the evening to look after you, he found you with your embroidery in hands, looking at the TV. A comedy was on and you were smiling. The picture in front of him was almost perfect. Except for the chain that ran from the head of the bed to your ankle under the blanket. You looked up at him, noticed his presence, and your slight smile didn't even fade. You just went back to your business. You felt surprisingly relaxed. You were beginning to get used to it. 

He admired you silently for a few minutes, smiling contentedly, and then left the apartment. When he came back, he was carrying a bag in which something was jingling merrily. 

"Need to use the bathroom, baby?" He asked, peering into the bedroom. 

"Not yet, no."

"Good. Then I'll get on with dinner in the meantime."

You shrugged, keeping your eyes on your work. The show was funny, and counting stitches kept your mind from drifting off to the dark, doomed plains. 

After a while, König came into the bedroom and silently removed the bracelet from your leg. You put your handiwork aside and started to get up to go to the bathroom, but froze when you saw him unhooking the chain from the headboard and placing it in the bottom drawer of the dresser. You breathed a sigh of relief and almost cried. It was over. It was finally over.

You sat with your eyes closed, trying to hold back tears of relief. He walked over to you and hugged you, holding your head against his belly. 

"It's over, Princess. You did so well. 

You've been such a good girl and proved that I can trust you. It's over," he whispered, stroking your head. Your shoulders trembled. "You can cry. It's okay."

And you cried. But he only stroked your head and back gently, running his thumbs over your wet cheeks, catching your tears, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. When you calmed down, he took you to the bathroom and helped you wash your face. Then he left you alone to do your business. 

When you came out, he was waiting for you at the table. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you looked around at the various treats on the table. The table setting was also special: big, beautiful plates, wineglasses instead of the usual plain ones, an ice bucket on the edge of the table with chilled champagne.

"What's the occasion today?" You asked in surprise, moving closer to your seat. You stood next to the chair, and König jumped up to pull it back for you. You didn't even think about why you hadn't sat down yourself. It seemed right and natural to wait for him. 

"Today is the end of your punishment, which you handled brilliantly. 

I'm very proud of you. Reason enough to celebrate, don't you think?" After making sure you were comfortable, he sat down near you and uncorked a bottle. As he poured the sparkling drink into your glass, he smiled contentedly. He was radiant with joy. He moved the glass closer to you and gestured for you to try it. You took a sip. Not bad. Your lips curled into a smile. 

Dinner went... well? The good food, the buzz of the champagne, the realisation that you weren't going to be chained up any more all cheered you up. And for the first time since your imprisonment, you talked over a meal. He joked, you laughed. You were comfortable. And good. 

When you finished, he started to clean up, and you tried to help, but he took the dirty plates from your hands and said in a tone that brooked no objection, suddenly serious:

"I'll do it myself, Princess. Sit on the couch for a while."

"I just wanted to help," you mumbled, confused. You thought he'd be glad of your help. 

"You are not here to wash dishes. Go on. I'll be done soon and come back to you." He kissed you on the forehead and went to clean up. You went to the sofa, a little embarrassed but obedient, and sat down with your hands in your lap. You felt a strange, unpleasant sensation, like shame. As if it had been so stupid to offer him your help. As if you'd done something wrong. You were afraid of making a mistake again, so you didn't turn on the TV. He told you to sit down, not to watch something. You just waited like a good girl. It pays to be a good girl. Good girls don't get chained up and fed treats.

When he was finished, König came over to you with a cup of grapes in his hands, put it on the coffee table, sat down next to you and pulled you onto his lap. Your back was pressed against his broad chest. Your feet didn't touch the floor. He put one arm around your waist and with the other he took his phone out of pocket, did something with it and held it out in front of you. You stared stupidly at the screen. Some online shop with all sorts of clattering. You didn't dare touch the screen and looked at him questioningly. 

"You said you felt uncomfortable here. You see, I prepared this apartment especially for you, deliberately leaving it so empty that you could decorate it to your liking". 

König reached for a grape, plucked a large berry off a twig, and pressed it to your lips, looking you in the eye. 

"Half."

You obediently bit off half of the berry, touching your lips to his fingers. He popped the other half into his mouth, not breaking eye contact until he swallowed. Smiling contentedly and stroking your cheek, he turned back to the phone. 

"It's time for you to start setting up your nest. You can choose... well, let's say... five items to start with. It could be anything. From curtains to soap dispenser."

You blinked a few times, staring at the screen, trying to digest what you'd just heard. Mindlessly, you picked up his phone and started scrolling through the categories on the site. Textiles, housewares, storage. Things you used to look at with interest, in your former free life. König took his time with you, pulling you close with both hands and pressing his lips to your shoulder. 

Looking around the room, you thought it would be nice to put some pretty curtains on the windows and maybe some colourful cushions on the sofa. You could also decorate the walls, but König probably wouldn't want to hang up any store-bought pictures. You continued to scroll through the catalogue, completely absorbed in the process. You felt comfortable and warm. You felt... happy?

***

Saturday morning was no different from Friday morning. You woke up alone in bed again, waited for König to take you to the bathroom. This time the door was left ajar, but you didn't pay much attention. You were more surprised (and even uncomfortably prickled) that he wasn't waiting for you at the bathroom door in the hallway. He was in the middle of making breakfast, you knew by the sound of it. But part of you expected him to greet you first and then take you to the kitchen. 

You sat down at the table, as you had done for seven days straight, and waited, watching König. You couldn't help but notice that he was amazingly built. You couldn't tell at work because he wore baggy clothes and was slouching, but at home he walked around with perfect posture and wore very tight T-shirts. Maybe he was comfortable that way, or maybe, you thought, he was just showing off for you.

"What's for breakfast today?" you asked nonchalantly.

“An omelette and avocado toast,” König replied, still with his back to you.

"I see."

"Almost ready, Princess. Are you hungry?" he asked with concern in his voice.

"Mm-hmm."

"Just a few more minutes."

You ate in silence, but the silence was pleasant. You ate with appetite, and for the first time you could appreciate his cooking skills. You wouldn't have thought he could cook before. It was easier to imagine him eating nothing but beer and crisps. But now, of course, you could see that a man who took his body so seriously wouldn't eat rubbish food. His dishes was tasty and nutritious. And you wanted to thank him for the food. 

When you had finished, König started to clean up, and you jumped up from your seat to help him. He caught your hands and looked seriously into your eyes, speaking softly with a warning in his voice:

"Princess."

"I'm just trying to help," you fluttered your eyelashes, not understanding why it was so important to him that you didn't clean up. 

"I told you, you're not here to clean."

"But I want to thank you somehow for the food!" you cried desperately! How could he not see that it was embarrassing for you to accept his care without giving anything in return! 

His eyes softened, as if he had finally heard and understood you. He let go of your hands, ran his fingers down your cheek and smiled softly. 

"Sit down on the sofa. When I'm finished, I'll show you how to thank me, Princess."

You could feel yourself blushing, but you just nodded silently and walked obediently to the sofa. After a few minutes, König finished tidying up and joined you, sitting down next to you and spreading his legs wide. He put an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to his side. You looked at him expectantly.

"Now, Princess. I'd better show you."

He reached for the TV remote, turned it on and pressed a few buttons. 

A long, female moan echoed through the room. You turned sharply towards the screen and blood immediately rushed from your face. 

The bed was in disarray and a woman was lying on it, legs spread wide, a pillow under her arse. She was clutching a magic wand in one hand while trying to insert a large, strangely dragon-themed dildo into herself with the other. It didn't work, the toy wouldn't go all the way in, but the woman didn't seem to mind. She moaned pitifully as the toy buzzed and brought her to climax. It was you.

Startled, you turned to look at König, but his eyes were fixed on the screen. Your eyes slid down his body and you saw him touching himself through the fabric of his trousers. He was hard, but not fully yet, and the mere silhouette under his clothes was enough to make you swallow noisily at the mere hint of his size. He was a giant all over. 

"That's it, Princess, just relax like a good girl. I promised I wouldn't touch you, and I'm going to keep that promise. But I didn't promise not to touch myself," he murmured, still not looking away from the screen and continuing to stroke his length. 

You turned away. The noise from the TV made your ears redden. König was jerking off, sitting next to you, pulling you against him as if it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"Oh, I almost forgot..." he murmured and you saw him reach into his pocket, lift his hips slightly and good God, you couldn't take your eyes off his cock pulling at the fabric. You knew you should turn away in disgust. But you didn't. And you didn't immediately notice what he was pulling out of his pocket. Some sort of lump of cloth. It had a heavy, musky odour. "That's better. Do you recognise it?" he asked, waving the cloth in your face. You recoiled from the strong smell and realised what he was holding. Your panties. The ones you'd shamefacedly hidden in a your bag long ago, in your past free life, to wash later when you got home. 

Without shame, König pulled down his pants, exposing his heavy, huge cock. Without ceremony, he clenched it in his fist, along with your underwear, and started to stroke himself leisurely. You turned away shyly, squeezing your eyes shut. But the image was burned into your cornea forever. 

"That's it, Princess, you can close your eyes, don't look. Just stay close," he whispered in your ear, moaning softly. His voice, dripping with pleasure, sent shivers down your spine. You shivered and felt your cheeks burn with fire. And more. 

You clenched your thighs, hoping to quench the fire between them. The last thing you should be feeling right now was desire. "Think of the situation you're in!" You told yourself. "Your kidnapper broke into your home, installed hidden cameras, and now he's showing you the footage of you masturbating while he sits next to you, jerking off with the panties he stole from you a week ago!  Excitement is the furthest thing from a normal reaction at such a moment!"

But whatever reasonable arguments you tried to use to calm yourself, they were nothing compared to the sound of your own moaning mixed with his hoarse, heavy breathing right into your ear. You could hear the pace of his movements increasing and the sounds getting wetter. You didn't want to watch, didn't want to know what he looked like as he approache orgasm, didn't want to see his face contort with pleasure, didn't want to hear his soft moans and growls. And you certainly didn't want to imagine what he would do to your body when he made those sounds. 

No, no, no, no, no! Don't think about it, don't think about it!

"Oh, Princess, you're so sweet. Do you know how many times I've done this? I spent most of your first night here with your panties on my face. Your scent drives me crazy. I want to bury my face between your legs so badly, you can't even imagine. You're so... So... Mm-mm. Just imagining what you taste like, not a faint imprint of you on the fabric... And, oh... Mmmm... And... I'm coming... I'm coming!"

A loud moan came from his chest, you could feel him shuddering with pleasure, breathing hard as he came, and slowly all his muscles relaxed and he pressed his lips to your temple, scorching your skin with his hot breath. After a few minutes he finally turned off the TV and there was silence in the room. 

"Thank you, Princess." He kisses your shoulder and you slowly opened your eyes, hoping he'd already cleaned up. He had. There was a post-orgasmic bliss on his face, his lips parted in a satisfied, lazy smile. He pulled you close and hugged you tightly, occasionally touching his lips to your forehead or temple. Finally he let you go, smiled embarrassed and disappeared into the bathroom. You sat stunned on the sofa, a wet stain slowly spreading on the fabric.

Next part | Masterlist

You were so shocked that this huge guy who had been so nice to you, so attentive and helpful, was actually a stalker obsessed with you that you couldn't stop crying. He hugged you and stroked your hair and comforted you. He said everything would be fine, that you would get used to it, that you would thank fate for bringing you together.

He held you, pressing your head against his shoulder, whispering all sorts of tenderness, kissing you on the top of your head, on your forehead, on your temple, wherever he could reach. But you knew you couldn't get out of his grip. He wouldn't let you go. And that hit your nerves hard. You couldn't calm down. You felt so stupid, so betrayed. Of course you did! It can't just be a nice, friendly guy. Only a sick bastard like that would be interested in you! And now your life is in his hands. Literally and figuratively. 

You cried yourself to tears trying to claw your way out of the steel ring of his hands, but in vain. The moment you stepped inside his apartment, it was over for you. You had entered your own cage, and no one could save you.  

“Princess, it pains me to see you like this,” he said worriedly, looking at your crying face. And you were both angry and horrified at the same time. You're the one in pain! It's your life that's ruined!

He sat you down on the sofa and went into his room. You curled up and sobbed. When he came back into the room, König got a glass of water and came over to you. You sat down and cautiously looked at his outstretched hands. In one was a glass of water. In the other, two white pills. You didn't move and looked at him questioningly and incredulously. 

“This will help you to calm down. I promise it won't hurt you. It'll just make things... easier.”

You realised you had no choice. He would get what he wanted, any way he could. Either you would take the pills yourself, hoping they wouldn't stop your heart, or he would force them down your throat. You grabbed the pills, popped them into your mouth, snatched the glass of water out of his hands and downed it in one gulp. His lips curled into an approving smile. 

“That's the clever one. Come on, let's get you to bed.”

König held out his hand and you took it, doomed. Your palm was so small compared to his. He squeezed your fingers firmly but reverently. It didn't hurt, but you knew you couldn't get out of his grip.

In the bedroom, he laid you on the bed, covered you with a blanket and laid down behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing you into his big, strong, hot body. And whether it was the hug or the pills, you passed out quickly. And slept into the next morning.

You woke up lethargic, weak and with a headache. You were alone in bed, the bedroom door was open and there was a noise coming from the kitchen. Then you smelled something delicious. Toasted bread, cinnamon, something fruity or berry on top, vanilla. Something sweet and certainly very tasty. Your emotions were dulled by hunger and weakness. Your head was empty. Everything seemed unreal and therefore not disturbing.

You crawled out from under the covers. Surprised, you noticed that you were only wearing a huge T-shirt, obviously not yours, that barely covered your arse. And no sign of underwear. In your cotton candy brain, it registered simply as a fact. A fact that caused neither emotion nor suspicion. Shuffling your feet, you walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen-living room. König was standing with his back to you, working on something at the stove. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt, and for the first time you could appreciate his figure. Broad shoulders, chiseled muscles bulging under the skin and a thin layer of fat. You sniffed the sweet scent and waddled forward. He heard your footsteps, his body tensed and he turned to look at you with a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Princess, you shouldn't be getting up.”

He jumped to you and, supporting you under your elbows, sat you down at the table. You wondered how he did it: he was so big and strong, but when he touched you, all you felt was tenderness. A glass of orange juice appeared on the table in front of you.

“Have a drink, baby. It'll help you 'switch on'.”

You stared at his face as if you didn't understand what he wanted from you. Not immediately, but you took the glass and raised it to your lips with a weak, shaking hand. König immediately gave you a helping hand, gently supporting the glass from underneath with a few fingers, pushing it higher as you drank. The empty glass went straight to the sink.

“Sit for a few more minutes, sunshine. Breakfast is almost ready.” He went back to cooking. “Since this is our first day together, I made something special for you. Soft waffles with raspberry jam and vanilla ice cream. Sounds good, right?”

You just nodded lethargically and stared blankly at the table in front of you. Your head was just beginning to clear, thoughts reluctantly filling your skull.

You blinked and there was a plate of waffles in front of you. It was so beautiful that you wanted to take a picture of it.

“Eat, Princess.” He pushed the fork towards you and you tried to grab it, but it slipped out of your hand. Your fingers wouldn't listen and you whimpered helplessly. With tear-filled eyes you looked at König with a pleading look in your eyes, and something in the expression on his face made you a little wary and frightened. He was breathing heavily, a half-crazed smile frozen on his lips, his eyes gleaming unhealthily. It was as if he was enjoying your helplessness. Your weakness. And the fact that you couldn't eat or drink without his help. He pulled another chair closer to yours and sat down. The fork he held between his large, strong fingers looked tiny, almost child like. He scooped a piece of waffle onto the fork, dipped it in jam and ice cream and brought it to your lips. You opened your mouth obediently, never taking your eyes off his. Your tongue tingled with sweetness and you chewed slowly, savouring the taste. The waffles were truly amazing. The contrast between the warm pastry and the cold ice cream awakened the receptors in your mouth, stimulating you and helping you to wake up.

König fed you until your plate was empty. He wiped the corners of your mouth with a napkin, smiled at you affectionately, as if proud of you, and went to wash the dishes. You sat at the table and watched him. Your body was still weak, but you were thinking more clearly, though your emotions were still dulled. You wanted to ask where your clothes were, where your things were, why he had undressed you while you slept. You wanted to ask what exactly he had given you and why you felt so strange. You wanted to ask what he was going to do to you. But part of you didn't want to know the answers to these questions.

When he finished with the dishes, he wiped his hands with a towel and, after making sure the kitchen was spotless, came back to you. He helped you to your feet and led you to the sofa. He sat down himself, spreading his legs wide, and sat you down next to him, putting his arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side. Your head was still a little dizzy and you froze, offering no resistance. You sat in silence for a few minutes. He stroked your back and his touch was so gentle, so caressing. You might have squealed with delight if you'd forgotten for a second that he was stalking you and kidnapped you. No. You can't. You can't forget for a second who you're looking at. A creepy pervert, a stalker and a kidnapper. And you're not at home, you're not safe. You're in a cage with a lion. And any sudden movement is going to make him pounce on you.

The dark thoughts made your eyes fill with tears again, and you tensed up, trying not to cry. König noticed. He seemed to notice everything.

“Princess, what's wrong?” He asked worriedly, lifting your face to look into your eyes. “Is there any pain?”

“I'm scared,” you whispered. A tear rolled down your cheek, and König caught it with his fingertips.

“What are you scared of, baby? You're with me, you're safe.”

“You. I'm scared of you.” Fear tightened in your throat, but the words came out. You knew it wasn't wise to admit your fear. You didn't know how he would react. What if he got angry? Maybe he'd get so angry that he'd show you that your fears were justified. What if he chained you to a radiator and kicked you to death?

To your surprise, he just laughed softly. Smiling, he looked into your eyes and stroked your cheeks with his fingertips. Again, so gentle and loving. You were so confused by his caress. 

“Princess, what are you scared of? Have I ever wronged you? Have I ever been rude to you? Have I ever hurt you? Have I ever insulted you? Answer me honestly.”

“N-No,” you had to admit uncertainly.

“Silly.” He kissed your forehead and held you close. “I only want the best for you. A sweet, carefree life full of happiness. I won't chain you to a radiator if that's what you're afraid of.” He grinned and kissed you again. “And I don't want to hurt you.” His tone became more serious. “And I certainly won't touch you unless you ask me to.”

The last sentence oozed with unspoken promise, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. 

“What if I never ask?”

Smiling smugly, he ran a wide palm down your back, stopping at your waist.  

“You will, darling. You will.” 

***

The weekend passed as quietly as possible. You spent most of the day on the sofa. He would put your head on his chest, turn on the TV and watch something while stroking your back. You were still in an emotional stupor, not really paying attention to what was going on around you, concentrating only on the beating of his heart under your ear. 

He fed you lunch and dinner, washed the dishes and tidied up afterwards. He didn't make you do anything. You just sat next to him or lay by his side. Except for a few hours after dinner, when he'd put on a film for you and lock himself in his room. When he sent you to the shower, he'd give you a clean T-shirt, just as big and barely covering your bum, but you still weren't allowed to wear underwear. König would go to bed with you, but with a separate blanket. And yes, he held you all night, he wasn't lying when he said he hugged everything he could reach in his sleep. 

Monday morning he got up very early and went to the gym before work. While he was getting ready, you pretended to be asleep, but as soon as the lock on the front door clicked, you jumped up. You looked at the bedroom windows, but none of them seemed to open. 

You ran into the living room, but there was a same unpleasant surprise. Not a single window in the entire flat was able to open. In desperation, you rushed to the front door. There was no sign of a keyhole or lock. On the smooth grey surface, the metal doorknob seemed to sneer at you. You went back into the living room and stood at the window, looking out at the street. Below you, twelve floors of empty space. No balcony, no fire escape, no buildings nearby, no way out. 

The door clicked open. König was back. You didn't notice how much time had passed. Without turning around, you kept looking out. You heard the bathroom door slam and the sound of water. A few minutes later, the door creaked again. You remained motionless at the window. 

He came up behind you and put his huge hand on your shoulder. 

“Sit down at the table, Princess, we are going to have breakfast.”

You obeyed. You ate your breakfast in peace. He cleaned up, wiped his hands and walked over to you. He crouched down beside your chair and called your name. You looked at him. His look was serious. 

“I'm going to work now. You'll be alone here all day. There are two containers of food in the fridge. I want you to eat the blue one at lunchtime. And at five, I want you to eat the green one. I'll be back closer to seven.” You raised an eyebrow in surprise: the working day at the office lasted until five in the evening. “After work I'll come to your place and pick up some things you might need. Is there anything in particular you want me to get? “

You clenched your hands into fists. He's talking so calmly, like it's normal to barge into your home and go through your things. You bit your lip to keep from telling him what you were thinking.

“A few pairs of underwear, please,” you said defiantly. You hoped it would hurt him, but it didn't. He just smiled. 

“I'm afraid you won't be needing them here, Princess.”

“Why ask if you're not going to listen?”

“Oh, I'm listening, baby.” He patted your knee and stood up. “Anything else?”

“No.” 

He kissed you on the head and went to his room to change. He didn't leave his clothes in the bedroom. 

At the door he called you again and said:

“Behave yourself, Princess.”

And he left. 

Left alone, you began to scurry around the flat, looking for anything that might help you escape. The windows didn't open, there was no lock on the door, the kitchen cupboards were practically empty, and anything sharp was in a locked drawer. There were no wires sticking out anywhere and you couldn't see any sockets. Everything had been thought through to the last detail. There was only one option left. 

You grabbed a chair and threw it at the window, turning your face away from the shards. But nothing happened. The chair bounced off the glass and crashed to the floor. 

“You've got to be kidding me!” you cried in despair. 

You picked up the chair again and banged on the window with all your might, but nothing happened. Exhausted, in tears, you slid to the floor, curled up and sobbed for a few hours. He'd thought of everything. There was no way out. You could either accept your fate or be patient. Maybe, if you're a good girl, he'll let his guard down and you can break free. Or will he think you've given up and won't run away, and take you to outside where you can ask for help? You just have to be patient for a while. Play along, pretend. And you'll get your chance. 

You didn't notice it was noon already. A little late, but you opened the fridge and took out the blue container, as you'd been instructed. You ate, tidied up and watched TV until five in the evening, mindlessly changing channels. Time passed painfully slowly and you were consumed by dark, restless thoughts. At five you ate again and curled up on the sofa again. You dozed off and woke up when König came home. 

He was holding a huge hravy box. Rubbing your eyes sleepily, you jumped up. Without looking at you, he carried the box into the bedroom. When he came out and finally turned his attention to you, you shivered. Something about the look on his face didn't feel right. You backed away, leaning your back against the corner of the couch, tucking your legs under you and trying to pull your t-shirt down to cover yourself. 

His huge figure towered over you, and for the first time in your life you felt small. Tiny even. You fluttered your eyes in fear, not knowing what you had done. 

“Princess, I'm disappointed.” Your heart skipped a beat. “I thought you were a good girl, but what you did today... Do you realise that if you had broken the window, you could have hurt yourself?” He leaned towards you, his hands resting on the back of the sofa on either side of your head. Shit! Of course he know! If he'd set up cameras at  your home, he could have done the same at his place. “What were you going to do when you smashed the window? Jump from the twelfth floor? I'm trying to protect you and you're putting yourself in danger. I hate to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

You squirmed, expecting a hit, but he just straightened up and held out his hand for you. Reluctantly, you put your palm into his. He pulled you towards him and helped you to your feet. Without turning, he led you into the bedroom. A hundred thoughts, each more terrifying than the last, went through your head in those few seconds. What was he going to do to you? Beat you? Kill you? Rape you? All of it? In what order? You couldn't hold back the tears. You were so scared... 

He sat you down on the bed and reached for the box he had brought into the room earlier. He rummaged through it and pulled out a chain. 

“No, no, no, please don't,” you muttered, shaking your head. König said nothing. 

Ignoring your pleas, he snapped a metal ring at the end of the chain around your ankle. And secured the other end to the headboard of the bed. It was a very solid looking chain, not a soft aluminium piece  that could be broken with your bare hands. 

You looked at it with tear-filled eyes, frozen in horror. 

“Believe me, Princess, I really don't want to do this. I want to care about you, to surround you with love and affection, but you leave me no choice. It's for your own good. And for your safety. Hold out your hands.” He reached into the box again and pulled out the handcuffs. 

You stared at the shiny metal in panic. No. No, no, no, no, you will not be chained. You're not a dog to be chained! Seeing that you didn't do as he commanded, König reached for your wrists himself, and you couldn't help yourself. You began to wriggle free, twitching, screaming, flailing your arms wherever you could. He tried to grab you, to pin your arms to your sides. You collapsed onto the bed and continued your pointless struggle. In desperation you swung your elbow and heard a wet crunch and a muffled moan. 

“Shit!”

You turned to see König sitting up on the bed, his hand covering his nose. Scarlet blood oozed from between his fingers. 

“Oh no. I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!” you muttered in horror. 

That's it. You're done. If he was going to chain you to the bed for a failed attempt to smash a window, he was going to kill you for a broken nose. 

You sat up next to him on the bed, reaching for his face in a desperate attempt to make things right. The chain on your leg jingled softly, but you ignored it. You touched his wrist gently and he finally looked at you. You expected to see anger, rage and hatred. But all you saw was pain and something you couldn't identify. He suddenly froze, looked at you crookedly, and took his hand away from his face. You looked down at his injured nose, and at first glance it wasn't that bad. Yes, there was a lot of blood, but you didn't see any serious damage. The bone looked intact. Without thinking, you reached up to his face and gently touched his nose with your fingertips. 

“You need to ice it. There's so much blood,” you murmured quietly. 

König took your hands away from his face, squeezed them gently, rose slowly to his feet, and walked out of the bedroom. You froze, trying to comprehend what had happened. Your punch had been a lucky accident, but your reaction was weird. Fear and horror you could still understand, but why were you so uncomfortable seeing him in pain? He had literally kidnapped you, robbed you of your freedom. And before that, he had been watching your every move for an unknown period of time. He broke into your house, installed cameras. And yet you were wracked with guilt. Yes, he did a lot of disgusting things, but he was always nice to you... There was something wrong with the way you felt and thought. But you didn't have time to find out what it was. König returned to the bedroom, holding a bag of frozen raspberries in his hand. 

He sat on the bed with his back to the headboard. Covering his eyes, he held the bag out to you, and you obediently took it. And as you tried to work out what he wanted from you, he pulled you closer on his hip, guiding your hands so that you were pressing the frozen berry against the bridge of his nose. You didn't resist. 

“Help me, Princess. You got me pretty good. I'm dizzy.”

There was no trace of anger or resentment in his voice, only fatigue and weakness. A new wave of guilt washed over you and you nodded obediently. It was the least you could do to make amends. His hand fell wearily on your thigh. You shivered, but said nothing, nor did you try to avoid his touch. And König covered his eyes, and for a few seconds you sat like that. Silently. 

“How are your fingers, doll? Aren't they cold?” 

“What?” you asked absently.

“Aren't you tired of holding it?”

You were so stunned: you'd broken his nose and all he cared about was whether you were cold or tired. Something inside you clenched, you felt the pang of guilt again. Your shoulders trembled and you didn't notice the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“I'm so sorry, it wasn't on purpose, it was an accident, I didn't mean it,” you murmured, sobbing. 

König took the bag from your hands, put it on the bedside table and pulled you close to him.

“There, there, baby, it's all right. I know,” he comforted you, stroking your back. “You were just scared, weren't you?” You nodded. “It's okay, sweetheart. I'm not angry with you. I'm glad you didn't hurt yourself.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” you asked, looking into his face. Your soul was in such chaos. His caress was driving you mad and you couldn't understand anything.

“Not at all.” He smiled gently at you and kissed your forehead. “Let me wash the blood off my face and you'll see it's all right. At most, it'll be a bruise. Don't worry about it. I'm fine.”

You nodded. You pulled away and got off his thigh. He slowly got up and walked out of the bedroom, grabbing a bag of raspberries. You heard the freezer door slam and heard him washing up in the bathroom. All the while, you stared silently at the chain that still chained you to the bed. Only now it didn't stir any emotions in you. 

König returned to the bedroom, washed, wearing a fresh T-shirt. He made himself comfortable on the bed, pulled you to him and squeezed you tightly into his arms. You didn't resist. You even snuggled up against his hot body. 

“I'm sorry I scared you before, Princess.”

“It's all right.” 

“I just want you to know that your safety comes first. I'm going to have to restrict your movements around the flat for a while until I'm sure you won't try anything stupid again.” He kissed you on the temple. “Do you understand?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Can I expect you to be a good girl?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“That's good. By the way, I brought all your books and hobbies. So you won't get bored while I'm at work. If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Do you want me to give you a sedative again?” he asked, suddenly worried. “Just a small dose.”

“No, I’m fine.” 

“All right.” 

You fell silent, and this time the silence was pleasant. You closed your eyes and focused on the pounding of his heartbeat beneath your ear. A calm, steady rhythm. Lulling.

Next part | Masterlist

You worked in an office, your role in the organization was small, but you tried to take responsibility for your duties. You lived alone and had no one to take care of you, so you tried to hold on to your job. The money paid your rent, bills, and food, and you didn't want to spend it on anything else. At work, you tried not to talk to anyone about anything other than work. You didn't care about your coworkers' lives, they were "ordinary serious adults" with "ordinary serious topics of conversation": children, husbands, wives, grandchildren, shopping, and so on. You, on the other hand, were kept afloat only by video games, fanfics, and other entertainment that is "not appropriate for an almost 30-year-old woman". Maybe someone did share some of your interests, they just didn't talk about it. 

There was this guy in IT that you noticed. Well, it was hard not to notice him, he was a giant. Two meters tall, broad shoulders. He slouched and wore baggy clothes, so it was hard to judge his physique. Shaggy reddish hair hid his face. You didn't know exactly what his name was, but everyone called him König. The guy was kind of awkward, but it didn't bother you. You were polite to him if you had to call him for help. You smiled when you had to and said hello in the hallway or on the street if you ran into each other. Basically, you treated everyone that way, not just him. But when he came in one day to replace a cartridge in your printer wearing a t-shirt with your favorite character on it, you gave him a special place in your heart. You said nothing, in no way even hinted that you were interested in this character too. Just sometimes this giant crawled into your thoughts and you were pleased to think that in a parallel Universe you could have a buddy at work with whom you could discuss your common interests.

You were getting ready for your usual weekend. You went into your apartment, put your shopping on the kitchen table, and took a shower. You put on a T-shirt, plopped down on the couch with an ice cream in your hand, and turned on YouTube. It seemed to you that something had changed on the bookshelf where you kept a few plush toys. As if the toys were "looking" the other way. And there's less dust. Great, now you're also developing paranoia. You shook off the stupid thoughts and continued to mindlessly watch the video until you passed out on the couch deep past midnight. 

On Monday, you arrived at work and found a postcard on your desk, under your keyboard. It was a print of your favorite fan art with your favorite character. There was no writing on the back, just a crookedly drawn heart. You frowned puzzledly as you looked at the card and didn't know what to think. Maybe you'd bought it yourself and left it on your desk. Surely no one at work could know about your hobbies.

A week later, something happened to your phone. It seemed to have a life of its own, and your limited knowledge of technology wasn't enough to figure it out on your own. You hoped it could be fixed quickly, because you didn't want to buy a new phone. So you decided to ask König for help.

You went down to his floor and walked down the dark, gloomy corridor to his office. There were boxes of equipment and machinery piled everywhere, some wires and supplies, and the air conditioner was humming. König turned around at the sound of your footsteps, so ridiculously huge behind an ordinary office desk. His face was unreadable: he could be just neutrally waiting for your question, or he could be mentally cursing you for daring to step on his territory. Mysterious guy.

“Hi,” you started awkwardly, sighed, and decided to get right to the point. “Could you look at my phone? It's been freaking out since this morning. I know it's not work-related, but…”

He silently held out his hand in anticipation. You ran over to him and put the phone in his outstretched palm. How small it seemed in his huge hand. He was surprisingly deft with his big fingers, which literally fluttered over the screen. You couldn't help admiring it. All sorts of naughty thoughts came into your mind, but you tried to push them away. It's not the time. 

A couple minutes, and he hands you back your phone. It seems to be working even faster than before. You're a little embarrassed that he saw the screensaver - not a very decent screenshot of your favorite character. But he didn't say anything or even seem to notice it at all. You thanked him and ran back to your office. The next day, you dropped off a small goodie as a thank you. He silently accepted the gift from your hands and nodded. Again his expression was unreadable.

Toward the end of the week, you received a notification that your gift to yourself was ready to be delivered. You ordered a very unusual shaped dildo. Realistic models didn't appeal to you, because you couldn't help thinking about your loneliness when using them. But with monster toys, you could distract yourself. You certainly couldn't have a monster, and the vector of sad thoughts was toward “I wish they were real”rather than “I don't deserve their attention”. Which was better. Much better. 

The toy made you so happy that you didn't part with it all weekend. Somehow it was either inside you or close by, ready to satisfy you and let you briefly forget yourself. 

You went to work on Monday in a good mood. And there was a little dragon figurine waiting for you on your desk. The same color as your new toy. 

This time you even asked around the department who might have left you such a gift, but no one saw anything. The mystery of the millennium. Maybe someone noticed you were sad and decided to cheer you up. 

Another week was coming to an end, and somehow everything was on top of you. Your mood was terrible, you had to work late, it was pouring, and your phone was dead, so you couldn't even call a cab. You stood at the front door to the office building and stared puzzled at the wall of rain in front of you. Not a shred of hope that it would end soon.

The door behind you opened and König walked out of the building. You smiled pitifully at him, but didn't say anything else. You could have asked him to call you a cab, though. But you didn't.

He stood next to you, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, a second one. And then, calling out to you, he asked:

“Do you want a ride home?”

“No, that's okay. I'll wait till the rain stops. It's not too far. Thank you.”

“What if it rains till morning? Come on. I don't offer it to everyone.” 

You were a little surprised by his words, but you hardly talked much so you couldn’t tell if this was normal behavior for him or not. You thanked him and followed him to his car. Huge, just like the owner.

It was warm, dry, clean, and smelled good inside. Part of you expected the car to be chaotic and dirty, well, stereotypes of tech support employees. But no. You climbed into the passenger seat and tried to buckle your seatbelt. But something wasn't working. König silently helped you, and you could only flap your eyes, blushing shamefully. You couldn't even fasten your seat belt! 

In the car, König was like a different person. It even seemed to you that he was even taller. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and generally looked more relaxed and confident. He drove carefully, cautiously and relaxed. You gave him your address, but assured him it was okay if he dropped you off somewhere just nearby. He remained silent. At one of the intersections, you noticed he took a wrong turn and told him so.

“Sorry, I don't get around here much. I'm gonna have to take a little detour. Are you in a hurry?”

“No, no, I just- I don't want to waste your time.”

“Uh-huh. “

You drove in silence, and your imagination took you to a parallel world, where you were picked up from work by the man you loved, as if you were sitting not just in the passenger seat of his car, but in YOUR seat, where no one else has the right to sit. You imagined that in the glove compartment there were little things you might need and your favorite goodies. You imagined yourself as a spoiled passenger princess. And that's why you didn't want this trip to end. And you were even glad you had to make a detour on the way to your house. You were immersed in your fantasies and you didn't even notice you were dozing off.

“Wake up, princess, we're here,” a deep, mocking voice woke you up. You opened your eyes and turned sleepily to König. He was smirking, glancing at you, but without malice.

You smiled, thanked him again, and got out of the car. 

You walked home smiling. It's amazing how one kind gesture can change your mood so dramatically. 

On Monday, you brought treats to work for your coworkers - you did that sometimes, it was normal. And of course, you stopped by your rescuer's office and handed him some sweets too. As a thank you for giving you a ride home on Friday, of course. No big deal. 

All week, office equipment has been going crazy. The computer locked up, the printer broke, the keyboard jammed, the mouse wire broke. Every day you had to call tech support for help, and by the fifth time you were so embarrassed that you couldn't stop apologizing while König was crouched under your desk trying to fix something in the system block.

“I'm so sorry. I don't know why everything started breaking all of a sudden. It's never happened before. Thank you for always being so quick to help,” you chirped, standing nearby, waiting.

“Everything's fine. The equipment hadn't been updated in a long time. Sometimes it happens that everything goes out of order at once,” he tried to comfort you. He spoke quietly and in a slurred voice. Not like when he offered you a ride home. 

“Yeah, except for some reason the others are fine.” 

He didn't say anything back. A couple minutes later, he crawled out from under the table. You marveled at his size again, how could he even fit under the table?! 

“It should work now.”

“Thank you!”

He left, and you got through the day without incident.

But the trouble just wouldn't stop raining down on your poor head. There was a burst pipe in your building, and the situation was so bad that the restoration work could take days, if not weeks. Walls had to be taken apart, pipes had to be replaced, walls had to be replaced from the inside, and so on. You were lucky - your apartment survived, but was completely disconnected from water or sewage. You spent a couple nights in a hotel, hoping the problem would be fixed quickly and you could go home. But the repairs dragged on.

It was expensive to stay in a hotel, of course, but the main problem was that you couldn't sleep. Anxiety kept you awake at night, and you tossed and turned until morning, unable to sleep. A strange bed, not your prefferable mattress hardness, cold dull sheets, one thin pillow, all wrong! You needed many pillows, many blankets, you could only sleep in your nest, surrounded on all sides, pressed down on top with a heavy blanket, squeezed so tightly that for a second your inflamed brain could believe it was someone hugging you. Deprived of your usual comfort, you couldn't sleep at all. And at work you almost cried from fatigue. 

In the evening, you left the building and sat down on a bench. You should have called a cab, because you would never have gotten home on foot, but you didn't have the energy even for that. You looked around and, making sure no one was around, let the tears flow. You just felt really, really sorry for yourself. You were already struggling to cope with the daily chores, and facing difficulties, even the most minor ones, was beyond your strength.

A huge, hot hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched and jerked back, but the hand stayed where it was. König stood in front of you, scrutinizing you. You couldn't understand the expression on his face, but the warmth of his palm squeezing your shoulder made you cry harder. And you just sat on that damn bench, tearful and whimpering, while a huge man, with whom you had nothing to do, stood silently in front of you and just looked at you. 

Crying, you wiped your face with your sleeve and looked into his eyes.

“I'm sorry about that scene…”

“Did someone hurt you?” He asked.

You grinned bitterly:

“Unless life itself. No, nothing like that. It's just the usual everyday stuff, so many problems at once…”

“Can I help?”

“You don't have to, you're always helping me out. I can't thank you enough. It's nothing, it's just that there's been an accident at my house and the water's been cut off for a few days. I'm staying at a hotel, but I can't sleep out of my bed. I'm used to it being cold, lots of pillows, blankets. A real nest, you know?” You were getting chatty from lack of sleep and you were definitely telling more about yourself than you wanted to, but you couldn't get your words back. “It's okay, at some point I'll pass out. And everything will be better.”

“You can sleep over at my place.”

You blinked dumbfoundedly a few times.

“Oh, don't bother, I don't feel comfortable imposing.”

“One night won't bother me too much. And about the nest. I'm not implying anything, but I can offer eight pillows and a couple blankets. All for you alone.” He grinned, but in a way that you thought was kind. And you had to admit to yourself that it sounded really tempting. 

Suddenly you agreed. König didn't seem surprised, as if he knew you wouldn't refuse his offer. He smoked a cigarette, then held out his hand, which you readily took, and led you to his car. You climbed into the familiar passenger seat. König closed your door and walked slowly around the car, swaying slightly as he walked. It was as if he were showing off his broad shoulders. When he sat down next to you and started the engine, you reached for your seat belt, but it wouldn't stretch. 

You were afraid to pull hard, because you didn't want to break anything, but a careful approach wasn't working either. You looked at König with a silent plea in your eyes.

“Ah, the belt?” He asked and, as if nothing had happened, bent over you and reached for the belt. He fiddled with it for a while, and you barely breathed, covered by his huge body. The scent of his cologne even reached you. “It sticks sometimes, and I can't get around to fixing it.” König finished fiddling with the belt and smiled at you, still hovering over you, before returning to his seat and winking at you. 

A blush scorched your cheeks and you smiled awkwardly back. 

“Do you need anything at home?” He asked, driving out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“You know, for the night? A toothbrush, your favorite shampoo, fresh clothes for tomorrow, your favorite pajamas, or a stuffed dinosaur?” He was obviously teasing you, but you were surprised: you did have a stuffed dinosaur at home. 

“Oh, right. Yes, thank you, I should get some things... I live…” You wanted to dictate an address, but he interrupted you:

“I remember.”

You calmly drove to your house, you jumped out of the car, leaving your bag and phone there, and, throwing: “Thanks, I'll be quick!” you ran home. In a small bag you gathered a clean dress, fresh underwear, a minimal set of hygiene products. Catching a glimpse of your plush dinosaur, you smiled. Nice of König to guess. 

You walked out of the house and saw him standing by the car with a cigarette waiting for you. With a smile, you walked closer and awkwardly fumbled in place.

“Jump in the car, princess. I'll finish this and then we'll go.”

The affectionate nickname embarrassed you, but it felt warm in your chest. No one had ever called you that before. It felt good but a little awkward.

In the car, he helped you with your seatbelt again and you spent the rest of the drive to his house in silence. He didn't turn on any music or radio, but you were comfortable as it was.

You arrived about half an hour later. An ordinary apartment building in a quiet neighborhood. Twelfth floor, second door on the right. A large metal door, even in appearance it was very heavy. König let you through and, coming in next, turned on the hallway light. Bare light gray walls, a minimalist coat rack and shoe rack, and a few doors. Also light gray, plain, with gray metal handles. You shivered. 

“Here's the bathroom,” König began, opening one of the doors and showing you the bathroom. It's black and white tiled, clean and... empty. “This is the living room and this is the bedroom, you can throw your things in there right away. Take a look around, make yourself at home, and I'll run to the corner store and get us something for dinner.”

He didn't wait for your answer, but went straight out of the apartment. You heard the lock click. 

You walked into the bedroom. A huge bed with a lot of pillows, a lattice headboard, empty nightstands on either side, only minimalist lamps. by the curtained window was a dresser and an empty shelf. So big, you thought, you could even fit all your books in there. Opposite the bed wass a huge mirror. You didn't have any decent thoughts about it. The room was clean, sterile even. As if no one had ever lived in it. 

Daring, you checked the next room - the same gray and empty living room, combined with the kitchen. Everything was sparkling clean, nothing extra on the tables. Empty and cold. Such an environment was mildly unsettling. A dwelling that bore no markings of its owner suggested thoughts of maniacs and psychopaths. 

You tried to check the next room, but the door was locked. 

The front door opened, and the owner of the apartment came in, rustling his bag. He walked straight into the kitchen, nodding his head to invite you to follow him. He gestured to a chair behind the counter. You obediently sat down. He was sorting through his purchases, putting some of them in the refrigerator (almost empty, you noticed), some of them in front of you. Last of all, he put a bottle of a light fruity alcoholic drink in front of you. And you smiled:

“Oh, I love this, I bought it the other day. It's so good! How did you know?!”

He took the bottle from your hands, opened it and handed it back. 

“I don't know, it just seemed like the right drink for a princess like you.”

Your cheeks flushed, you sipped from the bottle, and you began to eat dinner. 

Dinner was going well, you even started a light casual conversation. You relaxed, your worries receded, and the alcohol helped you forget about your worries and just enjoy the relaxing evening. You couldn't resist asking:

“Your apartment looks so empty, uninhabited…”

“Yeah, I just moved here recently, and it's definitely lacking a woman's touch. What would you change?”

“Me?” You hesitated, not feeling the question. “Well, I'd maybe add more color. Everything's so cold and unfriendly. It's like it's not a house, but... I don't even know what to compare it to. Usually there's little things here and there that tell you about the owners. You've got this place all empty and sad.”

He didn't say anything, just looked at you. You felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. You looked at your watch.

“It's late. Would you be offended if I jumped in the shower and went straight to bed? It's been a long day.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you remember where the bathroom is?” You nodded. “When you're done, you can go straight to the bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch.”

“No, no, I can't kick you out of your own bed. I…”

“It's not up for discussion, princess. Get in the shower.”

Something in his tone made you obediently shut up and go to the bathroom. Trying to be as quick as possible, you rinsed yourself, brushed your teeth, and put on the pajamas you'd brought from home. Usually you slept in your underwear or naked, but you weren't going to do that in someone else's house. You shamefully hid your dirty underwear in a bag and wrapped it in a tight ball. When you ran out of the bathroom, you quickly stuffed it into your purse and zipped it up tightly. It was awkward and embarrassing, but you couldn't see any other way out. When you went into the bedroom, König was there, pulling a blanket out of the closet.

“I still feel bad about you sleeping on the couch. Maybe we could lie together. The bed is huge,” you suggested tentatively.

“Oh, princess, you don't want that, believe me.”

You wrinkled your nose in puzzlement. 

“Why not?”

“I hug everything I can get my hands on in my sleep.”

“Oh.”

He hummed contentedly and pinched your cheek as he walked past you. You were surprised at the familiarity, but you didn't mind. You liked König, and it was silly to deny it. He was a great help both on and off work, you knew you had some common interests, and he seemed like a nice guy. So you just smiled back.

“You can tuck yourself in. I'm going to stay in my room for a while longer.” He nodded at the locked door. “If you need anything, feel free to knock. “

“I will. Thank you again for everything. “

“Not at all, princess, it's no trouble at all. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You shut the bedroom door, turned off the light, and laid down. A perfectly firm mattress, a pile of pillows that you shamelessly piled around you, forming a cozy nest, a nice coolness and a heavy blanket, just the way you like it. Perfect. You fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. You hadn't slept so sweetly in a long time.

König woke you in the morning, shaking you lightly by the shoulder. You looked up sleepily, not sure why the huge man was hovering over you. You wiped your eyes and smiled: 

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, princess. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I just wanted to say I'm going out for a run for about an hour. I'm gonna have to lock you in. It's early, so you can get more sleep.” 

He stroked your head and you closed your eyes, arching up to meet the caress. 

“Good. Have a good... run?”

You giggled, and he smiled back at you. And left. 

It was a little weird being alone in someone else's apartment. You felt well rested, so you decided it was time to get up. You carefully made your bed, washed your face, ate the leftovers from last night's dinner, and watched the morning news on TV. 

Your curiosity was piqued and you tried to peek behind the locked door again. To your surprise it was open. You were a little embarrassed to be prowling around someone else's house, but you figured that if he really didn't want you to be able to look in that room, he would have locked it. Like yesterday. 

You pushed the door open, and darkness swallowed you. The noise of the fans and air conditioner filled the room, and the lights of the indicators glowed in the darkness. You lit your way with your phone's flashlight. Computer. And not just an ordinary set up, not even a gaming one. Several monitors, a bunch of equipment whose purpose was unknown to you. An iron cabinet against the wall with lockable drawers. You started to feel uncomfortable. But you stepped closer and moved the mouse on the desk. Three of the five monitors lit up. And you froze, staring at them. And the longer you stared, the more horror seized you.

On one monitor, divided into four parts, were the surveillance tapes. And you knew exactly where they were pointed. One was on your couch, as if looking at you through the eyes of your stuffed toy from the shelve across the room. The second was on your bed. Third, your bathroom. And the fourth was your kitchen. Every room was on view. And in good quality. 

The second monitor in the corner of the screen also had a camera window, only pointed somewhere... You didn't realize it right away, but it was a chair under the table. The camera was mounted under the desk. Probably under yours... You remembered at once how König had come to adjust something on your computer and how he had spent a long time under your desk. 

Explorer was open on the third monitor. The “Princess” folder. In it were the folders "Home," "Work," "From Phone," "From Laptop," "Social". You opened the "Home" folder. Inside: "Spicy" and "By Date". With a trembling hand, you moved the mouse cursor to "Spicy". You opened it. Lots of videos: "With a new toy", "In the bathtub", "In a new collar" and so on. You opened the first video. Footage from a camera pointed at your bed. And you're with your legs spread wide, testing out your new toy. The second one shows you with the same toy, but in the bathtub. On the third, you're back in bed, but this time you're wearing a choker around your neck. 

Your blood runs cold in your veins. How could he sneak into your house and install cameras?! When? What was he gonna do with those videos? 

You're back at the "From Phone" folder. Inside: "From Camera" and "Screen Recording". He had access to all your personal information. You didn't know how, you didn't know when, but he had set up total surveillance on you. He followed you through your phone camera, through your laptop camera, he had access to all your social media accounts, he saw every message you sent, every post you made, every password, every action you took. He methodically sorted your entries by date and topic, clipping any points of interest into separate folders where he could find them quickly. He knew everything about you. He didn't just guess what drink to buy you - he'd seen you buy the exact same one a couple days ago and saw that you liked it. And he didn't guess about the stuffed dinosaur either, he knew you had one. 

You couldn't take it anymore, terror gripped your throat, and on shaky legs you staggered toward the exit. Run. Run as far away as possible was your only thought.

Your back bumped into something large, still, hot. You turned around. It was König. You didn't hear him come back.

“You weren't supposed to see it,” he said surprisingly calmly. And that only made you more afraid.

“What does all this mean?” You asked in a weak voice.

He didn't answer, just took a step toward you. You drew back. When you hit the iron cabinet with your back, you panicked. You can't escape. No one knows where you are. He can do anything to you, and there's nothing you can do. 

“Please don't hurt me. Please, I won't say anything to anyone,” you babbled as he came close to you. He held your waist with one hand and cupped your cheek with the other, his fingers caressing your skin softly. You feel a tear trickle down your cheek, and he catches it with his fingers.

“Now, now, princess, there's no need to cry. I just want to take care of you.”

He turns you around to face the monitors. Holding you by the shoulder with one hand, he takes hold of the mouse with the other and quickly finds the right video folder. The folder is called "Crying". Inside are many files, sorted by date. He clicked on one. It shows you lying on your bed, sobbing, face pressed into a pillow. He cranks the sound up to full, and you hear yourself mumbling pitifully:

“I can't take it anymore... It hurts too much. How much more?!” 

And as you look at yourself curled up on the bed, König kisses you affectionately on the temple and whispers in your ear:

“Do you know how much it hurt me to look at you like that? You were suffering and I couldn't do anything to help you. If I had been there, I would have comforted you. Princess, I can make it so that this” he jabbed his finger at the screen, “will never happen again. М?”

“What are you talking about?” you mumble confusedly.

“I can put you out of your pain and suffering. No work, no chores, no bills. No loneliness. You will never be “too much” for me, none of your thoughts and words will repulse me because I already know about them. Oh, princess, if I could get inside your head and know what you're thinking 24/7... I would. I want to know everything about you, princess.”

“I don't understand,” you whispered pitifully. 

“You don't need to understand. You just need to be mine. Stay here with me. And I'll take care of everything.” 

“And if I don't want to?”

“Then I'll have to take you by force. And I really don't want to do that.”

He turned you to face him again, took your face in his palms gently, gently gathered the moisture from your cheeks with his lips. 

“I can be very gentle, princess. And I want to be that way with you. Don't make me treat you badly, hmm? I'll be your new world, so there won't be any more bad thoughts in your adorable head. Just me.” 

You only cried harder. He pulled you against him, pressing your face against his shoulder. He stroked your head and kissed the top, whispering comforting things to you. 

You were terrified, so scared, so crushed. Someone had been watching you all this time, had seen you in your most vulnerable moments, had seen you sobbing, seeing you fall apart, indulging in gluttony, satisfying yourself. He's seen you naked, dirty, pathetic and crushed. He read all your posts, he saw what posts you liked, what comments you wrote, what stories you made up. The illusion of privacy dissipated. You were only asking yourself one question:

“Why me?”

“Let's call it love at first sight, shall we?”

An answer that only left more questions. You clenched your eyes shut, trying to calm down and think straight. You couldn't resist him physically, and you couldn't run away. Maybe if you played along, he'd relax and you could slip away, call the police...? You'll change your phone, your computer, change the locks or move to another city altogether, change your passport and all your documents, your job, your appearance. You'll escape, you'll save yourself.

The voice in your head hissed mockingly: “Run away? But to where? To loneliness mixed with paranoia? Not a living soul cares about you, you have no friends, no relatives. You spent so many years trying to find one true friend, and how much were you afraid to open up? How many tears did you shed because you didn't want to show your ugly side and at the same time you wanted to be seen? He's already seen everything. He already knows everything. Your dirtiest secrets. And he still wants you all to himself. Despite how ugly and broken you are. How many people do you think would want to take someone like you under their wing? At least he treats you well and wants to take care of you. Isn't that perfect? Isn't that what you dreamed of? Someone obsessed with you, someone who won't let you go no matter what? And now that you're being handed everything you've ever dreamed of on a silver platter, you're scared?! For once in your life, do yourself a favor and just take what you're given!”

It's been a few minutes of your silent embrace. 

“Are you going to be a good girl?” He asked warily. Like he was really afraid you'd say no and he'd have to use force. Like he really didn't want that.

“Yes,” you answered shortly in a lifeless voice.

“Good girl. You're so good. I promise I'll make you the happiest person in the world!” 

He squeezed you tighter, pulling you off the floor, spinning you around the room. He was genuinely happy. And you... You'll learn to be happy with him. He'll take care of you.

Next part | Masterlist

You worked in an office, your role in the organization was small, but you tried to take responsibility for your duties. You lived alone and had no one to take care of you, so you tried to hold on to your job. The money paid your rent, bills, and food, and you didn't want to spend it on anything else. At work, you tried not to talk to anyone about anything other than work. You didn't care about your coworkers' lives, they were "ordinary serious adults" with "ordinary serious topics of conversation": children, husbands, wives, grandchildren, shopping, and so on. You, on the other hand, were kept afloat only by video games, fanfics, and other entertainment that is "not appropriate for an almost 30-year-old woman". Maybe someone did share some of your interests, they just didn't talk about it. 

There was this guy in IT that you noticed. Well, it was hard not to notice him, he was a giant. Two meters tall, broad shoulders. He slouched and wore baggy clothes, so it was hard to judge his physique. Shaggy reddish hair hid his face. You didn't know exactly what his name was, but everyone called him König. The guy was kind of awkward, but it didn't bother you. You were polite to him if you had to call him for help. You smiled when you had to and said hello in the hallway or on the street if you ran into each other. Basically, you treated everyone that way, not just him. But when he came in one day to replace a cartridge in your printer wearing a t-shirt with your favorite character on it, you gave him a special place in your heart. You said nothing, in no way even hinted that you were interested in this character too. Just sometimes this giant crawled into your thoughts and you were pleased to think that in a parallel Universe you could have a buddy at work with whom you could discuss your common interests.

You were getting ready for your usual weekend. You went into your apartment, put your shopping on the kitchen table, and took a shower. You put on a T-shirt, plopped down on the couch with an ice cream in your hand, and turned on YouTube. It seemed to you that something had changed on the bookshelf where you kept a few plush toys. As if the toys were "looking" the other way. And there's less dust. Great, now you're also developing paranoia. You shook off the stupid thoughts and continued to mindlessly watch the video until you passed out on the couch deep past midnight. 

On Monday, you arrived at work and found a postcard on your desk, under your keyboard. It was a print of your favorite fan art with your favorite character. There was no writing on the back, just a crookedly drawn heart. You frowned puzzledly as you looked at the card and didn't know what to think. Maybe you'd bought it yourself and left it on your desk. Surely no one at work could know about your hobbies.

A week later, something happened to your phone. It seemed to have a life of its own, and your limited knowledge of technology wasn't enough to figure it out on your own. You hoped it could be fixed quickly, because you didn't want to buy a new phone. So you decided to ask König for help.

You went down to his floor and walked down the dark, gloomy corridor to his office. There were boxes of equipment and machinery piled everywhere, some wires and supplies, and the air conditioner was humming. König turned around at the sound of your footsteps, so ridiculously huge behind an ordinary office desk. His face was unreadable: he could be just neutrally waiting for your question, or he could be mentally cursing you for daring to step on his territory. Mysterious guy.

“Hi,” you started awkwardly, sighed, and decided to get right to the point. “Could you look at my phone? It's been freaking out since this morning. I know it's not work-related, but…”

He silently held out his hand in anticipation. You ran over to him and put the phone in his outstretched palm. How small it seemed in his huge hand. He was surprisingly deft with his big fingers, which literally fluttered over the screen. You couldn't help admiring it. All sorts of naughty thoughts came into your mind, but you tried to push them away. It's not the time. 

A couple minutes, and he hands you back your phone. It seems to be working even faster than before. You're a little embarrassed that he saw the screensaver - not a very decent screenshot of your favorite character. But he didn't say anything or even seem to notice it at all. You thanked him and ran back to your office. The next day, you dropped off a small goodie as a thank you. He silently accepted the gift from your hands and nodded. Again his expression was unreadable.

Toward the end of the week, you received a notification that your gift to yourself was ready to be delivered. You ordered a very unusual shaped dildo. Realistic models didn't appeal to you, because you couldn't help thinking about your loneliness when using them. But with monster toys, you could distract yourself. You certainly couldn't have a monster, and the vector of sad thoughts was toward “I wish they were real”rather than “I don't deserve their attention”. Which was better. Much better. 

The toy made you so happy that you didn't part with it all weekend. Somehow it was either inside you or close by, ready to satisfy you and let you briefly forget yourself. 

You went to work on Monday in a good mood. And there was a little dragon figurine waiting for you on your desk. The same color as your new toy. 

This time you even asked around the department who might have left you such a gift, but no one saw anything. The mystery of the millennium. Maybe someone noticed you were sad and decided to cheer you up. 

Another week was coming to an end, and somehow everything was on top of you. Your mood was terrible, you had to work late, it was pouring, and your phone was dead, so you couldn't even call a cab. You stood at the front door to the office building and stared puzzled at the wall of rain in front of you. Not a shred of hope that it would end soon.

The door behind you opened and König walked out of the building. You smiled pitifully at him, but didn't say anything else. You could have asked him to call you a cab, though. But you didn't.

He stood next to you, leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, a second one. And then, calling out to you, he asked:

“Do you want a ride home?”

“No, that's okay. I'll wait till the rain stops. It's not too far. Thank you.”

“What if it rains till morning? Come on. I don't offer it to everyone.” 

You were a little surprised by his words, but you hardly talked much so you couldn’t tell if this was normal behavior for him or not. You thanked him and followed him to his car. Huge, just like the owner.

It was warm, dry, clean, and smelled good inside. Part of you expected the car to be chaotic and dirty, well, stereotypes of tech support employees. But no. You climbed into the passenger seat and tried to buckle your seatbelt. But something wasn't working. König silently helped you, and you could only flap your eyes, blushing shamefully. You couldn't even fasten your seat belt! 

In the car, König was like a different person. It even seemed to you that he was even taller. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and generally looked more relaxed and confident. He drove carefully, cautiously and relaxed. You gave him your address, but assured him it was okay if he dropped you off somewhere just nearby. He remained silent. At one of the intersections, you noticed he took a wrong turn and told him so.

“Sorry, I don't get around here much. I'm gonna have to take a little detour. Are you in a hurry?”

“No, no, I just- I don't want to waste your time.”

“Uh-huh. “

You drove in silence, and your imagination took you to a parallel world, where you were picked up from work by the man you loved, as if you were sitting not just in the passenger seat of his car, but in YOUR seat, where no one else has the right to sit. You imagined that in the glove compartment there were little things you might need and your favorite goodies. You imagined yourself as a spoiled passenger princess. And that's why you didn't want this trip to end. And you were even glad you had to make a detour on the way to your house. You were immersed in your fantasies and you didn't even notice you were dozing off.

“Wake up, princess, we're here,” a deep, mocking voice woke you up. You opened your eyes and turned sleepily to König. He was smirking, glancing at you, but without malice.

You smiled, thanked him again, and got out of the car. 

You walked home smiling. It's amazing how one kind gesture can change your mood so dramatically. 

On Monday, you brought treats to work for your coworkers - you did that sometimes, it was normal. And of course, you stopped by your rescuer's office and handed him some sweets too. As a thank you for giving you a ride home on Friday, of course. No big deal. 

All week, office equipment has been going crazy. The computer locked up, the printer broke, the keyboard jammed, the mouse wire broke. Every day you had to call tech support for help, and by the fifth time you were so embarrassed that you couldn't stop apologizing while König was crouched under your desk trying to fix something in the system block.

“I'm so sorry. I don't know why everything started breaking all of a sudden. It's never happened before. Thank you for always being so quick to help,” you chirped, standing nearby, waiting.

“Everything's fine. The equipment hadn't been updated in a long time. Sometimes it happens that everything goes out of order at once,” he tried to comfort you. He spoke quietly and in a slurred voice. Not like when he offered you a ride home. 

“Yeah, except for some reason the others are fine.” 

He didn't say anything back. A couple minutes later, he crawled out from under the table. You marveled at his size again, how could he even fit under the table?! 

“It should work now.”

“Thank you!”

He left, and you got through the day without incident.

But the trouble just wouldn't stop raining down on your poor head. There was a burst pipe in your building, and the situation was so bad that the restoration work could take days, if not weeks. Walls had to be taken apart, pipes had to be replaced, walls had to be replaced from the inside, and so on. You were lucky - your apartment survived, but was completely disconnected from water or sewage. You spent a couple nights in a hotel, hoping the problem would be fixed quickly and you could go home. But the repairs dragged on.

It was expensive to stay in a hotel, of course, but the main problem was that you couldn't sleep. Anxiety kept you awake at night, and you tossed and turned until morning, unable to sleep. A strange bed, not your prefferable mattress hardness, cold dull sheets, one thin pillow, all wrong! You needed many pillows, many blankets, you could only sleep in your nest, surrounded on all sides, pressed down on top with a heavy blanket, squeezed so tightly that for a second your inflamed brain could believe it was someone hugging you. Deprived of your usual comfort, you couldn't sleep at all. And at work you almost cried from fatigue. 

In the evening, you left the building and sat down on a bench. You should have called a cab, because you would never have gotten home on foot, but you didn't have the energy even for that. You looked around and, making sure no one was around, let the tears flow. You just felt really, really sorry for yourself. You were already struggling to cope with the daily chores, and facing difficulties, even the most minor ones, was beyond your strength.

A huge, hot hand rested on your shoulder. You flinched and jerked back, but the hand stayed where it was. König stood in front of you, scrutinizing you. You couldn't understand the expression on his face, but the warmth of his palm squeezing your shoulder made you cry harder. And you just sat on that damn bench, tearful and whimpering, while a huge man, with whom you had nothing to do, stood silently in front of you and just looked at you. 

Crying, you wiped your face with your sleeve and looked into his eyes.

“I'm sorry about that scene…”

“Did someone hurt you?” He asked.

You grinned bitterly:

“Unless life itself. No, nothing like that. It's just the usual everyday stuff, so many problems at once…”

“Can I help?”

“You don't have to, you're always helping me out. I can't thank you enough. It's nothing, it's just that there's been an accident at my house and the water's been cut off for a few days. I'm staying at a hotel, but I can't sleep out of my bed. I'm used to it being cold, lots of pillows, blankets. A real nest, you know?” You were getting chatty from lack of sleep and you were definitely telling more about yourself than you wanted to, but you couldn't get your words back. “It's okay, at some point I'll pass out. And everything will be better.”

“You can sleep over at my place.”

You blinked dumbfoundedly a few times.

“Oh, don't bother, I don't feel comfortable imposing.”

“One night won't bother me too much. And about the nest. I'm not implying anything, but I can offer eight pillows and a couple blankets. All for you alone.” He grinned, but in a way that you thought was kind. And you had to admit to yourself that it sounded really tempting. 

Suddenly you agreed. König didn't seem surprised, as if he knew you wouldn't refuse his offer. He smoked a cigarette, then held out his hand, which you readily took, and led you to his car. You climbed into the familiar passenger seat. König closed your door and walked slowly around the car, swaying slightly as he walked. It was as if he were showing off his broad shoulders. When he sat down next to you and started the engine, you reached for your seat belt, but it wouldn't stretch. 

You were afraid to pull hard, because you didn't want to break anything, but a careful approach wasn't working either. You looked at König with a silent plea in your eyes.

“Ah, the belt?” He asked and, as if nothing had happened, bent over you and reached for the belt. He fiddled with it for a while, and you barely breathed, covered by his huge body. The scent of his cologne even reached you. “It sticks sometimes, and I can't get around to fixing it.” König finished fiddling with the belt and smiled at you, still hovering over you, before returning to his seat and winking at you. 

A blush scorched your cheeks and you smiled awkwardly back. 

“Do you need anything at home?” He asked, driving out of the parking lot.

“What?”

“You know, for the night? A toothbrush, your favorite shampoo, fresh clothes for tomorrow, your favorite pajamas, or a stuffed dinosaur?” He was obviously teasing you, but you were surprised: you did have a stuffed dinosaur at home. 

“Oh, right. Yes, thank you, I should get some things... I live…” You wanted to dictate an address, but he interrupted you:

“I remember.”

You calmly drove to your house, you jumped out of the car, leaving your bag and phone there, and, throwing: “Thanks, I'll be quick!” you ran home. In a small bag you gathered a clean dress, fresh underwear, a minimal set of hygiene products. Catching a glimpse of your plush dinosaur, you smiled. Nice of König to guess. 

You walked out of the house and saw him standing by the car with a cigarette waiting for you. With a smile, you walked closer and awkwardly fumbled in place.

“Jump in the car, princess. I'll finish this and then we'll go.”

The affectionate nickname embarrassed you, but it felt warm in your chest. No one had ever called you that before. It felt good but a little awkward.

In the car, he helped you with your seatbelt again and you spent the rest of the drive to his house in silence. He didn't turn on any music or radio, but you were comfortable as it was.

You arrived about half an hour later. An ordinary apartment building in a quiet neighborhood. Twelfth floor, second door on the right. A large metal door, even in appearance it was very heavy. König let you through and, coming in next, turned on the hallway light. Bare light gray walls, a minimalist coat rack and shoe rack, and a few doors. Also light gray, plain, with gray metal handles. You shivered. 

“Here's the bathroom,” König began, opening one of the doors and showing you the bathroom. It's black and white tiled, clean and... empty. “This is the living room and this is the bedroom, you can throw your things in there right away. Take a look around, make yourself at home, and I'll run to the corner store and get us something for dinner.”

He didn't wait for your answer, but went straight out of the apartment. You heard the lock click. 

You walked into the bedroom. A huge bed with a lot of pillows, a lattice headboard, empty nightstands on either side, only minimalist lamps. by the curtained window was a dresser and an empty shelf. So big, you thought, you could even fit all your books in there. Opposite the bed wass a huge mirror. You didn't have any decent thoughts about it. The room was clean, sterile even. As if no one had ever lived in it. 

Daring, you checked the next room - the same gray and empty living room, combined with the kitchen. Everything was sparkling clean, nothing extra on the tables. Empty and cold. Such an environment was mildly unsettling. A dwelling that bore no markings of its owner suggested thoughts of maniacs and psychopaths. 

You tried to check the next room, but the door was locked. 

The front door opened, and the owner of the apartment came in, rustling his bag. He walked straight into the kitchen, nodding his head to invite you to follow him. He gestured to a chair behind the counter. You obediently sat down. He was sorting through his purchases, putting some of them in the refrigerator (almost empty, you noticed), some of them in front of you. Last of all, he put a bottle of a light fruity alcoholic drink in front of you. And you smiled:

“Oh, I love this, I bought it the other day. It's so good! How did you know?!”

He took the bottle from your hands, opened it and handed it back. 

“I don't know, it just seemed like the right drink for a princess like you.”

Your cheeks flushed, you sipped from the bottle, and you began to eat dinner. 

Dinner was going well, you even started a light casual conversation. You relaxed, your worries receded, and the alcohol helped you forget about your worries and just enjoy the relaxing evening. You couldn't resist asking:

“Your apartment looks so empty, uninhabited…”

“Yeah, I just moved here recently, and it's definitely lacking a woman's touch. What would you change?”

“Me?” You hesitated, not feeling the question. “Well, I'd maybe add more color. Everything's so cold and unfriendly. It's like it's not a house, but... I don't even know what to compare it to. Usually there's little things here and there that tell you about the owners. You've got this place all empty and sad.”

He didn't say anything, just looked at you. You felt a little uncomfortable under his gaze. You looked at your watch.

“It's late. Would you be offended if I jumped in the shower and went straight to bed? It's been a long day.”

“Yeah, sure. Do you remember where the bathroom is?” You nodded. “When you're done, you can go straight to the bedroom, I'll sleep on the couch.”

“No, no, I can't kick you out of your own bed. I…”

“It's not up for discussion, princess. Get in the shower.”

Something in his tone made you obediently shut up and go to the bathroom. Trying to be as quick as possible, you rinsed yourself, brushed your teeth, and put on the pajamas you'd brought from home. Usually you slept in your underwear or naked, but you weren't going to do that in someone else's house. You shamefully hid your dirty underwear in a bag and wrapped it in a tight ball. When you ran out of the bathroom, you quickly stuffed it into your purse and zipped it up tightly. It was awkward and embarrassing, but you couldn't see any other way out. When you went into the bedroom, König was there, pulling a blanket out of the closet.

“I still feel bad about you sleeping on the couch. Maybe we could lie together. The bed is huge,” you suggested tentatively.

“Oh, princess, you don't want that, believe me.”

You wrinkled your nose in puzzlement. 

“Why not?”

“I hug everything I can get my hands on in my sleep.”

“Oh.”

He hummed contentedly and pinched your cheek as he walked past you. You were surprised at the familiarity, but you didn't mind. You liked König, and it was silly to deny it. He was a great help both on and off work, you knew you had some common interests, and he seemed like a nice guy. So you just smiled back.

“You can tuck yourself in. I'm going to stay in my room for a while longer.” He nodded at the locked door. “If you need anything, feel free to knock. “

“I will. Thank you again for everything. “

“Not at all, princess, it's no trouble at all. Good night.”

“Good night.”

You shut the bedroom door, turned off the light, and laid down. A perfectly firm mattress, a pile of pillows that you shamelessly piled around you, forming a cozy nest, a nice coolness and a heavy blanket, just the way you like it. Perfect. You fell into a deep sleep almost immediately. You hadn't slept so sweetly in a long time.

König woke you in the morning, shaking you lightly by the shoulder. You looked up sleepily, not sure why the huge man was hovering over you. You wiped your eyes and smiled: 

“Good morning!”

“Good morning, princess. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“I just wanted to say I'm going out for a run for about an hour. I'm gonna have to lock you in. It's early, so you can get more sleep.” 

He stroked your head and you closed your eyes, arching up to meet the caress. 

“Good. Have a good... run?”

You giggled, and he smiled back at you. And left. 

It was a little weird being alone in someone else's apartment. You felt well rested, so you decided it was time to get up. You carefully made your bed, washed your face, ate the leftovers from last night's dinner, and watched the morning news on TV. 

Your curiosity was piqued and you tried to peek behind the locked door again. To your surprise it was open. You were a little embarrassed to be prowling around someone else's house, but you figured that if he really didn't want you to be able to look in that room, he would have locked it. Like yesterday. 

You pushed the door open, and darkness swallowed you. The noise of the fans and air conditioner filled the room, and the lights of the indicators glowed in the darkness. You lit your way with your phone's flashlight. Computer. And not just an ordinary set up, not even a gaming one. Several monitors, a bunch of equipment whose purpose was unknown to you. An iron cabinet against the wall with lockable drawers. You started to feel uncomfortable. But you stepped closer and moved the mouse on the desk. Three of the five monitors lit up. And you froze, staring at them. And the longer you stared, the more horror seized you.

On one monitor, divided into four parts, were the surveillance tapes. And you knew exactly where they were pointed. One was on your couch, as if looking at you through the eyes of your stuffed toy from the shelve across the room. The second was on your bed. Third, your bathroom. And the fourth was your kitchen. Every room was on view. And in good quality. 

The second monitor in the corner of the screen also had a camera window, only pointed somewhere... You didn't realize it right away, but it was a chair under the table. The camera was mounted under the desk. Probably under yours... You remembered at once how König had come to adjust something on your computer and how he had spent a long time under your desk. 

Explorer was open on the third monitor. The “Princess” folder. In it were the folders "Home," "Work," "From Phone," "From Laptop," "Social". You opened the "Home" folder. Inside: "Spicy" and "By Date". With a trembling hand, you moved the mouse cursor to "Spicy". You opened it. Lots of videos: "With a new toy", "In the bathtub", "In a new collar" and so on. You opened the first video. Footage from a camera pointed at your bed. And you're with your legs spread wide, testing out your new toy. The second one shows you with the same toy, but in the bathtub. On the third, you're back in bed, but this time you're wearing a choker around your neck. 

Your blood runs cold in your veins. How could he sneak into your house and install cameras?! When? What was he gonna do with those videos? 

You're back at the "From Phone" folder. Inside: "From Camera" and "Screen Recording". He had access to all your personal information. You didn't know how, you didn't know when, but he had set up total surveillance on you. He followed you through your phone camera, through your laptop camera, he had access to all your social media accounts, he saw every message you sent, every post you made, every password, every action you took. He methodically sorted your entries by date and topic, clipping any points of interest into separate folders where he could find them quickly. He knew everything about you. He didn't just guess what drink to buy you - he'd seen you buy the exact same one a couple days ago and saw that you liked it. And he didn't guess about the stuffed dinosaur either, he knew you had one. 

You couldn't take it anymore, terror gripped your throat, and on shaky legs you staggered toward the exit. Run. Run as far away as possible was your only thought.

Your back bumped into something large, still, hot. You turned around. It was König. You didn't hear him come back.

“You weren't supposed to see it,” he said surprisingly calmly. And that only made you more afraid.

“What does all this mean?” You asked in a weak voice.

He didn't answer, just took a step toward you. You drew back. When you hit the iron cabinet with your back, you panicked. You can't escape. No one knows where you are. He can do anything to you, and there's nothing you can do. 

“Please don't hurt me. Please, I won't say anything to anyone,” you babbled as he came close to you. He held your waist with one hand and cupped your cheek with the other, his fingers caressing your skin softly. You feel a tear trickle down your cheek, and he catches it with his fingers.

“Now, now, princess, there's no need to cry. I just want to take care of you.”

He turns you around to face the monitors. Holding you by the shoulder with one hand, he takes hold of the mouse with the other and quickly finds the right video folder. The folder is called "Crying". Inside are many files, sorted by date. He clicked on one. It shows you lying on your bed, sobbing, face pressed into a pillow. He cranks the sound up to full, and you hear yourself mumbling pitifully:

“I can't take it anymore... It hurts too much. How much more?!” 

And as you look at yourself curled up on the bed, König kisses you affectionately on the temple and whispers in your ear:

“Do you know how much it hurt me to look at you like that? You were suffering and I couldn't do anything to help you. If I had been there, I would have comforted you. Princess, I can make it so that this” he jabbed his finger at the screen, “will never happen again. М?”

“What are you talking about?” you mumble confusedly.

“I can put you out of your pain and suffering. No work, no chores, no bills. No loneliness. You will never be “too much” for me, none of your thoughts and words will repulse me because I already know about them. Oh, princess, if I could get inside your head and know what you're thinking 24/7... I would. I want to know everything about you, princess.”

“I don't understand,” you whispered pitifully. 

“You don't need to understand. You just need to be mine. Stay here with me. And I'll take care of everything.” 

“And if I don't want to?”

“Then I'll have to take you by force. And I really don't want to do that.”

He turned you to face him again, took your face in his palms gently, gently gathered the moisture from your cheeks with his lips. 

“I can be very gentle, princess. And I want to be that way with you. Don't make me treat you badly, hmm? I'll be your new world, so there won't be any more bad thoughts in your adorable head. Just me.” 

You only cried harder. He pulled you against him, pressing your face against his shoulder. He stroked your head and kissed the top, whispering comforting things to you. 

You were terrified, so scared, so crushed. Someone had been watching you all this time, had seen you in your most vulnerable moments, had seen you sobbing, seeing you fall apart, indulging in gluttony, satisfying yourself. He's seen you naked, dirty, pathetic and crushed. He read all your posts, he saw what posts you liked, what comments you wrote, what stories you made up. The illusion of privacy dissipated. You were only asking yourself one question:

“Why me?”

“Let's call it love at first sight, shall we?”

An answer that only left more questions. You clenched your eyes shut, trying to calm down and think straight. You couldn't resist him physically, and you couldn't run away. Maybe if you played along, he'd relax and you could slip away, call the police...? You'll change your phone, your computer, change the locks or move to another city altogether, change your passport and all your documents, your job, your appearance. You'll escape, you'll save yourself.

The voice in your head hissed mockingly: “Run away? But to where? To loneliness mixed with paranoia? Not a living soul cares about you, you have no friends, no relatives. You spent so many years trying to find one true friend, and how much were you afraid to open up? How many tears did you shed because you didn't want to show your ugly side and at the same time you wanted to be seen? He's already seen everything. He already knows everything. Your dirtiest secrets. And he still wants you all to himself. Despite how ugly and broken you are. How many people do you think would want to take someone like you under their wing? At least he treats you well and wants to take care of you. Isn't that perfect? Isn't that what you dreamed of? Someone obsessed with you, someone who won't let you go no matter what? And now that you're being handed everything you've ever dreamed of on a silver platter, you're scared?! For once in your life, do yourself a favor and just take what you're given!”

It's been a few minutes of your silent embrace. 

“Are you going to be a good girl?” He asked warily. Like he was really afraid you'd say no and he'd have to use force. Like he really didn't want that.

“Yes,” you answered shortly in a lifeless voice.

“Good girl. You're so good. I promise I'll make you the happiest person in the world!” 

He squeezed you tighter, pulling you off the floor, spinning you around the room. He was genuinely happy. And you... You'll learn to be happy with him. He'll take care of you.

Next part | Masterlist

Shaking her head in disapproval, “If you see me go home with any of these drunks, I give you full permission to hit me, no, in fact, I’ll pull up to your apartment every morning with coffee and take you to work for a week if I do,” Shoko shuddered while furrowing her brows only to quickly soften the moment she saw you lightly picking at your thumb – an anxious habit you’ve picked up throughout the years, only but the keenest of eyes being able to notice your anxiety.

“You okay love?” Her voice was sweet as she leaned against the restroom sink.

“Mhm, of course,” you faked a smile, “I guess I’m just a little nervous seeing everyone, you know,” lightly chuckling as you bit your lips. Little was underlying, when the knot in your stomach was building up, making you force down the urge to entirely vomit in the moment. 

“People are thrilled to see you again,” placing her hand on your shoulder, “it’s literally been years for you,” she huffed, pouting as she reminisced over the years she attended alone.  

“well ‘m sure one will be sure thrilled —” her voice suddenly drained from a crowd of people entering the restroom, slightly pushing you towards her, “nevermind come on, let’s go get something to drink,” Shoko muttered as she led you out, gently massaging your tense neck as she encouraged, bringing her lips to your ears, “if anyone bites, I’ll chop their dick off,” Shoko threatened with a flashing smile as she led you to a nearby table.  

It’s only 9:41 — no, 9:42.

College reunions, who looks forward to that? 

There was no particular reason for you to be anxious, it’s been years since. You’ve prepared yourself for this, meditating every single day since you got the notification in your email on a Tuesday evening — an invite to rsvp for a room at the Aman Hotel. 

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so nerve-wracking if you’ve been consistently going out to these every year since they’ve held one. But every year there seems to be a conflict in the schedule that forbade you to go.

One year it was your boss last-minute asking your team to work overtime, when a rookie employee lost all the data when he supposedly fell asleep, accidentally losing months of all your blood, sweat, and tears to make it for the deadline on your next advertising project. 

Poor kid was fired the next day.

The following year, you were determined to go, going as far as walking to the restaurant, when the sudden nausea of socializing plagued your mind. The joyous welcomings and celebrations annoyingly muffled in your ear as you groaned past a familiar voice that seemed to call out your name from a distance. Your feet walking on their own volition through your sleep deprivation. Only to wake up in your bed with countless text messages from your best friend asking what the hell happened. 

No wonder it was so fucking loud that night. 

Another was simple, not your fault this time. Shoko couldn’t make it because of her rounds at the hospital. 

Never in hell were you going to show up alone. 

And the last one, well your taxi got a sudden flat tire. That in itself was a confirmation for you not to go, nor did you have any dying wish to go. Quickly texting your best friend, huffing out a sigh of relief as you pressed send.

&lt;< sorry… can’t make it tonight. I promise, next year!! 

Today, well things seemed to have aligned. No overtime, no flat tires, no sleep deprivation, no nothing.

Maybe it was an excuse? 

Maybe you were subconsciously avoiding it? 

But ironic is it, that life seems to protect you when most fragile, only to push you out into the void when least expected making you feel even more vulnerable, feeling so exposed in such a cruel world. 

Or maybe the universe was waiting for this moment, that despite your consensus or approval, it was determined that you were ready to confront it — well it, being the owner of a pair of brilliant light blue eyes that sparkled like an aqua jewel, shining brighter than when you’ve last seen them clouded in tears as you let go of his trembling hand for the last time, crushing his pure heart as you left him with, “i’m sorry.”

Was that already eight years ago? 

But whether it was the consequence of your selfish choice or a blessing of choosing to be selfless, luck was on your side today…

… well, you hoped at least somewhat on your side.

“My … look who it is,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Turning around, though the shame of suddenly cutting him off enticed your heart as you faced him, you couldn’t help but smile at his familiar face walking over with two drinks in his hand.

Holding the same gentle eye smile, with a lock of his black hair falling down on his left side, donned in a white dress shirt with his sleeves cuffed at the elbows, no tie but buttons loosely opened with a pair of dark slacks and shined dress shoes. Geto Suguru walked over.

“Aren’t you still handsome,” you complimented with a sweet smile.

“Don’t feed into his ego like that,” Shoko chimed as she nudged your arm, “his head is already big enough.”

“Who me?” Exaggerating his response, only to soon level down to the same amiable smile, calm cadence you’ve remembered him to have as he offered you a drink, “I have to take all the compliment I can get, don’t know when you’ll go awol and go missing for another eight years.”

“Funny…” you muttered, rolling your eyes while taking the drink by the stem, “and thank you, Suguru.”

“Where’s mine?” Shoko jabbed while shooting a glare at his nonchalance.

“Not here,” Geto flashed a smile, innocently shrugging. 

“Whatever, I’ll get my own,” shaking her head in disapproval, grumbling while making her way to get a drink, but still making a point to stop in front of the man to warn, “Don’t say anything weird Suguru, I barely got her to come today.”

“Relax, ‘m just trying to catch up with an old friend,” Geto countered, making a point to whisper while smiling at you.

“I won't hurt her, that I promise,” Geto affirmed. 

Your best friend walked off only to turn around for a brief moment as she worriedly looked back at you “Text me for anything okay?” 

“I’ll be fine! Don’t worry,” you reassured.

“And don’t forget what I said, I’ll even cut his,” deadpanning while looking at your male counterpart, “I got no problem doing it, I’m medically certified anyways, there’s nothing that a sharp scalpel can’t fix, ” Shoko stated with an innocent smile while walking off. 

“So,” releasing a sigh as he pushed the strains of his hair back, “how’ve you been?” Geto smiled.

“I’ve been… okay,” you confessed while placing your lips against your glass before taking a sip, “could be better.”

“Thought you were living your life,” Geto teased, his voice laced with sarcasm, “Shoko wouldn’t tell us much about you.”

“I… I told her not to,” you confessed while leaning against your table, the pain of your heels starting to ache up your back. 

“How come? Weren’t we your friends too?” 

“I just didn’t think it was best to keep myself in the circle when I —” biting the inside of your mouth to stuff the suffocating knot forming underneath your lungs.

“ — When you broke up with him?” Geto finished your hesitation.

Nodding yes, you softly whispered, “I thought it was for the best for him.”

“For the best huh?” Geto chuckled, “well I guess you didn’t know him too well then.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as your mouth started to feel dry, “I did it because we weren’t compatible, I would’ve been a stumbling block for him,” you stammered as your voice started to shake, “I- I would’ve halted his growth, and he would’ve hated me in the end if I selfishly held onto him when he was worth so much more than being with me,” you confessed with lips quivering as a tear fell, only to quickly brush it away before Suguru could notice.

But nothing passes with him, he reads right through you. His voice softened, “Was this your insecurity you’ve decided for him or — ” turning his body to face you while his body leaned on his arm against the standing table, “Was this something he actually would’ve struggled with?”

“I can’t change the past Suguru.” You shamefully avoided his gaze, “I still stand by my decision.”

“I don’t doubt that,” shrugging as he exhaled, “I mean, you did avoid him for almost a decade.”

“H-he seems happy,” you let your thoughts slip.

“You think so?” 

“Shoko would tell me about everyone, you, him” you unnoticingly spewed out your thoughts. “Of course not in full detail, but that you’ve established your own studio, and that you’ve finally released those photos.”

“Mhm, that’s correct, would’ve loved to have invited you to the exhibition, it was quite… a moment,” he chuckled while playing with his fingers. 

“That Megumi’s in high school and that he’s gotten in trouble for beating up the school bullies,” lowly laughing as you remembered how cute yet scarily mature he was for his age.

“Nanami hates corporate life, but still listens to what he has to say even if it’s outrageous.” Taking a sip of your drink, the sparkle of the beverage mildly burning your throat, “... and that he’s traveling the world living his life.”

Mumbling under your breath, “he’s even recently gone to Paris and had a night picnic with —”

“You stalked him?” Geto teased as he huffed out a laugh when he caught your shocked expression

“No — I mean, Shoko would tell me,” you stammered.

“Sure, whatever you say, sweetheart," Geto teased, "but just to let you know, he just got back. And from what I know, they haven’t met since he arrived. His plane should’ve landed,” while dramatically looking at his watch, “I don’t know like an hour ago? He’s probably on his way over here,” Geto handsomely winked as he suddenly placed a gentle hold of your waist and brought you near his side.

“You know… he’ll look for you, now knowing that you’re here” Geto whispered into your ear.

“How does he know… I told Shoko to not tell —”

Blinking innocently at you with a smile, while playing with his phone, “can’t avoid the poor guy forever.”

“I’m not avoiding him,” you sighed knowing what Geto had done, “just didn’t have a chance to run into him.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” releasing you with a smile, “ if you’re really sure about where you stand, then don’t run away from him.”

Geto's eyes flash to the entrance doors for a split second and land back on you.

“But would you look at that,” humming as he pointed to his empty glass yet his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure. It was the first in a while that you felt your heart sinking, all the blood in your body rushing out, making you suddenly feel lifeless and queasy.

“Gonna get another glass, you want one?” Suguru suggested.

“I’m okay, but thank you Suguru,” you quickly stated as your heart started to beat faster by the second.

“Sure, just don’t be a stranger again,” Suguru teased as he started to walk off, but your hand immediately reached out to catch his arm to quickly reinforce, “I- I mean it… thank you.”

Knowing your implication, smiling as he received your thanks, “No need, as fucking cringe it is,” chuckling as he shook his head, looking over your shoulder and back at you, “he’s my best friend, of course, I’ll be there for him.”

Letting go of his arm, your hands anxiously balled into a fist as you quickly turned around to avoid him, doing anything to hide from his sight. You felt your breaths becoming increasingly more difficult to inhale, and stagnant as your palms started to sweat. 

“I’m not avoiding him… I’m not avoiding him” you quietly mumbled to yourself, your words contradicting your actions as you walked further away onto the balcony, texting Shoko, 

<< I’ll be outside getting some fresh air (: let me know when you want to leave.  

Closing your phone, as you let the night breeze wash against your face, leaving light chills around your body, you nervously sighed, “It’s been eight years you say…”

— 

Your story was nothing short of the typical — difference in class and status, trying to make things work just for the convenience of love. It wasn’t hard at first to situate yourself into his life, nor was it any difficult for him to become accustomed to yours. 

They say time will change things, circumstances will get better. Be patient with your season, and you’ll be rewarded for your hardwork.

But somethings never change no matter how hard you try to alter the dice. He’s rich and you’re just average.

Money works for him, while you had to take on multiple jobs just to make your next rent at the start of your career. 

He was bound for greatness at a young age, trained by the best professionals and tutored by an exquisite league of mentors. While you had to settle for things, simply dreaming of the what can be. Thus, you worked even harder. You pushed yourself to keep up, to become of the level of who he’s supposed to be, and what he could accomplish. 

When he dozed off in class, you stayed up. You studied, pulled all-nighters, chugged caffeine, and oftentimes had to push back dates with him for simple study sessions — he didn’t complain, said he liked to just sleep with his head rested on your lap while he cuddled into your stomach while you studied. 

“Don’t mind me, I’ll be your personal radiator,” he would chime with a boyish grin on his face, taking off his sunglasses as he stretched his long legs before latching behind you like a koala, “wake me up when you’re done, I’ll drive you home,” Gojo peacefully murmured without forgetting to place a kiss to your shoulder, while you stressed over your next exam. 

With him, even the coldest days always felt warm.

And on the next day, he’ll always take you to class with some soup and hot tea, murmuring about your poor dietary choices and how you often neglect your health to study. But at least he’ll be gentle, and wish you the best on your exam with a light kiss — an innocent kiss that lasts a bit too long, his hand always gracing your body as he reluctantly releases you, brushing off the saliva that linked your lips together — his good luck charm he’ll argue, a little tease of what he’ll reward you with later when you got home for being his good girl. 

Gojo will always try to convince, “Life isn’t always about studying, baby,” stating with a pout, after your fifth time canceling a date he’s planned to instead go on a simple walk outside your flat, “you gotta live life to the fullest! And why stress when you’ve snatched me?”

“Well, I can’t live life to the fullest if I don’t study now, Satoru. And who’s gonna pay for all that ice cream you eat? All the sweets you stock up on?”

“What do you mean?” Deadpanning as he stopped in his tracks, “you have me, what more else do you need? I'm a double threat — I’m rich and handsome.”

“Satoru — I… never mind,” rolling your eyes, as you were hit with his puppy eyes. 

“Just promise,” his tall frame blocking you, “that you’ll always stick with me.”

“I’m not a piece of gum to just stick onto you, Satoru,” pushing him away, only for him to reach out to delicately hold your hand, “You know, if you’re a gum, you’ll be the sweetest one.”

“Yea, why so?”

“Because every time I eat you, you taste so sweet,” he teased with a flirty wink, “if you get what I — ow!” 

Rubbing his forearm that barely hurt, Gojo loved to exaggerate when he was with you. 

For Gojo, things came easily for him, as if the universe highlighted his life as a thousand-year blessing, nothing was out of his reach — that is, nothing but you. 

Shocking to many, he pursued you first. When asked about how you guys met, or what’s the story behind you two, or even if no soul asked… he’ll blabber on with an outrageous story, saying he fell in love the moment he laid his eyes on you, that you were the apple of his eye — an over the top fanfiction of you and him of how he just knew you were the person for him when you stumbled into the library, arms full of books and coffee in the other, and you magically just happened to just bump into him. And if it wasn’t for that encounter, then he would’ve never gotten your number. 

And without your number, he wouldn’t have been able to woo you with his charm, he’ll always add with a wink.

“You can say it’s fate,” he’ll proclaim, “I never went to the library, you know,” as he munched on his icecream with Megumi and Tsumiki savoring theirs, both unbothered by the story he’s told them countless times, “and the one day I chose to follow Suguru because he was simping over someone, I get coffee spilled all over my clothes and meet her? Damn, the heavens just wanted us together.”

All you remember of that day was that your precious coffee went to waste, with your books embarrassingly spread out on the floor, and you were stuck having to dry clean his ridiculously expensive clothes. 

But with him, you experienced all your firsts.

Your first handholding — Satoru confidently took your hand, immediately interlocking his fingers with yours, his palms engulfing yours entirely, “don’t be scared baby, I’m not scared,” flexing his muscles as he proudly smiled,  “I’ll protect you!” as he leads you through the haunted mansion, jolting through every jump scare, absolutely refusing to scream. 

You remember his palms felt particularly clammy that day. 

Your first kiss — on a spring picnic as he laid on your lap, his eyes sparkling a little more than usual as he looked up at you, innocently asking, “can I kiss you?” 

Your first argument. Ignoring him for a whole week, only for your resolve to quickly break when Suguru urgently called you to his house stating that Satoru was deathly ill — dark circles under his eyes, cheeks frail from not eating, wrapped up in his blanket as he dramatically announced his dying wishes while sneaking obvious glances at you. 

Geto’s diagnosis: pure insanity. 

To your first cuddle buddy, to innocent make-out sessions, to wonton looks and lustful touches for more. leading to your first sexual experience, both unknowing and inexperienced as he groaned into your ear in the back of his car one rainy night as you struggled to take his girth.

He was your first taste of goodness — like a forbidden fruit, you increasingly wanted him more. In soul, mind, and body, you etched yourself into him, making the tear even more painful to rip apart. 

Sure, loving him was easy — but loving you, the version who was so lacking compared to him and insecure was hard.

You tried to ignore it, you did your best to brush off the insecurity that came with each day of choosing him. But having the message that you were worth less than he was being constantly blasted to your face — the blatant discrepancies between social classes and the nature of how you both grew up, to the constant side glances you’ll get wondering how someone so normal like you, got with such a high net worth — gradually, it all made you dissociate from him. 

So you worked even harder. You stayed up longer than anyone else just to get that better grade. You worked that extra shift just to prove that you were capable. You doused yourself in knowledge, yet tried to stay humble to be seemingly perfect… but in that, you unknowingly pushed him further away, losing parts of yourself while at it. 

And your final straw? It was a text message you accidentally read on his phone while he silently napped, cutely dozing off as you massaged his scalp.

From: Mom.

>> Remember the girl I talked to you about? Nitori-chan’s family requested that we set up a date for you two. The faster the better, no need for our families to meet, it’s all settled. 

To: Minako.

<< Let’s meet. When are you free, Minako? 

From: Minako.

>> Whenever! I can meet now!

>> Is this about our potential engagement?

To Minako.

<< Yea, let's meet tonight to talk about it.

You remembered, that night you couldn't reach him.

The final trigger that blew it over. The rambling of your thoughts paralyzes you from thinking rationally.

You didn’t need to search up who she was. Nitori Minako, the youngest daughter of Japan’s leading technology company that rivaled to that of America’s fruit. A girl that was a year younger than you — smart, adamantly cute, cunning and rich — always following him around a bit too closely for your liking, preaching about how “Gojo-san promised he’ll marry me when we were young! Isn’t that so cute?”

how long was this going on for? 

Has he always been going on secret dates like this? Was he always just willing to let it slide when you rejected his dates because he had other options?

Was he leading you on this whole time before he’ll leave you for what he rightfully deserved? 

Was all of this a lie? All of what he said?

The pinnacle of your sanity breaking as your thoughts became corrosive and brittle the more you dove deeper into the pitfalls of your insecurities — of course what people said was right, there was no way someone like him can settle for any less.

... Ultimately, everything led to you quietly blurting out as he rambled about his day. 

Playing with your hand, smiling like a loser as he intertwined your smaller fingers with his, “Geez, there was this jeweler that I wanted to take you to, but dammit, the store closed early today. Maybe we can go — ”

“Let’s break up,” you suddenly announced, looking straight ahead.

The room suddenly felt quiet, so quiet that the thumping of your heart felt like loud sirens blaring next to your eardrum, and your body felt numb. 

After a few seconds, Satoru stammered, “w-what?”

Sighing as you closed your eyes, “I said, let’s break up, we aren’t — ” you reiterated.

“I heard you the first time,” Gojo hissed, still playing with your fingers but his grip now harsher, “just wanted to make sure you weren’t bullshitting right now.”

“I’m not joking, Satoru,” your voice stripped of any emotion, “we aren’t good for eachother.”

“Says who?” the man challenged. 

“It’s something that’s been on my mind,” you responded back while trying to pull back your hand, “l-let go, Satoru, it hurts…”

“Is it because of the text?” Gojo refused to let go, even more so gripping even harder, “Fuck... I'm sorry I should've explained earlier," his voice pleading for you to listen.

"I swear nothing happened, and nothing will ever happen, b-baby look at me,” your boyfriend’s — now, ex-boyfriend's — voice elevating and shaking. 

“Gojo,” softly pausing after his name, “let’s end it when things aren’t so bad… I can’t have you hating me more when we have no other choice but to break up,” finally pushing his grip off, “it’s inevitable, we’ve been walking towards a destined finish line from the beginning, let’s just call it quits a little earlier.”

“no... you can't do this, you can't do this to me,” he vulnerably uttered, his body noticeably trembling as a tear dropped onto the back of your hand as he reached over to touch you, hoping it'll mend whatever hatred you had towards him, “you.. we promised,” his voice shaking.

“I’m sorry Gojo,” you dodged his grasp, “guess promises are only good if you can keep them, and I can’t.”

Days of him begging at the forefront of your door, crying as he asked for an explanation, his missed texts and calls that would go straight to voicemail, to Suguru stepping in to ask what the hell was going on… all leading you to cut off every aspect of Gojo Satoru out of your life, except Shoko.

After two years of dating, at the ripe age of 20, you experienced your first heartbreak with Gojo Satoru, marking the end of the final chapter of your love story with him. 

To you, he’ll be the greatest warmth you’ll ever experience. 

To him, you’ll be the heartless bitch that left him cold.

—-

“Hmm,” looking at your empty notifications, “guess she’s a little busy right now…” you hummed. Despite your outwardly calm demeanor and the stillness of the serene summer night, juxtaposed was your mind with wandering thoughts that wrecked havoc in your head. 

Shoko would update you occasionally about him, not going too far into details. You knew he was successful in his craft, excelling in it as he ranked 11th in Forbes 30 under 30 list, losing the tenth spot barely to a Zenin. It would be a lie if you weren’t curious about him, your mind wandering and weak during the quietest of nights, making a burner account to stalk his socials, only to immediately regret the moment you see photos and stories that presumably show that he’s in a relationship — with a gorgeous one in fact.

You’ve briefly heard of his dating history, hearing it from Shoko directly, as it mindlessly slipped through her tongue as she complained that he’s broken up with another girl. 

Throughout the years, you’ve concluded maybe this was your punishment for leaving him. Damnation to feel stuck in the same perpetual regret of hurting his heart, of choosing to look at your fears instead of maybe trusting in him. 

But, at least he looked happy. and you clung onto that reserve.

Maybe it was for the best that things happened this way  —

Your ears perked up as you heard the tapping of shoes coming towards you, your stomach suddenly dropping to the floor. 

“Were you planning on avoiding me the whole night?” 

You were sure, there was no denying that was his voice. 

Yes, it was a bit deeper from when you last heard it. The decibel of his voice is now infused with power and confidence, yet still with the underlying tone of softness from what you remembered. 

“Ah, sorry… how rude of me,” you mumbled, the pounding of your heart beating through your ribcage. You quickly placed an arm over your chest, a hand over your heart, doing anything to muffle the harsh pulsing, terrified that he was going to hear, “it’s been a while Gojo,” you offered him a light smile, “I’m sorry, but if you’ll excuse me Ieiri is waiting for me,” you tried excusing yourself only to be met with his stance unchanging, unmoving. 

You felt his eyes pierce into your skull, “Gojo?… ah that’s right,” his voice guarded as he looked over in another direction, his face pointing specifically elsewhere, the moonlight highlighting his perfect features.

“I think she’s pretty busy, don’t you think?” he shrugged.

Dammit she was your ride home. Guess coffee is on her for the next week. 

“Oh sorry,” you muttered under your breath.

Grinning as he licked his lips, “You’re awfully saying sorry a lot over nothing,” Gojo chuckled, “guess old habits die hard,” his last words spewed with a hint of bitterness as he clenched his jaws. 

Only to relax seconds later, placing his drink on the railing, softly grunting as he pulled off his jacket, and placed it over your shoulders, “It’s cold, don’t want you getting sick now,” the smell of his cologne filled up your lungs, hypnotizing your senses — a bit strong but nonetheless intoxicating.

You couldn’t help but feel guilty for feeling a sense of security from the weight of his heated jacket, and in response, you started to immediately pick at your thumbs. 

“It’s okay!” You tried to object, trying to take it off only to be met with a stern yet gentleness of his voice, his large hand stopping you, now calloused and thick yet the warmth of his palm brushing against your smaller one felt nostalgic and sinful, as your eyes immediately noticed a gold sparkle on his ring finger, “it’s fine. my body runs hot, remember?” 

“T-thank you,” you muttered, the harsh beatings of your heart quickly making your cheeks feel hot. 

A ring? you wondered.  

“So, what made you come today?” Gojo huffed as he looked off into the distance.

“Had no excuse not to come.”

“I see,” his voice deep, taking the last swig of his drink, deeply inhaling to release a long breath, “It’s good to see you though.”

“Yea, me too,” you quietly responded, the awkwardness of the conversation eating at your bones, the tightness of your stomach knotting increasingly more.

Laughing as he turned around, his long legs crossed, showing a bit of his socks peeking out of his slacks as his dress shoes reflected the moon's shine. Surely, they were expensive, probably equaled to a month of your rent on his feet. With his arms crossing his chest, leaning against the railing, the quiet winds brushing against his soft hair, lightly masking his cerulean eyes as he faced you, “Liar, you were always good at that.”

Taking you off guard, your eyes immediately connecting with his, your breath stopping as if a sudden load was pushed onto your chest, you felt a wave of sadness rush over you as you ventured into his empty eyes. 

Since when did he have that ring? 

Did he find someone at Paris? Shoko told me — no, there’s no way he found someone so soon.

Or maybe he’s trying to settle down —

“Are you happy?” His question brought you back into reality.

“What?” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve asked a hard question,” he responded, his voice now harsh and impatient, “I asked if you were happy.”

Your finger pricks at your thumb, “I guess so…”

Rolling his tongue against his teeth, his finger playing with his ring.   

Taking no regard for catering to your comfort, he jeered, “Why’d you do it?”

“What are you talking —” you stammered.

“You know damn well what I’m referring to,” Gojo spat. 

“Excuse me,” You muttered, your eyes refusing to disconnect despite your whole body fighting against it.

“I- I got to go, Ieiri is waiting —”

“No, you already used that excuse,” pulling you in by your wrist, immediately caging you in between his arms, with you now leaning against the railing, your eyes level to his broad chest — has he always been this big?

“Answer me, at least you can have the courtesy of honestly telling me why you left me like that eight years ago.”

“I don't remember,” you stated with eyes threatening to spill.

“Liar,” his body leaning down, the hurt in eyes even more apparent than before, “you’re a fucking liar,” Gojo spewed with no resolve to withhold a solid tear from falling, his face now dangerously close — lips even more threatening to touch.

All you wanted to do was say sorry, to cup his face and kiss his tears, to say it was a mistake that you’ve never intended to let him go — you selfishly tortured him by continuously keeping him in your heart without giving him a chance to prove you wrong. 

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could respond.

“Did you not trust me?” Hurt was apparent in his voice, “Was I that untrustworthy for you to just leave like that and just disappear for eight years?”

“No, no… it’s not like that,” you tried comforting, unknowingly placing your hands on his chest, “it was never like that.”

"then tell me why," he forced out through gritted teeth while furrowing his brows.

"I just thought it was for the best," you quietly whispered.

"you thought it would be for the best?" Gojo scoffed, "And how the hell did you come to a conclusion to just leave like that?"

" 'm sorry, Gojo... I - I truly am," you pleaded while clenching his shirt.

"You must've really enjoyed watching me beg huh," Gojo challenged, "absolutely thrived knowing this was all for my own good, right?" Gojo spat out his anger.

"It wasn't like that, i'm so sorry, I was hurting —"

“Stop fucking apologizing! you don't get to do that," His voice shattered the serene night. Chest heaving as he clenched onto the stone railing, "I didn’t go through shit these past eight years just to hear your selfish sorry's,” he stated with gritted teeth, as he threateningly moved even closer, “d-did you even love me?” 

“Yes, of course!” You immediately cupped his face, finally letting go of the years you craved his touch, your heart shattering as you felt him melt into your wicked hands.

“Then kiss me,” he suddenly whispered, the slight scent of alcohol mixed in with cologne altering your judgment.

“Y-your drunk, Gojo,” you pleaded, immediately letting go of his face as you tried to push him off.

His voice elevated, "Why not?" Gojo growled, "Like you said, it's not like you left because you didn't love me. Or are you lying about that too?"

“don’t make this hard, we — I can’t do this with you anymore,” guilt running through your veins as the image of his ring blared loudly in your head.

You couldn’t do this to another girl, he wasn’t yours anymore… 

“stop the bullshit,” Gojo growled before his lips slammed into yours, his large hands cupping your face, leaving you no room to run away. his tongue forced its way into your mouth, teeth painfully clashing yet you didn’t mind. because against your resolve, your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to taste the sweetness of his saliva and feel the warmth of his tongue.

The groan of his voice vibrated against your lips, as his clothed hip bucked into your pelvis, his lips trailing down from yours to your neck, tongue sloppily trailing down with it as his hands wandered down to hold your hips.

“Tell me you missed me,” he moaned out as you gripped the ends of his hair,  his tongue teasing down your sweet spots, pecking kisses as he inhaled your scent.

“Say you loved me, I don't care anymore if it’s a lie,” your ex now pleaded, his hot breath heating your cheeks.

“… I love you,” you confessed.

Lowly laughing like a maniac, staring deep into your wanting eyes, the man whispered back, “aren't you fucking heartless.”

...

You don’t recall how you made it into the hotel room. In a moment your lips crashed with his on the balcony, and only a second later you found yourself with his large hand securely wrapped around yours, silently waiting for the elevator to bing on the twentieth floor as your ex-boyfriend led you into his hotel room.

Now, currently, you’re pressed against the wall, shoes thrown aside groaning with your hands tangled in his soft hair, as he hurriedly stripped you out of your dress, lips hungrily moving against each other as he growled into the kiss.

Though its been years, his touch never faltered from remembering your body — immediately tracing over your sweet spots that he’s located in your early twenties, now with more experience and strength he dove deeper in.

“Fuck, missed these beauties,” he groaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumb playing with your hardened nipples as he quickly released the back strap of your bra, promptly latching his lips onto your swollen ones again right before you released a moan.

Your body had a mind of its own. Fallen into sin, your hands unbuttoned his shirt, quickly revealing his toned, muscular build as your hands ran against his pecs. You felt his stomach flex as you started to unbuckle his belt and zip down his pants, his lips hungrily chasing after yours as he caressed your body, hands slipping down further into your inner thigh, his index starting to play with your swollen clit — his fingers have always been so pretty, especially with his ring

“G-gojo stop!” Your eyes immediately shoot open.

“What,” annoyed, the man hissed, looking into your eyes with his pupils dilated, hair absolutely disheveled, until moments later his lips are impatiently back onto yours again. 

“We.. we can’t,” you cried out as you melted in his touch, “y-your ring,” you gasped out, suffocating as he stripped you of oxygen.

“Ring?” he stopped for a brief moment, chuckling as he brought up his finger, “you worried about this?” he teased.

Intoxicated in his touch, you were willing to throw away your pride and dignity just for one night — one night can’t hurt, right? So you take the ounce of courage you had left, placing a tender kiss on his lips as a sign of surrender as you gently cupped his face, “take off your ring,” you whispered as you guilty looked away.

Chasing after your kiss, pushing you further into the room as you yelped at his force, your arms entangled around his neck and fingers around his hair as you tried to stabilize yourself, “I promise you it’s nothing, sweetheart,” he coaxed with his sharp canines flashing through his wickedly handsome smile. 

And running his lips against your chest, leaving small denture marks on your skin that forced moans out of you, with his pants now pooled at his ankles before shimming them off, his cock fully erect, unapologetically twitching in his briefs.

“For you, I guess,” Gojo hummed as he watched the thin line of spit that connected you both dissipate away, existing as a sign of proof of the situationship he currently had with you. 

Taking his ring off, he set it down near the bedside table, "there it's gone."

At least for this night, he was yours. 

You’ll repent for your sins, and receive any punishment the gods had to give you tomorrow, but today, you chose him.

And right now, you also chose to kneel in between his thighs, hooking your finger under his waistband to pull his briefs off. Satoru immediately lifted his hips to help you while releasing a sultry groan as he felt the cold air elope his sensitive tip. 

Was he always this thick? You remembered his cock being pretty, but also what the fuck were those two veins running down his shaft? And was he always this… groomed? 

“Are you just gonna stare at it… or do I need to use your mouth to get some action?” Satoru impatiently asked with his cock twitching, his finger brushing against your heated cheeks as he palmed his member.

“It’s just been awhile,” you murmured, licking your lips before you opened your mouth to have him enter.

“Fuck, " Satoru shuddered as the base of your tongue brushed against his frenulum.

"i must be dreaming,” Gojo murmured under his breath, your head rising up as you released his cock with pop! With your hot tongue swirling against his head, there was no chance for Satoru to stay strong. and you enjoyed every second of seeing him slowly unravel in your power.

“j-just like that,” he ordered while placing his hand on top of your head, guiding your momentum. 

His precum tasted salty but pleasant. Hell, he wasn’t even close to the other men you’ve been with, incomparable starting with the size of their dicks to his.

Hallowing your cheeks and expanding your throat to take in his shaft, with your hands gently playing with his balls, you felt his cock hit the back of your throat the moment you saw his head fling backwards, gasping as he pushed down his spit down his dry throat.

“You like that?” Gojo hissed as he bucked his hips into your warm crevice, “you missed my cock, angel?”

You honestly agreed, tears staining your vision with his length stuffed into your orifice, only to get a spiteful laugh in return, “well, guess that makes two of us,” he huffed while crowning over your body, pushing himself deeper into you, his stomach hitching as he groaned out your name.  

“Fuck this shit,” he moaned, as he urgently pulled himself out of your mouth, sacrificing his impeding release for abstinence. 

“You’re driving me crazy,” he gasped when your thumbs swirled around his pulsing head, “you always do,” he purred as he nibbled on your lower lip, promptly pulling you onto his lap, one hand straddling your waist while the other mounded your ass.

And looking up at you, with his blue eyes now darkened in full blown lust, his hot breath sending chills down your spine, “tell me what you want? I’ll give you anything.”

“Y-you,” you shamefully confessed, gasping as his cock grazed against your sensitive folds, your fingers gripping his shoulders as you started to grind against his length, “I want you inside me again, Satoru” you whispered into his ear, lightly moaning out his name.

“Shit,” Satoru croaked, pulling himself down as he gently released you to lay on the bed, “I dont have a condom,” he confessed as he gently kissed your cheeks, “ you gonna be okay without it?” he asked.

“Mhm, j-just hurry… please,” you murmured. 

“Good girl, now come here,” he coaxed as he placed a soft pillow under your head. 

Taking a brief moment to observe your face, reading any sign of forced emotion that you might try to hide, only to ease himself into the kiss when he feels you impatiently desiring his touch, “relax, baby,” he cooed as his kisses traveled southward.

Placing each delicate kiss on your body as his soft hair trailed behind, lightly tickling you as your thighs gently caged his waists into you, “you know they wanted me to thank you,” Gojo breathed out as he split your thighs open, settling himself in between your legs.

“W-who?” you whimpered as his calloused hands massaged your muscles, his soft lips easing out the tension boiling in your core while your hands immediately went straight to grip his hair.

Lips drawing closer, closer and closer until his breath knocked against the frame of your dripping cunt.

“God you’re so fucking wet,” blowing air onto your sensitive nerves, looking up to watch your body shiver at his power as he slid his finger down your folds, pushing in one finger, two, and eventually three into your tight hole as he watched you stretch, your viscous juice soon dripping down his forearm.

“They wanted me to thank you for how good I eat pussy now,” Gojo smirked before he took a swipe of his tongue against your womanhood, spreading out your cunt as he purposefully flicked his tongue against your clit, lightly sucking on the bud thereafter.

… 

How many times as it been, you wondered? More than once or twice, maybe four… five — you moaned out when you felt your legs hitching up to his shoulders, his cock hitting just at the right spots he remembered from years ago. 

“Angel,” Gojo huffed as sweat dripped down his temple, grunting as he felt your tight walls fluttering against his length at the call of his sweet pet name, “you have that much leisure to be thinking about something else when I’m fucking you?” 

Kissing your ankles, his pelvis showing you no mercy as his wet skin slapped against your ass, the sound and sultry smell of hot sex filtrating your room, “still so fucking tight,” Satoru grunted as he pushed his body onto you, your legs hooking against his shoulders, his strong arms holding you from under.

“G-gojo!” you rasped out, barely audible and inable to breathe from his heavy weight and humidity of the room, “it’s too deep! Slow down!”

Growling into your ear, his teeth nibbling against your earlobe, his hot breath stinging your face as he scoffed at your choice to call him so mundanely.

“you gonna be so impersonable,” his thrust going deeper, harder into you, “when I’m so deepily inside you?”

“Ngh,” gasping, “it’s too much,” you sobbed with his face planted into your neck, and his ass clenching with every push he drove into your gushy walls that still wrapped so perfectly around his — just like how he’s last felt you around him, just like how he’s molded your insides just for himself.

“You let anyone else fuck you?” He suddenly hissed, panting as he tried to catch his breath, the sweat on his back making it difficult for you to hold onto him, “you let anyone else see this side of you?”

“It’s too much —” you pleaded, avoiding his question.

“Answer me,” he lowly ordered.

Unable to withstand his power, absolutely willing to fold for him and his desires, you fastidiously nodded, “only a couple,” you shyly confessed.

"how many," he growled, disappointed in your answer, "how many fucked this."

"o-one or two, ngh I-I don't remember," you panted.

“One or two, you say,” he cooed as he pulsed his cock swiftly into you in rhythmic motions, satisfied seeing his length disappear inside you. his pace driving you to the brink of insanity as your lower belly started to fire up again as he knowingly pressed his palm down on your stomach.

“Then I gotta fuck you twice more to force out all memory you have of those stupid fucks,” grunting as he cupped your face to look at him, lips swollen with his skin marked by your nails, hips unapologetically thrusting into you as he watched you unravel in his lead, “because this pussy’s always been mine.”

Seven.

He’s definitely made you cum seven times. you remembered the count just before he groaned out your name, his thrusts sloppy and strained, gasping as he pulled you tighter into his embrace, face caved into your neck as he finally released his thick loads into your abused walls, sobbing out cursed moans as you held him, expending out every last ounce of energy you had for him in mere four words,

“I’ve always loved you,” you whispered before completely passing out. 

You failed to notice a tear fall from his eyes drop to your face. He hoped that it’ll stain you, wished it would reach all the way through to your heart to burn you. But he couldn't, so instead he carefully wiped it away as he gently kissed your face — inch by inch of your canvas before he chose to face you again.

“you’re so heartless,” Gojo chuckled as he pulled you in for a tight hug, straight into his chest as he laid beside you, refusing to pull out and have his cum spill onto the sheets — a feat he’s never dared to do with anyone else, he’s always fucked protected.

“what am I going to do with you," he breathed out.

"even with all this time, I’m still so weak for you,” he quietly confessed, reaching over to the side, reaching for his ring to put on the empty finger, before he too fell into the abyss of another dimension with you in his arms. 

—-

Lowly groaning as you opened your eyes, your body felt oddly heavy and aching, but yet warm and safe despite feeling on the absolutely verge of possibly snapping in half and breaking with any force.

Blinking a couple times before you started to register the room, you felt a slight huff next to your ear and the tightening around your waist as your back leaned against something hard.

Gojo Satoru, in all of his glory, was sleeping so soundly next you.

Carefully turning around to face him, you observed his features as you ran your fingers against his skin.

His lashes were still so long and soft, you giggled when Gojo twitched his nose at your touch.

His cheeks were still so smooth, without a spec of a blemish, but you can see the little bags under his eyes and the small creases on his skin. he’s probably tired from traveling.

Your finger travels down to his chiseled jaw, and defined collar bones, examining the light scratch marks on his pale skin, and the bruising of his nipple — wait… his lips are chapped and swollen, and his cock… oh god, his cock was brushing against your stomach — hard and pulsing. 

Immediately gasping, you felt the blood in your body drain at the revelation that you’ve fucked your ex — no, you fucked your ex of eight years, that you were still crazily hung up over that most likely had a girlfriend waiting for him to respond back to.  

Before you could think, your adrenaline pressed forward to act before your mind, immediately unlocking his hands from your naked waists, standing up too quickly only to stumble from your trembling legs. You felt something drip down your thighs — white viscous slowly running down your legs, your face heating up at the memory of last night. 

“I- I need to leave,” you whispered, quickly gathering your discarded clothes and undergarments as you rushed to the restroom, forcing down your whimpers as your sensitive cunt brushed against your thighs with every step you took.

“I can’t be here, t-this was a mistake,” you stammered while putting on your dress, quickly stuffing your used panties into your purse.

You looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter because you needed to get the hell out of there before he woke up, but somehow your feet didn’t move in the direction you wanted them to — out the door — but instead towards him unknowingly sleeping.

And quietly sitting against the edge of the bed, carefully pushing away the edges of his bangs that covered his handsome face, you decided to take a minute to absorb the last images of what you’ll have of him. And there you decided to let a tear or two drop from your eyes as you said your last goodbyes, gently kissing his lips before you made your way out the door, whispering, once again,

“I’m sorry…”

—- 

It’s been close to an hour since your walk of shame out the door. Since then you quickly checked out of your room and made your way out of the hotel. 

You immediately called for a taxi to get home, groaning as you were hit with the realities of your mistakes last night.

Treading up the stairs your legs quivered with every move. It's been a while since you've been fucked that hard, nor even had a partner that lasted so long.

You needed to text Shoko, you prayed that she didn’t blow through your notifications when you suddenly went missing last night. Sighing, you absentmindedly tried to find your phone in your bag as you punched in your door keys.

You started to think, maybe the whole fucking universe was now against you, for your sins, because your phone wasn’t in your purse.

You tried to retrace your steps to where you’d last used it as you made yourself over to your bed, stripping off your clothes as you walked over to the shower.

And to your last memory, you texted Ieiri out in the balcony… and then,

“Shit,” you hissed, remembering how your bag was tossed to the side when you were being feverishly stripped of your clothes, “it’s probably under his bed or something.”

“I hope no one calls… or tries to contact me until he leaves his room,” you groaned as the hot water massaged your tense shoulders while your fingers ran down your body.

Washing every crevice as you also tried to erase away the memory you had with him, you forced yourself to retract your tears. This was your punishment you repeated, this was the outcome of your selfishness. You lathered yourself in soap, trying to scrub away the pent-up guilt until you noticed something flash under the light.

You never wore your jewelry into the shower, you’ve always had a habit to take them off to not tarnish. 

But there was a golden ring, a ring that fits a little loosely on your promise finger.

Unable to understand why, all that circled through your mind was to go back.

Quickly washing off, throwing on any pair of clothes before running to your door, you could feel your anxious heart beating loudly in your chest as your ears started to feel plugged from the tension. And just when you’re about to open your door, you hear a buzz that silenced every chaos around you.

Looking through the peep hole, you felt faint, your heart entirely about to burst — is this reality or am i still dreaming?

“It’s me,” you heard his calm voice.

Your hands trembled as you slowly opened up the door, your eyes taking a moment to quickly scan his body — donning the same clothes as yesterday with the top buttons of his white shirt undone and ends stuffed into his slacks, his hair lightly messy and eyes a little sunken.

“How’d you get here?” you gasped with your ringed hand clenched, hidden behind your back, while the other pricked at your thumb.

“You left your phone in my room, and I found it because Ieiri was blowing up your phone," Satoru calmly stated as he handed over your phone, "so I asked where you lived to drop it off.”

“She didn’t say anything?” you warily asked

“Well, she did ask about us."

“And… did she threaten you or anything?”

“No, why would she? But,” stretching out his arms as he released groan, “I told her we fucked,” he boyishly smiled. 

Afraid to confront your messy rendezvous with him, you nervously bit your lips, and you avoided his gaze. Noticing your tendencies, you felt his hand cup your face to meet his while his thumb gently soothed your aching lip, "hey," he whispered, "don't do that."

And stepping closer to you, the mild fragrance of his shampoo dancing in your nostrils, “Did you see it?” he asked.

“Mhm,” you acknowledged, “I saw it just now while showering,” you looked into his eyes to seek an answer, tears starting to cloud your vision.

“You know, I’m not the same anymore,” he confessed, “I have power, I’m strong, and I’m able to do things now,” pressing a kiss onto your forehead, “but the only thing that stayed the same about me," chuckling as he shook his head — as if he couldn't even believe it himself.

"is that I didn’t change my number since we’ve broken up,” he stated before taking a step into your apartment, the click of his shoes hitting the tile floor echoing throughout the hallway, “I just hoped maybe one day you’ll call.”

"why?" you honestly questioned, unable to understand why he would choose to do that.

"I don't know," Satoru shrugged while pulling away, "guess I really tried to subconsciously manifest the we were fated to be bullshit that I preached."

“But that girl,” you quietly muttered while you unknowingly pouted when you saw his arms cross against his chest, the tightness of his sleeves about to burst from his muscles bulging.

“Girl… what girl?” Your comment took him aback.

“The one you were in Paris with,” your face feeling hot, embarrassed that you outed yourself for stalking him.

“You stalking me?” He chuckled while leaning against the wall, "it's not what you think," Gojo sighed as he pushed back his hair, "that girl, it was Suguru.”

Raising an eyebrow as he examined your expression, sighing as he saw the unbelief in your eyes, “Here look,” he commented while pulling out his phone to show you pictures, “we went for his art exhibition or some shit because his girl couldn’t make it with him.”

“B-but you came late to the reunion.”

“Yea, because I wasn't going to pull up looking mid when I needed to make you regret ever dumping me,” he joked while pinching your cheeks, "I didn't have plans on attending until that jerk sent me a photo of you," he shamelessly confessed.

“You’re stupid,” you grasped his hand to check his finger — ringless.

“But it was worth it, no? Got you to indirectly confess,” emphasizing his last few words, “that maybe you still love me."

"Whatever," you mumbled, "I said I loved you."

"fine by me," Satoru accepted, " but the fact is that you still think I’m hot, no? Or maybe you just missed my cock? ”

“You’re crazy,” you stated while wiping your tears.

“Yea, I know,” his gaze softens as he sees you playing with his fingers, your small ones wrapped around his.

“and this ring is too big for me,” you cried as you melted in his touch, his right thumb gently rubbing against your cheeks.

“That too, I know,” he smiled stepping closer into your house, and slowly closing the door behind him, “we’ll get another one together soon, only if you'll let me.”

"I'd like that," you whispered.

“I just couldn’t get it for us when you heartlessly broke up with me eight years ago," Satoru confessed while brushing the tip of his nose against yours.

“I’m so sorry Satoru,” you snuggled your face into his strong chest, his arms tightly wrapped around you, cooing as he steadied your breaths, “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay.”

“I’ve hurt you, I’m the one that caused all this,” you heaved as he pressed light kisses all over your face.

“Through everything,” kissing your swollen eyes, taking his time to savor your touch as his lips traveled their way back to its home, briefly kissing your ringed finger as he looked into your eyes. 

And sealing his final destination, he whispered before locking his lips with yours once more,

“I’ll always find you even if you run away because you’ll always be mine.”

author's comment: sheesh, I didn't expect this to get this long... but here it is! I wanted to write the typical exes-to-lovers trope, but I was stuck on the quote with Satoru teasing how his past partners wanted to thank the reader for teaching him how to eat pussy... and here we are over 9k words later.... oh wells

again, i hope you enjoyed it!!

And he tilts his head, narrows his eyes as if deliberating what to make of you. The man says, not unkindly, "Never mind, sorry to bother."

The interaction is succinct, brief as you lower your chin and close your apartment door behind you.

To your surprise, it's not the last you see of him. Your new neighbor appears to be quite the early bird.

Often, you find yourself in the same elevator as him when you return from work, and he from using the gym; he's only beginning his day as you return from yours. You see him in passing, as well, scarcely acknowledging one another.

You have no reason to speak to him again until a month has passed since his moving in and you're readying to leave the apartment for work. And, strangely, you can hear another person talking just outside.

"Hurry up, Omi! Everyone's waiting downstairs," says the unfamiliar person.

Omi? you wonder. Is that his name? A nickname, maybe? After all, you had never asked for it.

You look out from the peephole to see the man—an odd combination of silver and black hair, done up neatly, wearing a fitted suit—knocking on your neighbor's door impatiently. Though, for as much as you would prefer to wait until the pair left, there simply wasn't time.

Taking your purse, placing your coat on, you flip the lock and exit your apartment. The man turns immediately, his incessant knocking slowed to poise his fist above the wooden door as he looks to you.

"Evening," he smiles, "you wouldn't happen to know if the guy who lives here has left or not, would you?" He has bright eyes with his primed posture, a confident line to his shoulders as if he could anticipate the world.

You make to respond when your neighbor opens his own door then, swatting the other man's hand away. "Can you not wait a single minute?" he asks. There's a slight shift in his expression when he meets your wary eye.

The other man flits his attention between the two of you, a quick maneuver, before he says, "Is this the neighbor you've been ta—?" His words suddenly bleed into a pained exhale.

Your neighbor steps aside; he doesn't wear a mask tonight. "I hope he wasn't being a nuisance," he says by way of greeting.

"No, he wasn't." You adjust your coat, shaking your head gently.

He's...quite handsome.

The other man steps forward, offering out a hand as he recovers. "I'm Bokuto, I'm a teammate of his." His smile is large, pressing in to mold dimples at his cheeks.

You take his hand, introduce yourself, before you ask, "You said 'teammate'?" And, in that moment, your neighbor looked as if he might groan. Perhaps, you should've kept on your way. "Actually," you give a dismissive gesture, "it's alright, I need to get going."

And as you walk, so does Bokuto, your neighbor falling behind reluctantly. You almost want to laugh at how you've held more conversation with this man than you have with someone who only lives across the way; you continue down the hallway, listening as Bokuto speaks idly.

"Where're you headed tonight?" The question is sudden from him.

"Work," you say, simply. "And you?" Because both are dressed in seemingly expensive clothing, tailored for their bodies, chosen for their complexions.

It's your neighbor who answers, not Bokuto. "A work function," he supplies evenly.

You peer up and over your shoulder, humming shortly as you acknowledge him. He doesn't meet your eye, fussing instead with the watch on his wrist.

Bokuto takes up the conversation again, eager as he tells you, "Yeah, we play volleyball for the Black Jackals. Tonight is just a formal event, but there's gonna be a game next week—"

His rambling extends further and further until you reach the elevators.

"It was nice meeting you, Bokuto," you eventually say, needing to cut the tail of his sentence. "I hope you both have fun at your event."

"You're not taking the elevator?"

You offer a polite expression. "No, I'll take the stairs. I need to get a workout in sometime today anyway." A lie; you didn't enjoy the prospect of being alone with two large men in a confined space.

Bokuto says, immediately, "Oh! You should ask Omi to help you with that, I'm sure he'd be more than happy to."

"What?" You blink, flushing slightly. The elevator pings, indicating that the doors would soon open.

Your neighbor comes to stand beside Bokuto, placing a hand on his shoulder to begin guiding him away. "Have a good night," he says to you, easing the conversation to a close.

"Right...you too." And you watch as he ushers the other into the awaiting elevator. Had there been a blush to his cheeks when he said those parting words?

You step away toward the stairs.

———

It's dawn when you lie in bed, the dark curtains drawn tightly in your apartment. You're on your phone, thumb hovering over the search bar where 'Black Jackals volleyball' is already typed. You hit enter.

A conglomeration of websites and articles appear: stores selling merchandise, recorded interviews, season highlights, scores, rankings, and, of course, the players themselves.

You rifle through the names and corresponding photos. Then you see that dark, curled hair, with those even deeper eyes.

'Sakusa Kiyoomi,' it states. His picture is a simple headshot; there's no smile, no angle his head tilts naturally towards. The remaining photographs from affiliated websites consist of paid advertisements, photo campaigns, and a few amateur pictures from tabloids.

"Huh," you murmur, only to yourself.

Rivington had its fair share of taverns and inns sprawled across its busy and lively streets. It was surely a welcome change from the grim and daunting sense of dread that loomed over you when travelling across the shadowlands. 

As such, the group had split to indulge in some brief moments of well deserved and welcome repose before finally reaching Baldur’s Gate.

Astarion sat across from you, subtlety eyeing his surroundings as you happily sipped your apple juice. 

The sun had yet to reach its peak but the tavern was already crawling with drunkards and unpleasant crowds. 

“We shouldn’t linger.” Astarion mused with arms crossed.

You nodded. “I’m nearly done.”

As much as you wished to forget about the troubling matters that haunted you, it was evident that your presence was earning some unwanted curious stares from a few onlookers. 

He suddenly reached for the pouch at his hip, withdrawing a piece of fabric before extending his hand to you.

“Here.”

You took it in your hand, briefly admiring its silky texture of the handkerchief as shades of teal and green swirled together in mesmerising patterns.

Then your fingers found golden letters sewn along one corner. 

Your name.

Your heart was clenched tight as you traced each letter in absolute awe.

“Astarion, this is…”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, darling. You’re often covered in blood and sweat and Gods know what other fluids,” he said with a curt smile. “I figured you might as well look stylish whilst wiping that pretty face of yours.”

There he was.

So easily crawling under your skin with his words and now with such a thoughtful gift that fully displayed his artistry and exceptional needlework.

A lump in your throat held your words back.

Maybe he didn’t consider this gesture all that relevant or even worthy of a lingering thought, but you did.

This was a silent extension of him.

Now you’d have him by your heart at all times.

But the moment was cut short as a loud bang rippled across your table.

A man reeking of cheap mead cackled loudly at you. He was swaying so violently it was an incredible feat that he was able to stand on both feet without losing balance.

“Oi! Aren’t you that gal from a few years ago who did magic tricks?”

Your blood ran cold at once and your insides twisted into several knots.

“I don’t think so.” you said, focusing your gaze on the drink in front of you.

You didn’t recognise him, but you silently prayed he would just drop the matter and leave.

Instead, he hiccuped. “N-No! It is you! I would never forget such a face.”

Your eyes met Astarion’s momentarily as he narrowed his crimson eyes at the loud drunkard, and you reckoned he was close to intervening. 

You mustered your strength. “No. It’s not me.”

But the man was insistent as he was drunk.

He banged a hand on the wooden surface once more. “What? You are the one whose mother–”

The flash of a dagger pierced through your field of vision, landing right between the man’s fingers, the blade pressed menacingly against his thumb.

“She said ‘no’,” he said through gritted teeth, eyes flaring with contempt. “Should I teach you the meaning of the word?”

The man shuddered and cowered in fear as he strolled away as fast as his wobbly steps would allow.

But Astarion had overdone it and had simultaneously caused many heads to turn your way, voices whispering as people tried to make out what the fuss was all about.

“We’ve overstayed our welcome,” he said, sheathing his dagger as he stood up.

You remained frozen in place, still taken aback by the words the man had spewed at you.

Your mind had been kept too busy to dive back into the memories of your mother, and to dwell on what had happened so many years ago.

A shudder spread across your entire body as the sense of dread gripped you.

You felt his hand nudge your shoulder. “Now’s not the time for daydreaming, sweetheart.”

And he quickly tugged at your arm, pulling you up on your feet before the two of you scurried along the tavern and earning heavy glares.

You made it out just in time as two Fists crossed paths with you on their way inside, trying to disperse the crowd that had gathered around the entryway.

“What was that all about?” Astarion asked as soon as you were able to blend in with the passers-by. 

“Nothing.”

Your mouth had gone awfully dry even though you had downed most of your apple juice, replenishing your hydration level. 

He stared at you, raising a brow inquisitively. “He did actually know you, didn’t he?”

You met his gaze in a silent warning. “He must have had me confused with someone else.”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a terrible liar, but I will not pry. We all have secrets to bear.”

You nodded, thankful for his understanding remark.

There was no point in lying to him. He could always see right through your silly attempts at deception. 

“Just know that you can come to me should you need to air them out,” he added. “I know all too well how buried secrets always find a way to crawl to the surface – one way or another.”

It was a glaring testament to how he had come to terms with opening up to someone else.

He had come far in that regard and you felt proud of him.

A faint smile settled on your lips, but it faded just as quickly once realisation hit you.

“Wait!” you said, gripping his arm. “The handkerchief – I left it there. Let me–”

He patted your back. “Leave it, darling. Unless you fancy starting a tavern brawl, that is.”

Your heart dropped.

“But…”

“I will embroider you a new one.”

But he never did.

There was no point in lying to Astarion.

You were very well aware of this.

He would spot your deceit faster than a hawk could tail its prey.

But the dreadful sense of impending doom had rooted you to the sofa.

This couldn’t all just be a coincidence. 

By the time the two of you had reached the room, Gale and Lae’zel had already vanished through a portal to Waterdeep to assess the situation. 

“All we can do for now is wait.” Astarion said, adjusting his shirt. 

Shadowheart scoffed. “This is all very odd. It’s as if something is at work against us.”

You nodded. “I agree.”

“Are the two of you in some competition to see who’s the most dramatic?” he said with a click of his tongue. “Honestly, we know nothing about what happened. Maybe his contact succumbed to self-inflicted boredom – a running theme amongst wizards.”

His sense of humour would have been welcome under different circumstances, but you were on the brink of freaking out.

“Maybe I could cast Arcane Gate and help out…” you said in a restless tone, feeling nauseous.

But the mage slayer outside kept your magic levels too low for you to successfully cast a level six conjuration spell, so it was not even an option.

Astarion immediately snorted as he joined your side. “Perish the thought. I don’t think it’d be wise to do such a thing given your condition. You might open a portal to some place infested with murderous creatures, and then I’ll have to jump in to rescue you.”

Shadowheart, who had been pacing worriedly across the room, came to an immediate halt. “What condition?”

You rubbed your temples as if it would magically dissipate the gnawing headache.

“I had too much to drink last night.”

Shadowheart’s accusatory stare immediately landed on Astarion. “What did you do?”

He scoffed dramatically. “Excuse me? I am well aware that pinning the blame on me is a recurring activity in this group, but I had nothing to do with this.”

You groaned with a wince. “Please keep your voices down…”

Shadowheart rushed to lower herself by your feet until she could eye-level with you. “Are you all right?”

No.

And it had little to do with the aftermath of your alcohol consumption.

Ava.

Your intuition was pounding ceaselessly in your mind and you just couldn’t bring yourself to ignore it any longer.

Yes, she had told you she would talk to Astarion, but your nerves were being eaten raw and time wasn’t something you could afford to spare.

“I… think I need to talk about something…” you began as a shiver tore through your body.

Shadowheart gripped your knees, her face twisted in alarmed worry. “What is it?”

You exchanged a glare with Astarion who eyed you in confusion.

“I met up with Ava last night and…” You paused briefly, pondering your next words. “She made an offering.”

His brows furrowed together. “What offering?”

You felt sweat coat your palms as your heart rate quickened in distress. “She’s under the impression someone is after us,” you said, clutching your hands together. “That whoever it is might be responsible for that dead body and us getting wrongfully arrested.”

Shadowheart was now gripping your knees firmly. “And what did she offer?”

Your leg was visibly shaking now as you were finding it harder to keep your composure.

“Apparently, when Astarion feeds on me, our blood mixes together and…”

As far as you were aware, Shadowheart wasn’t aware of his deal with Ava, so you decided to hold that information.

“She’s interested in that… mixture and wants access to it in exchange for information.”

The effect your words had was nearly catastrophic. 

Shadowheart looked positively scandalised and Astarion immediately gripped your arm, snarling, “ What? ”

He was instantly on his feet and you followed suit.

“How would she even have access to that in the first place?” she asked in awe.

Astarion spoke before you could, “I’ve been giving her some of my blood as she researches ways to counter the effects of vampirism. But I wasn’t aware of this!”

“ Astarion! ” Shadowheart let out in sheer outrage. “What in the Hells is wrong with you?”

He ignored her remark, eyes fixed on you.

He was mad.

No.

He was furious.

Up until this point, you had only ever witnessed him protect Ava and vouched for her integrity, but it seemed that he was no longer interested in upholding his defence. 

“She told me she would tell you of this as she only recently found out about it.”

“To Hells with that!” he snarled. “Did you agree to that arrangement?”

Silence

But that was answer enough.

“You should have told me!”

You swallowed the uncomfortable lump in your throat. “You never listen to me when it comes to her!”

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “This is different!”

“How?!”

Crimson eyes locked with yours as he scowled deeply. “She involved you!”

His admission stunned you into silence.

It wasn’t all that common nowadays to witness Shadowheart succumb to her protective instinct to the point of no return.

But you could tell she was close to snapping when she approached Astarion, yellow flames dangerously swirled across her palms.

“Give me one good reason not to blast this Ava into oblivion,” she growled with ire. “Or you, for that matter.”

He gave her a mocking scoff. “Darling, I’d love to see you try.”

She smiled deviously and you knew it was time to intervene. 

You carefully placed your hand on her arm. “Shadowheart.”

She glanced at you almost in disbelief. “‘Shadowheart’? He’s out here dealing with dodgy people and putting us all at risk! Now she’s also involved with murdering people in Waterdeep?”

Astarion let out an exasperated groan. “What connection is there between the two, then?”

In all honesty, you weren’t quite sure.

Not yet, at least.

At this point, you were allowing your gut feeling to guide you, and it could very well blow up in your face if she turned out to be innocent in all of this.

However… the warning signs were too loud to ignore.

“I… don’t know yet.”

Astarion was glaring at you with pursed lips, and you vaguely wondered if he was upset with you, or if he was actually upset that his judgement had failed him when it came to Ava.

“You can bleed yourself dry if you wish, but not her ,” Shadowheart pressed in a low voice.

“I know .” he shot back.

She took a step forward, her face dangerously close to his. “Then you’d do well to remember that my respect for you has its limits. Do not cross them.”

You tugged at her arm again, trying to put some distance in between them.

“Well, this conversation isn’t going anywhere,” he said after a while with a scoff before turning around to leave. “I’ll be in my room.”

You tried to go after him, but Shadowheart held you firmly in place. “Let him go.”

It was hard to do so, but you nodded as you sat on a nearby chair.

“I know you care deeply for him, but this is beyond ludicrous.” she said with a heavy sigh.

Her voice was that of reason, so you couldn’t fault her for being so apprehensive.

“He would never harm me.”

And you would always stand by this as sure as the sun is to rise.

“Not consciously, but by dealing with this woman, he might have opened a door to great peril.”

You nodded, avoiding her penetrating gaze. “Wyll is running a few checks on some information she gave me. I guess we’ll find an answer soon enough.”

Shadowheart’s face softened every so slightly.

“Please exert caution with Astarion,” she said, grabbing your hand. “And I’m not talking about this in particular.

Oh.

“I don’t doubt for a second that he cares for you, but I don’t want to see you bound to nightmares,” she said in a whisper. “That is no way of living.”

You took a deep breath. “Things are fine between us.”

Unexpectedly, she let out a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure. My room is next to his and… well, let’s just say that I may have overheard him mumbling your name a few times…”

“What do you…”

Oh.

“So, just… be careful,” she pleaded as she gripped your hand fiercely. “I trust your judgement, but not his… especially not after this.

You felt your heart swell with affection for Shadowheart and you pulled her into a tight embrace, almost tearing up as you did so.

“Thank you.”

She rubbed your back affectionately and whispered, “I adore you.”

“So do I.”

It was becoming more and more apparent that standing outside Astarion’s room was almost part of a routine now.

After a few more seconds, she finally pulled back with a reassuring smile. “I’ll tell the Fists outside to inform Wyll of what’s happened.”

And it was also unnecessarily hard to reach out for that first knock.

You had waited a couple of hours before deciding on what to do.

Wyll hadn’t shown up yet and there was still no word from Waterdeep.

So, you took a deep breath and as you were about to rasp your knuckles against the door, a charming voice was heard, “I know you’re outside.”

Of course he did.

“Can I come in?”

A brief pause.“Be my guest.”

You turned the knob and rushed inside, clicking the door shut behind you.

As expected, the room was plunged in a candle-lit dimness as the curtains draped over the window kept the blazing sun at bay.

Astarion lay on his bed, resting against the headboard as he threaded his way along a piece of cloth with a needle, his eyes solely focused on the task at hand.

Your stomach turned and twisted in knots, and you realised you weren’t quite sure how to start the conversation.

A low chuckle was heard. “I’m assuming you didn’t come here to simply stare at me, darling.”

The lightheartedness in his voice made you feel slightly at ease and you shook your head. “No. I suppose not.”

This time, he did meet your eyes briefly and your heart skipped a beat.“As dashing as I am, I’d rather hear what you have to say instead.”

Right.

You cleared your throat, taking careful steps towards him before taking a seat at the feet of his bed, mindful to keep a certain respectful distance.

“I should have told you about Ava earlier on when you asked me.”

“Indeed.”

He didn’t sound upset in the slightest.

If anything, there was a faint hint of strange calmness to his voice.

“As for Shadowheart…”

He let out a snort. “Please. The day she stops worrying about you is the day I’ll find her in a casket.”

You couldn’t help out a short chuckle as he was absolutely right. 

Still, you laced your hands in your lap, absentmindedly fidgeting with your fingers. “I…” you began, before drifting off as uncertainty took place. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

Astarion paused altogether and his crimson eyes were on you again.

“See, I do understand that reasoning,” he said, tugging at the thread that curled around one finger. “But considering the nature of your conversation with her, you should have told me right away.”

You nodded.

“As fruitful as my connection to her might prove to be, I cannot accept the deal you made with her.”

Your heart raced in your chest at how determined he seemed in his resolve. 

However…

“If what she says is true and someone is after us, this feels like a small price to pay.”

Astarion snipped the thread with a pair of scissors before setting his handiwork on the bedside table.

The look on his face could easily make the bravest men cower in fear.

“Nothing that involves you is a ‘small price to pay’,” he said, voice low and heavy. “It’s one thing for me to willfully provide my blood, and another for her to take advantage of you so blatantly.”

You frowned deeply. “She is also taking advantage of you, then.” 

“I can deal with her.”

Astarion had this tendency to sell himself short in terms of self-worth. At times, he was as confident as one could be, but the centuries of robbed autonomy and lack of genuine bond to others would often slip in and take hold.

He was probably not even aware of how easy it was for you to catch on to this, but you knew him well enough by now. 

“You don’t have to.”

He rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

It nearly shattered you to hear him put up his defences around you so unbelievably fast.

There was no need for that.

“Don’t ,” you nearly pleaded. “Please don’t assume I am trying to tell you what to do.”

Just as rapidly, his features softened ever so slightly. “I apologise.”

You vehemently shook your head. “I also apologise if my words came across as condescending.”

An unsettling silence took place.

His eyes roamed across your face and you felt more exposed to him than you had ever been even when fully naked in his presence.

Even though you felt comfortable and safe with him, there were times when you wondered if it was reciprocal.  

“Ava is not your concern,” he eventually said. “I will deal with her.”

You had no doubt he would.

It just saddened you that… “I know she was helping you out in more ways than one, even if I don’t particularly agree with the… method, so to speak.”

“Yet here you are, thinking that whatever bond I share with her is significant enough,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. “I am using her as much as she is using me. But I never allowed for that to extend to you. Ever .”

You swallowed as his harsh words hit you.

“That was her first mistake – involving you.”

“I took the deal freely.” you said.

“You didn’t have to at all,” he retorted impatiently. “She needs me more than I need her. So, if she knows anything about someone coming after us, she will tell me and I won’t be kind when I ask her to.”

Fair enough.

“Will you still give her your blood?”

“It depends.”

You blinked. “On what?”

“On how the conversation goes,” he said with a shrug. “Though what I do know for certain is that I will not give her blood after feeding on you.”

An impending sense of dread rose inside you and you vaguely wondered if you had just fucked up.

Information was power, and you worried that she might not take it well now that Astarion was openly against her proposal. 

But to be fair, she did mention she would let him know about all of this. So, it wasn’t truly your fault that he didn’t take it well, was it?

In fact, it was very much on brand with Astarion.

His sense of loyalty to you was unwavering and transcended any arrangement the two of you had agreed to.

And that was a bond not easily severed, probably much to Ava’s dismay.

“You are off limits.”

It wasn’t a subtle warning by any means and it made your heart swell with warmth somehow. His protectiveness nearly rivalled that of Shadowheart, though you wouldn’t dare tell her this.

A faint smile curled his lips. “I have to thank you.”

You arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

He hesitated at first. “I know you mean well. I do know that.”

Oh, Astarion…

“You’re a better friend than I could ever have hoped for – or even deserve,” he went on. “It is hard at times to be vulnerable. I was never allowed to. For centuries I equated being vulnerable to being weak… even pathetic.”

You were unsure of how to respond, but you felt each word tug at your heartstrings in a way that you had only felt when he had confessed his feelings for you back in Moonrise Towers. 

“I’m still getting used to this…” He paused abruptly as if pondering his next words. “Allowing myself to feel all these emotions, I suppose.”

“You are more deserving than you think,” you said truthfully. “Give yourself some credit. You used to be bound to your selfishness when we first met. You didn’t care for others because no one ever cared for you.”

His face held an expression akin to hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. Breaking one’s protective shell didn’t come without discomfort, but it was worth it in the long run. 

Unconsciously, you shifted along the edge of the bed as the overwhelming urge to embrace him took over you at once. 

Still, you didn’t want to push it, so you halted once you were sitting right next to him, which earned an amused smile from him.

“I have something for you.”

“Oh?”

He reached his hand to grab the piece of cloth on the nightstand. The very same he had just been embroidering moments ago.

“Come here.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he tapped his thigh twice. 

Noticing your hesitancy, he repeated the motion until you gathered yourself, feeling a rush of heat pool at your cheeks.

“You do have a thing for keeping me waiting, darling.” he remarked playfully.

A chuckle made its way past your lips as you moved to settle on his lap, careful not to sit too close to his-

“Here you go,” he said, proffering what resembled a kerchief of some sort.

You took it in your hands, admiring its silky texture and mesmerising fusion of different shades of blue that swirled beautifully together until your eyes spotted the yellow-threaded embroidery sprawled along one corner.

Your name.

The needlework was impeccable as always.

Your eyes widened in sheer bewilderment as you remembered the last time he had offered you such a gift.“I – this is beautiful,” you managed to say. “The other one was a masterpiece as well.”

He chuckled tenderly. “The timing of my offering was rather inopportune on that day – I should have waited until we were back in camp.”

His words were sweet and caressed you like a lover, and you could feel yourself drawn more and more to him.

“May I?”

You nodded as he took the kerchief from your hands only to have it drape around your neck, his fingers tugging gently at both ends as his eyes met yours.

Oh.

Fuck.

You only had time to hastily hold on to the headboard with both hands for support as he pulled you in closer. “May I kiss you?”

It was an uncomfortable position to be in since you were trying to avoid his crotch at all costs.

“Where?”

His gaze dropped to your lips.

“Friends don’t do that.” you teased, but still inching closer to him.

“Darling ,” he began with a click of his tongue, rolling the edges of the fabric around each finger. “We haven’t been friends for quite a while now.”

And then he kissed you.

It was a hungry and urgent kiss and his tongue quickly slipped past your lips, causing you to instantly melt into him.

The softest moan escaped your throat as you felt a single fang nip teasingly at your lower lip.

Driven by pure instinct, you shifted along his thighs until you were pressed against his crotch.

He broke the kiss to let out a strained groan and you immediately lifted your hips, alarmed that you had gone too far.

But his hands immediately dropped to your waist, holding you in place. “Don’t.”

You met his lustful gaze. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t. Please .”

He didn’t push you back against him, but you felt his fingers tease the waistband of your trousers. 

“Astarion…” you said, unsure if this was a good idea.

He tugged again, but more gently this tme. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with.”

Oh, you were more than eager to carry on. In fact, you were desperate .

You bit your lip, torn between listening to reason or giving in to the moment.

The latter won by a landslide. 

You nodded and he masterfully undid the buttons and laces with one hand.

“Do you trust me?”

What an odd question from him. “You know I do.”

His thumb traced your jawline before grazing your lower lip and earning a sigh from you. “Can I trust you not to scream?”

“Scream? Why would I-”

Realisation hit you like a tidal wave and your eyes widened as words died in your mouth.

Oh.

Astarion smiled cheekily, patting your thigh, clearly urging you to slide off of his lap.  “Lock the door.”

You were still taken aback and didn't move an inch, staring into his crimson eyes instead as your heart drummed rapidly in your chest.

“Lock the door .”

It resembled a plea, which caused you to clench involuntarily from how desperate he sounded.

Swiftly slipping off his lap, you hurried across his room to turn the key below the doorknob until a click was heard.

By the time you turned around, Astarion had removed his shirt and you were rooted in place, utterly speechless.

He was a work of art. 

No words of praise would ever do him justice.

Your mouth had dropped slightly open and he chuckled deviously. “You’re free to stay there and gawk, but I’d rather have you on top of me.”

His teasing snapped you out of your trance-like state and you felt a stronger wave of heat flare across your face and rush down your body.

Your legs felt weak all of a sudden, but you found your way back to him as you always did.

In the end, all roads did lead back to him.

As if driven by an outside force, you quickly slipped out of your trousers, only leaving on your underwear which was already gathering a growing wet spot.

His stare was fixed on your lower half and you spotted the familiar outline of his cock strained in his own trousers.

He eased you back on his lap with a firm grip on your waist and a boyish grin on his lips. Your hands settled on his bare shoulders, still mindful to not lower your hips too much.

“So, my dearest friend… ” he said, adjusting the kerchief around your neck. “How often do you indulge in such activities with your other friends?”

You smirked playfully. “Not often enough.”

He mirrored your expression, fingers slowly undoing each button of your shirt. “Oh? I wonder who crosses your mind, then.”

You.

But he already knew that as his hands travelled down your chest, each breath allowing your shirt to part wide enough to expose your heaving breasts.

“Is it Wyll?”

“You and your obsession with Wyll,” you laughed as he slowly pulled the fabric to the side, exposing each breast at a time. “I’m starting to think you want him for yourself.”

His eyes left yours to gaze at a perky nipple. “The question is: would you be willing to share?”

You whimpered softly as his thumb traced the underside of one breast and you felt too tempted to press down against his erection just so you could comfort the throb in between your legs. 

“Of course… I’m all for sharing friends.” 

Once he began grazing your nipple, you had to grip his shoulders tighter to anchor yourself.

Your body undulated instinctively, earning a hum of approval from him.

“Would you let Wyll do this, then? As a friend, obviously.”

You were about to arch a brow at his question when you felt one finger pulling your underwear to the side, exposing yourself to him.

It was almost comical how soaked you already were.

You reckoned it was enough to take more than just his fingers.

“Would you let him, darling?”

“I–”

But your voice died in your throat as he ran a single cool finger along your folds, carefully avoiding the swell in between them much to your agony.

The shift in temperature was always something that took some time getting used to and you occasionally flinched as your body adjusted to his touch.

“Can I do this, then?” he asked in a low growl as he teased your entrance. “As a friend.”

You rolled your hips out of reflex and he sank into you with ease until he was knuckle-deep. 

“Gods…” you moaned in sheer relief, instinctively clenching around him.

He then pressed his thumb between your folds, causing your hips to jerk as he teased the pulsing swell. It wasn’t long until you began to slowly ride him, your eyes nearly fluttering shut.

“You can take more, can’t you?” he cooed, moving his hand to tease your other nipple. “I remember how eager you used to be for my cock.”

At this rate, he would make you come from his teasing words alone and with a single finger buried inside you.

“Astarion… don’t…” you moaned as you rolled your hips, urging him on. 

He needed to shut up…

You needed him to stop talking before-

He suddenly slipped a second finger and you lost your balance, pressing your breasts against his bare chest while seeking support from his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.

“You have no idea how I longed to be inside you again,” he sighed, his fingers gripping your waist and guiding your sloppy rolls, eventually setting the pace. “My hands can never feel as divine as you do.”

Gods…

You shuddered violently as your moans quickly turned into sobs and whimpers, the wet lewd sounds filling your ears.

He pressed the heel of his palm against you, the delicious friction causing you to rake your  hand down from his shoulder and along his chest until he caught your wrist, pressing your heated palm against his hardened nipple.

Astarion immediately groaned and you felt him arch into you.

“Darling…” he moaned, pumping his fingers faster inside you. “Please look down.”

You were so out of it, that his words didn’t register at first, so you kept on riding him in between sobs, further teasing his nipple under your touch.

“Look down,” he repeated more firmly, nearly slipping out of you. “I want you to see the mess you’ve made.”

“ No-no-no … please…” you nearly cried in exasperation, moving your hips desperately against him.

“Then look down.”

You growled in pure frustration, somehow managing to pull back enough to have your eyes land on the hand in between your legs.

It was soaked down to his wrist, and you could see some of it beginning to drip, staining his strained bulge.

You felt an overwhelming wave of embarrassment wash down over you and tried to bury your face in his neck again, but he gripped your chin with his fingers, halting you.

“Do not hide from me,” he said, slipping his fingers back inside as he stared into your half-hooded eyes. “This is one of the highest praises you can offer me.” And he proved his point by planting the softest kiss on your lips.

You immediately melted into his praise, realising just how lovely he could be…

The pent-up sexual frustration was at an all time high and you could feel the familiar coil in your lower abdomen reach the point of no return.

You wished you were strong enough to fight him back with snarky and witty replies, but your concentration was broken. 

“What about a third one?”

You didn’t care anymore.

You just wanted release.

It had been too long since he had made you come and you'd take anything he gave you at this point.

“Just…” you began, chasing after that high relentlessly. “ Just… ”

He had the nerve to chuckle at your frustration and you felt a third finger prodding at your entrance.

You could take it.

You would take it.

The fullness would most surely remind you of his cock and you needed it.

You were wet enough to accommodate him as he pushed through, earning a gasp from you followed by a shudder and a strained groan.

“I don’t mean to brag, but I highly doubt dear Wyll would get this reaction from you.”

“Gods… stop talking about Wyll as you’re inside me,” you managed to string coherents words together in between your moans. “Just… please…”

He pressed a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You always take me so well.”

How you wished it was his cock instead, stretching you even more and filling you deeper.

You were nearly there.

“Don’t scream, darling.” he teased as you rode him desperately. “We wouldn't want dear Shadowheart to overhear your wanton cries.”

Well, Shadowheart was already privy to the nature of your relationship with Astarion thanks to him and how he clearly didn't shy away from taking care of himself with others around.

Your mind was about to blank and you slid the kerchief from your neck, feeling the need to bite down on something as you reached your peak.

A few more hip rolls did the trick and one last stroke of his thumb along your folds managed to push you right over the edge.

Your contractions were so violent and strong at first you thought you might die from how hard you were clenching around him, your legs wobbling dangerously as you were drained of lifeforce with each blinding wave of bliss.

The piece of cloth in your mouth didn’t do much to muffle you as your climax tore throughout your body, but it was better than having nothing.

Astarion only slid out once you had slumped into his chest, barely able to keep your breathing steady.

Your knees gave out and you sank down against his crotch, earning a guttural growl from deep within him.

Shit.

You instantly slid off of him, worrying you had accidentally gone too far. “Astarion… I’m…”

He shook his head, the hand that was soaked in your wetness clawing at the front of his trousers as his eyes were pressed shut.

Oh.

“I’ll take care of this…” he let out a pained hiss.

Oh.

“I can just leave,” you mumbled. “I’m…”

His trousers were now undone and you could see his clothes cock faintly throbbing.

And he shook his head once again. “You can stay – you can watch… if you want to.” His words were coated in urgent lust. 

Your eyes widened at his proposition and you thought you might implode right there and then.

You had barely come down from your climax and the throbbing that had begun to subside was already about to match your quickened heartbeat.

“Or you can leave…” he said in a low and strained voice.

Oh, he was truly holding back…

“I… can stay.” you offered at once, sitting next to him and trying to ignore the lust that was building inside you once again.

This wasn't about you.

He quickly nodded and with a swift tug he freed his cock and you had to bite down hard on your lip at the mesmerising sight in front of you.

A single strand of precum dangled from the tip, already pooling on his lower abdomen. 

“Gods above…” he let out a sigh of relief, hips lifting from the mattress as he wrapped the hand drenched in your wetness around him. 

This was too hot to witness and you curled your hands into fists on your lap, wishing nothing more than to touch him again.

But you knew he needed this.

He needed to feel at ease with his body first.

His eyes met yours briefly before dropping to your chest and to your breasts as they heaved from your laboured breathing.

You removed your shirt, not wanting to obstruct his view and Astarion growled .

The pace was slow at first as he squeezed his cock, but he quickly picked up, mixing your wetness with his with each stroke.

He looked positively ethereal as his handsome face twisted in pleasure, lips parted and razor-sharp fangs peeking through. 

Should you say something? Should you praise him? Encourage him? Or would it be too much?

From what you remembered, he seemed to revel in your teasing words in moments of shared bliss, but how much of that was an act back then? Was he ever able to fully enjoy being with you?

In doubt, you chose to remain silent as you watched him bring himself closer to his own climax.

It didn't take him long to start mumbling your name in between heated pants and there was no way back now.

You were throbbing hard again, wetness spilling from you with each involuntarily clench. 

Your body was so ready for him… it was almost painful.

A thicker string of precum bridged his tip to his abdomen, and you nearly moaned, remembering its sweet taste.

He rolled his hips languidly, eyes never leaving you as he gripped the bedsheets under him with such force you reckoned me might tear right through the fabric.

That sparked newfound curiosity inside you.

Slowly, you leaned forward, shifting closer just to have your hand next to his without quite touching him, but close enough for him to feel your warmth.

I'm here… I'm with you, you wanted to whisper, but only heard the words echo in your head.

He groaned in response and, much to your surprise, he released the sheets and his fingers found you, intertwining them in yours as he held on to you. 

Your heart might have skipped several beats, you were no longer sure at this rate.

You had seen him reach his peak a handful of times before, but there was something different about the way he toppled over the edge this time.

He threw his head back against the headboard, straining his neck as his mouth dropped open, your name being the only intelligible word you could make out in the midst of hisses and groans. 

Your heart was hammering so fast in your chest that you feared you might not make it as he reached his peak.

His hips still momentarily and he covered his swollen tip with his hand and the first spurts of cum began to slip through his fingers before dribbling down to gather at the base and across his lower abdomen.

You held his hand formçy through his climax. Perhaps the first genuine one you had ever witnessed, which invoked an odd feeling of… delight?

For the second time in just a mere couple of days, the two of you held hands albeit seeking varying degrees of comfort and relief.

Beads of sweat rolled down his temple and covered his bare torso as he descended from his high and that was when his eyes met yours.

Your stomach turned and you felt the throb between your legs begin to ease with each passing second.

“Will you kiss me?”

His request took you by surprise, but you promptly shifted next to him until your face was close enough that your lips grazed his.

Only then did he let go of your hand and merely because he meant to hold your chin as he kissed you softly.

It carried neither urgency nor lust.

Just a pure display of silent  intimacy that strummed at your heartstrings more effectively than any other praise he could ever offer you.

You melted into his sweet touch and allowed your kiss to express the unspoken words you had yet to tell him.

I love you…

Whichever form of love it was, all you knew was that it felt right and love overdue.

You could feel him occasionally smile against your lips and there was not a single drop of doubt in you.

I love you.

After what felt like an eternity, you pulled away, already mourning his touch.

“Shadowheart knows.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You had to hold back a chuckle. “She heard you – well, when you were… handling things after feeding on me.”

The most mischievous of smiles settled on his lips. 

“I thought you said you were quiet…”

“I was, darling,” he said before pecking your cheek. “For the most part, that is.”

You giggled and then stared at him in awe as his beauty increased tenfold from where you sat.

He was impossibly handsome.

“You’re so…”

“Charming?”

You rolled your eyes as he pressed his cool lips to your other cheek.

“Beautiful?”

Another kiss.

“You’re so… you.” you blurted out almost feeling embarrassed from how basic your praise was.

But it drew the biggest smile from him, and you mirrored it instantly.

“Well…”

You watched as his eyes dropped to his lower half and yours widened slightly at the obscene amount of cum was now dribbling down his sides in thick beads. His hand was still holding his now softening cock, fingers drenched in his own spend.

“That’s a lot…” you said.

He nodded, looking almost as perplexed as you were. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” and his voice trailed down.

And you knew exactly what he meant.

With a warm smile, you extended your hand, offering him the kerchief he had gifted you moments before.

He visibly winced. “No, darling. It would be nigh criminal to use such delicate fabric on this .”

Your smile widened. “Can I fetch you a towel then?”

“Please,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “It’s rather messy here.”

You pressed a fleeting kiss to his lips before sliding off the bed and hurriedly slipping into your shirt and trousers and crossing the room.

The key turned in one swift move and you quickly left the room.

You were only able to take a few steps before a silhouette startled you.

Shadowheart.

She was leaning against the railing by the top of the staircase with folded arms and a quirked brow.

“Gods! You scared me,” you said, clutching at your chest. 

“Glad some of us are able to enjoy ourselves in such times.”

You swallowed hard. “Uh… we were just talking.”

She snickered humorously. “I suppose it’s a form of communication.”

An overwhelming heatwave spread across your face. Had you been that loud? Or had he? 

Then her expression turned serious. “Pull yourself together. We have visitors.”