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uhohdad · 8 months

Text

Meine Perle

Octo!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: Reader is tasked with feeding enemy prisoner Octo!Konig

“Just don’t step over the tape, don’t talk to it, and try not to spend too much time in there. Oh, and don’t forget the bucket.” AO3

Inspired by this fanart by @numelu that I have not been able to stop thinking about since I laid my sinful little eyes on it.

Word Count: 25.7k

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, porn with plot, tentacles, restraints, bondage, orgasm torture, tentacle fucking, light anal, light spanking, dw he uses all of his tentacles, corked like you got the suds, dom!konig, hood stays on, choking, injury, holy trinity of fluff angst and smut, no use of y/n, story and smut kinda read like two different stories, that’s my bad, i’ve never seen the shape of water but i’m assuming this is the exact plot, reader gender is obscured but afab during the sex bits for sure, women in stem

Biowarefare has made incredible strides in the last few decades, unbeknownst to the public. Experimental creatures of nightmarish horrors engineered to inflict both psychological and physical damage to enemies live in the darker shadows of war. You’d been sworn to secrecy, but remain haunted by these creatures. You’d rather not get close to them - you were just a biologist. A consultant really, meant to answer questions about organic matter and DNA. You were to assist in the designing process, but this was not a part of the job description.

“It still needs to eat in the meantime,” Your supervisor had delivered around a cheeky smile, as if he was telling a joke. Your face, however, had not shown amusement.

“Just don’t step over the tape, don’t talk to it, and try not to spend too much time in there. Oh, and don’t forget the bucket.”

With only two hours to prepare yourself before dinnertime, you weren’t able to accomplish much work. Nerves escape through bouncing legs and fidgeting fingers.

The fridge smelled putrid. A cesspool of meats and seafood, all untreated and unprocessed, some on the brink of expiration, others completely rotten. You try not to breathe as you remove the top of a crate of fish, your fingers surviving any splinters and unpleasant scents with the protection of thick rubber gloves. The mackerel are large, four to five pounds, you’d guess, just shorter than the length of your arm. You grab two, placing them in the large yellow bucket your supervisor reminded you about. Seawater and fish guts drip from your rubber gloves as you step through the empty sterile hallways.

The involuntary shake of your hands causes the handle of the bucket to rattle against the plastic as you step up to the creature’s holding cell. In front of the large metal door you take a moment to steady yourself with a few deep breaths, but the stench of dead mackerel does little to ease your nerves.

You reach to the lanyard around your neck that secured your badge, trembling fingers hesitant to place it against the reader. The usually stagnant red light flicks green, and a grating alarm sounds followed by the sturdy clunk of the lock. You’re forced to use both hands, setting the bucket down before you grip the heavy metal door. You’re lean your entire weight against it, teeth grit as your heels dig into the tile. Your foot holds the door in place as you reach for the bucket. Once in the containment unit, the big metal door slams closed behind you with a mechanical clunk. The alarm buzzes again, making you flinch, shifting hesitantly in your spot by the door as you take in the sight before you.

It’s huge, bigger than any man you’ve ever seen. It looked like a man. Seven feet tall, you think. Muscles engineered for the purpose of destroying, the purpose of killing. Its arms are bent at the elbows and positioned behind its head, restrained by ropes. The restraints looped thoroughly around massive biceps and forearms, secured to the walls on either of his sides. Another rope had suspended from a mount on the ceiling, securing his wrists in place.

Glowing eyes stare menacingly at you from under a hood that cover its face. The black hood spilled from under a tactical helmet and down his chest, hem brushing up against exposed collarbones.

Slick black tentacles protrude from underneath the hood that hangs over its face, each slithering and curling in their own direction.

Eight larger tentacles resembled that of an octopus. As thick as tree trunks at the bases and gradually thinning towards the ends, four on each side of his spine and spread from its back like wings. Each one moves independently, spread and primed as they writhe in the air.

Mesmerized by the creature before you, you find yourself frozen under its gaze. Taking in such a miraculous sight. Sure, you assist in the design, but you’ve never seen one in person before. Pondering its capabilities, knowing full well without the restraints in place you wouldn’t stand a chance against such a well engineered design. Wondering what horror the hood hides, something so awful it had to be covered. Or perhaps the creature was designed that way, the hood itself intended to further off put its victims.

When you finally break eye contact with it, your eyes find the floor. A red line of tape separates you from the creature, signifying its reach within the cell. Its got a large radius, you’re surprised by how much distance he’s capable of covering even while restrained in place.

You swallow hesitantly, taking a couple steps closer, still leaving a healthy distance between you and the glossy red tape.

“Fresh meat?” It asks, in a harsh and gravely voice that sends a chill up your spine. You weren’t sure if he had been referring to you or the fish.

“I’m not supposed to talk to you.” Your voice is broken and hesitant as you eye the tentacles writhing and twisting alluringly in the air.

You carefully get down on one knee and set the bucket on the ground, your hands shaking. With a calculated push you slide the bucket across the concrete floor and into the creature’s reach. The bucket slides over the boundary a few feet before it skids and tips over, rolling in a semi circle on its side as the fish spill out of the rim one after another.

The creature laughs, a loud and wicked laugh that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Your expression is seeped in worry as you stand, watching it eye the mess before it, cruel laugh still echoing in your ears.

“The new ones always forget the bucket.” It says, low and sinful with eyes half-lidded in menace. It coils a larger tentacle around the middle of the container and whips it back in your direction without warning.

You let out a yelp and dive to the floor, just barely missing the bucket that crashed into the cell door behind you. It bounces back, pieces of the plastic rim snapping off and scattering to the ground.

You scramble for the container, your other hand desperately clawing for your badge before slamming it against the receiver and exiting the cell in a panicked scramble.

The creature’s depraved laugh could be heard up until the door slammed shut behind you, the lock securing into place with the grating alarm. Your breaths are shallow, fishy rubber gloves pressed to your beating heart as you quickly distance yourself from the cell.

———————————————————

You had tried to convince your supervisor to give the task to someone else, anyone else, but to no avail.

“It’s your fault for forgetting the bucket!”

You mocked your supervisor’s inflection once out of earshot before burying your face into your palms with a groan.

You thought about putting in your two weeks. No! No two weeks. You’ll just leave and never look back.

You remember that the government doesn’t look very kindly upon disgruntled ex-employees holding classified information, and opt to run a hand through your hair with a huff instead.

You’ll be quick today, in and out, and then it’s done. Once a day for thirty seconds, until they find a replacement. That’s not so bad.

The second time was easier. You knew what to expect, and the spite against your supervisor, against the creature, only fueled your confidence. Features stone cold as you open the door, the grating alarm having stirred the creature. You step into the room assuredly, returning the creature’s harsh stare with one of your own.

You close more of the gap between you and the tape this time, holding the handle of the bucket with one hand and securing the bottom with your other. You wind it up behind you before using your arms to propel it forward with a huff, grip still steady on the bucket as the fish fly. The creature’s eyes follow the trajectory of the fish until they land at its feet. You had wasted no time turning on your heels and leaving, bucket still in hand.

“Someone learned their lesson.” You hear, and you grit your teeth as you let the door slam harshly behind you.

The creature left a lasting impression in your memory. Its taunts echo in your mind, and you can tell he was designed to get under the victim’s skin. To haunt them, inflicting emotional warfare in addition to physical, torturing them without even being in the same room as them.

You dreamt of it last night. You wondered if that was something that it had done to you. If he had the ability to inflict nightmares, or if he was just intimidating enough to let your subconscious run wild after only a few seconds of exposure.

In the dream, you had been caught in a sea of black tentacles, suffocating you as they wrapped around your mouth, robbing you of air while restraining your limbs from fighting back. The tentacles had wriggled until they transformed into the shape of the creature’s hood, glowing eyes staring tauntingly, but your dream had equipped him with a horrific mouth that laid over its hood, filled with sharp carnivorous teeth spread into a sickening smile. With his wicked laugh, blood spilled from the gaps of his endless rows of teeth.

You had woke up covered in sweat, gasping for air as you kicked free from the hold of your blankets.

The dream had stuck with you, the residual unease not allowing you to fall back asleep. You decided to start research on the creature although you weren’t instructed to - your way of controlling the fear of the unknown by making it known.

Detailed sketches and logs of your encounters with him quickly buried your work assignments. You were recording every detail from the number of visual abdominal muscles to his bluff behavior when encountering a threat, branching its tentacles out just like animals to in the wild do to appear bigger.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered on it during feedings. To gather data, you told yourself, to understand the creature’s physiology. You’re a biologist, after all. Research is the foundation of your beliefs.

You had been able to refrain from speaking with it, even if he was rather chatty. Arrogant, he loved to push your buttons.

You didn’t let him get to you, at least as far as he was concerned. You never let your irritation show when under his watchful gaze, but grit your teeth once you turned your back.

It’s about a week and a half into your new duty when he finally makes you falter.

“You’re starving me, you know.”

Your stride stills, not yet turning towards him as your hand grips your badge. You consider his words, shed of his usually cocky tone.

He could be lying, who knows what his true intentions actually are. On the other hand, you’ve only been feeding him what you’ve been tasked to.

You slowly turn towards him, your eyes squinted as you stare at him. You’re trying to deduce his weight, but it’s hard since you’re not used to estimating in terms of seven foot creatures with tentacles. He looks like he’s made of pure muscle, and those tentacles look heavy. 300 pounds? 400? You’re trying to decide if you should be feeding him in terms of his body weight percentage in regards to a human, an octopus, or a monster.

You should have kept walking, you think. He has your attention now, and not only that, you’ve revealed from hesitation alone that you possess a moral standard to uphold a basic level of decency for a prisoner of war. Now he knows you’re soft.

He can tell you’re trying to figure out if he’s deceiving you.

“If I had food to spare, I’d have used it as a weapon by now.” His low voice drips off arrogance again, and a tentacle reaches down to grab a mackerel, curling as he brings it to the appendages pouring from beneath his hood. You watch carefully as the fish disappears, and wonder if your dream was accurate about the mouth he hides under his hood.

You take a deep breath and turn from him, gripping your badge tighter and exiting the cell as you latch the door shut with a loud clunk.

The next time you’re in that awful fridge that reeks of postmortem and cheap seafood, you add two extra mackerel into the yellow bucket with the jagged broken edges.

When he counts the fish that land at his feet during your next feeding, his tone is still gruff, but softer, “Thank you.”

He leaves it without a witty remark. He caught you off guard again, shown by the slowing in your steps. You didn’t turn back to him this time, but you wanted to believe that he was genuinely appreciative of your kindness. Even if it was just enough not to make an attempt to get under your skin this time.

Your dreams have only become more vivid. You can hear the clunk of the lock on the heavy metal door, the alarm that blares identical to reality. You’ll be having a typical day at work, fully immersed in dry research and black tentacles will emerge from every entrance, every crevice. Holding you still and swallowing you up.

It’s getting difficult to differentiate the events in the dreams to those in real life. It takes hours to reorient yourself enough to fall back asleep.

Circles develop around your eyes from the lack of rest. Your productivity had come to a halt, your thoughts and research now surrounding the creature you feed.

He refrains from making comments at you, now that you’re feeding him enough. The next few visits he doesn’t say anything, the two of you sharing the silence. You’re not sure, but you think you have come to an understanding. You feed him a little extra, and in return he doesn’t say anything about the long stares. Not even a snide remark as you leave.

“What are you?” You finally ask during a feeding, curiously eyeing the tentacles delivering a fish to his obscured mouth.

He takes a moment to consider it, or maybe he takes a moment to swallow the mackerel.

“I am what I am, same as you.”

You look down, a little ashamed at your question. Maybe you have been too judgmental. He’s displayed his intelligence from the start, he’s obviously much more than just an it or a creature.

He was just a being who never asked to be created, same as you. His potential locked away in enemy care, his conscious trapped between these four walls, restricted from moving.

“I’m sorry.” You say, standing tall with your brows pinched and eyes looking up to meet his intimidating gaze.

“For what?” He asks after considering it for a moment, voice holding a slight edge.

“That you’re here.”

You pause before continuing, “That you were made for what you were made for. That you never got a chance to just be.”

His eyes watch you carefully, narrowing underneath his hood. A tentacle curls in your direction while your eyes are trained carefully on him, and you can’t help the shake of your hands as you get a closer look at his slick tentacle.

“I’m sorry you’re here too.” He says, and you’re not sure how to take it. You nod your head anyway, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“Me too.” Your voice is strained with remorse, as if you’re personally responsible for holding him hostage. “I’m not like them.” You say, desperate for him to believe you, “I’m just a biologist, I’m meant to answer questions about DNA and nature. I didn’t- it just got out of hand.”

He studies you carefully, his muscles tensing underneath his restraints. “But you help them.” He says, dangerously and definitive.

“No! I- well, yes.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you did, “This is just a job.”

You look back to him. Could you even say it’s just a job anymore? When you’re assisting and encouraging the creation of beings like him? Forced into this world without regard of their wants, made for a purpose to kill and destroy and equipped with consciousness, without given the chance to discover themselves. Destined to a fate of being slain, captured, terrorized, experimented on, or worse.

You close your eyes again, “No, I didn’t mean-“ Your moral compass is spinning now, and you don’t feel capable enough to articulate your feelings on the matter. So instead you just look at him, eyes begging for him to give you a little grace.

He takes a deep breath and you can’t help but watch his chest rise and fall, tentacles wriggling idly behind him. He doesn’t speak, just studies you, those intense eyes boring into you.

“Do you have a name?” You ask gently.

The tentacles on his back curl, his menacing frame shrinking a bit.

He hesitates before speaking.

“Konig.”

“Konig,” You repeat. You give him your name before asking, “Do you need anything?”

He looks down his hood at you, tentacles itching with curiosity. “Water.”

You give a slow nod and gesture to the cell door behind you, “Yeah, I can, yeah.”

You go through the process of opening his cell door, sneaking the bucket into the nearest bathroom and filling it as high as you can with water, but it’s awkward with the sink’s base in the way. The bucket is a lot heavier when it’s filled and you have to waddle on your way back.

Back in the cell, water sloshes out of the bucket as you use your body to hold open the heavy cell door. You hover the bucket a few inches from the ground, the handle straining under the weight as you waddle it up just before the red tape and set it down. You look at him, slightly out of breath with your hands on your hips.

“Now - you can have this, but-“ You take a hand off your hip to point at him, pausing to take a tired breath, “You have to promise me you won’t throw it at me.”

His tentacles curl again, his hood tilting down. “I promise.”

You look hesitantly down at the red tape, kneeling behind the bucket and using your weight to slide it across the floor and over the boundary. He watches you carefully, studying the way your body moved as you kneel before him. As you work for him.

Once the bucket is over the barrier you stand and hesitantly take a step back, bracing yourself in case he launches this one at your head.

Instead he wraps a large tentacle around the jagged edge of the bucket, dragging it closer in order to get a better grip. You watch as two appendages work to bring it to his feet with ease. He takes turns eagerly soaking his tentacles in the water.

You’re not sure if he’s cleaning, drinking, or moisturizing, but you don’t ask. You watch as his tentacles smoothly work, picking up what remains in the bucket and dumping it over himself, letting it drip over his front and staining his pants a shade darker. He heaves a sigh of relief, his eyes closing and his glistening muscles relaxing against the restraints.

“Thank you.” He says, low and quiet. A tentacle grips the empty bucket and extends to its full reach, placing it carefully at the boundary.

After his tentacle retracts you reach for the jagged rim, scraping the bottom of the bucket along the concrete as you pull it back into the safe zone with two fingers. “Thank you.” You give a weak smile and gesture to the empty container in your hands. “I can keep bringing you water, if you continue to refrain from throwing?”

He nods, voice bordering on patronizing as his tentacles curl, “I promise.”

When you return the next day, you’ve got a new bucket and a small hose curled up and hanging off your shoulder.

You figured if he was being held prisoner, he at least deserved a full bucket of water and one that didn’t reek of dead mackerel. Konig watched as your struggle to manage to drag in both buckets while holding the heavy door open. When the door closes behind you with its noisy thud and grating alarm, you toss the fish over first, doubling back to haul the water closer. After getting it near the tape, you have to use your back and dig the heels of your feet against the concrete to slide it the rest of the way across the tape. The water sloshes onto your hair and down the back of your shirt as the bucket slides out from under your weight. You nearly fall back into his radius, but catch yourself with a nervous laugh.

You turn to get a glimpse of his tentacle as it pulls the water bucket closer. From here you get a peek at the suckers on his tentacles, each working independently as it grips around the rim and drags the bucket closer with ease. Just one of his larger appendages was stronger than your whole body. It gave you an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you continued to sit on the ground inches from the boundary, your legs crossed as you watch him eat and bathe.

“Thank you.” He says, and you’re unable to decipher his tone over his harsh voice.

“It’s uh, it’s no problem.” You’re memorized by the way his tentacles move, each working independently. It’s a lot of multi-tasking, you think, but it looks like it’s second nature for him, as natural to you as walking and talking at the same time.

“I’m sorry.” He says, in between bites.

“For what?” You ask, head tilting to the side.

“For throwing the bucket at you.” He keeps his gaze to his meal, “Your first day.”

You’re caught off guard by his apology. You hadn’t expected to see self-reflection and regret from him.

You shrug, “I get it. I mean, imprisoned by enemies of war? Restrained against your will? I think everyone has a right to be a little feisty in that situation.” You give another weak smile, fingers absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on your lab coat.

He huffs, wrapping around another mackerel and letting it disappear under his hood.

He lets the silence sit, but the biologist in you can’t help but analyze his diet, “You gettin’ tired of eating the same thing everyday?”

A tentacle reaches up to pick a fish bone from his teeth before flicking it casually to the floor. He considers your question carefully, a habit of his you’ve already logged.

“I’m tired of everything,” he says, and the exhaustion in his voice makes you look to the floor in shame.

Your arm crosses over your chest, thumb anxiously running over your opposing bicep, “How long have you been here?”

“I’ve lost count.” He says.

You wonder if he actually wants to be in conversation with you, or if any stimulation is a better alternative to staring at these four walls, alone with nothing but his own thoughts.

You take another deep breath, accustomed to the overwhelming smell of fish by now.

You’re not sure what to say to him. No words could offer someone in his situation comfort. Instead you watch as he finishes his meal and simultaneously bathes his appendages. It’s oddly alluring, how he moves. You wonder just how many things he’s capable of doing at once. Such a being must be very efficient.

He doesn’t seem to mind your company or curious stares. If he does, he certainly doesn’t voice them. You think he must be used to staring by now, and you wonder if you’re no better than the rest.

When you return the next day, you’ve brought a door jam. You’ve got too many things in your arms to carry in to be able to manage the door all at once. Konig watches from his restrained position as your cluttered silhouette stumbled into the cell. You set the buckets down with a thud, letting the extra bags roll off your shoulders. You have to huff, the trek down the hall weighed down supplies stealing your breath from you. Once you’ve removed the door jammer, silencing the annoying alarm and leaving you both with privacy, you return to his meal.

“I brought you some stuff.” You say as you shake the food bucket before tossing the contents in his direction. Various seafoods you could scrounge up in the fridge scatter to the floor. Shrimp, clams, oysters, a few different species of fish. Whatever seafood hadn’t turned rotten in the walk-in fridge.

His tentacles wriggle and reach out, suckers gripping to the food before him as he brings it to his mouth.

You’re not sure, but by the way his tentacles are wiggling you think you’ve won at least a few brownie points.

You turn from him to walk the bucket of water to the boundary, letting it dangle between your legs in an awkward waddle.

“I brought something else, too.” You say with a hint of hesitance, straining a bit as you set the bucket on the concrete.

His tentacles curl in… anticipation? Curiosity? Hatred? You’re not sure, but you’ve been trying to piece together his body language back in your lab for quite some time.

He doesn’t say anything, so once you’ve got the water bucket over the boundary, you cross back to the discarded bag and rummage through it.

You reveal a small black box, setting your bag down as you extend the antennae.

“A radio.” You say with a sheepish smile. He doesn’t say anything and you look to your gift with uncertainty, “I just thought - well y’know, I wouldn’t want to be trapped with my own thoughts. Everyone deserves some sort of distraction, yeah?” You say, kneeling on the floor as you set the it into his radius.

His glowing eyes stare down the present, and you’re not sure what he’s thinking. “Not a music guy?” You ask tentatively, a hand finding the back of your neck.

A tentacle slowly extends in your direction, carefully wrapping the radio in its grip. He brings it to his face, examining it with his glowing eyes. He sets it down carefully, and while he doesn’t say anything, you’ll take it as a win that he didn’t immediately fling it into the wall, shattering it to a thousand pieces.

You stare down at the floor for awhile, the only sound filling the room is his slick tentacles tending to his meal and bath, clam shells clattering to the ground as he quickly works the meat from them.

“Thank you.” He says, in between bites. It comes out low and vulnerable, as if the words were foreign to him, or possibly held down by the weight of things unsaid. Maybe it’s because he’s having to be kind to a captor, forced to be cordial to someone holding him prisoner here - and for what? Meeting his basic nutritional requirements?

He could be playing the long con, hiding his deep hatred for you so he can lure you into trusting him. You’ll end up like the ones before you, destined to the fate of a sudden and unfortunate accident.

Your stomach turns at your predicament. You could be educating the future about the miracle that is the powerhouse of the cell, but no, you just had to take the government research job, flashy paycheck and hopes of changing the world.

He tenses for a moment, tentacles stilling except for one that loops up underneath his hood, picking something from his teeth. He holds it in front of his eyes to get a better look at his find.

His gaze flicks to you, another undecipherable stare that sends a chill up your spine. You watch with bated breath as his gaze returns to the item in his grip, tentacle moving in your direction before carefully placing it at the boundary. You watch as his appendage curls like a snake to gently nudge it in your direction. Like a marble it rolls to you, over the red tape and bouncing off your shoe. Shaking hands stop its slowing roll before you pick it up between your fingers.

A pearl, from one of the oysters you’d given him. It’s uneven, not a perfect sphere, but its texture is still smooth in your fingers. You wipe the spit and oyster remains on your lab coat before letting the pearl rest in your palm, tilting it in the light to get a better look at it. It’s a purplish gray, iridescent colors shifting as you move it.

“How neat.” You say, tone that of an interested biologist, “Poor guy must of had a splinter.”

Once you get a good look at it, you set the small treasure back across the tape to return it to him, but he stops you.

“For you.” He says, definitively enough that you can’t argue.

You lips part as you look to him, stunned and wide-eyed at his gesture.

Maybe he hadn’t hated you.

You wrap your hands carefully around the pearl, bringing it close to your chest.

“Thank you,” You say, voice breathy in awe.

You unwrap your hand to study it carefully in your hands, your little pearl. Cradling it as if it’s a fragile being if it’s own, not a resilient clump of calcium carbonate that survived both a life in an oyster at the bottom of the ocean and engineered predator teeth capable of cleaning the meat off a skeleton in seconds.

He watches you study your gift, the same way you had studied him with eyes wide in amazement and curiously. You don’t see his muscles relax against his restraints. He continues to eat, slowing his pace as his stare stays on you.

You hadn’t exchanged any other words during that interaction, but you think the silence that encompassed the cell was comfortable. At least on your end, you’re not sure about Konig.

He passes the empty water bucket back you, and before you gather all of your things, you tuck your precious pearl away in a pocket of your lab coat.

Back in the lab, you rolled the pearl in your fingers, wondering if Konig’s gesture had meant the same to you as it had to him.

Humans regard pearls as highly as a precious gem, but maybe to him it was no different than discarding trash, just as he had flung the fish bones that got stuck in his teeth. He may have even been demonstrating his annoyance with you.

How dare you not clean his oysters before you serve him, do you want him to choke?

Does he know the rarity of a pearl? How we string them into necklaces? Adorn ourselves with them to elevate our look? How we gift them to our loved ones?

There was so much you didn’t know about him. His mystique kept you up at night and your mind wondered with the possibilities. You were a researcher at heart, aching to get an understanding of him from the inside out. Endless analyses filled your days and black tentacles swarmed your dreams. In the hours between night and dusk you considered your own morality. You’d never met one of the biowarfare creations up close before. You didn’t realize they were capable of sentient thought. That they are truly beings of their own freewill instead of a programmed organic weapon.

You think you’ve already crossed too far over the line, that there was nothing you could do to make it right.

The next time you visit Konig, the sound of the radio floods the cell between the calls of the grating alarm. Once the door secures behind you, you can make out a talk show. The news or perhaps something educational, judging by the dry voices and even tones you hear before he turns the dial off with a tentacle, his glowing eyes giving you his full attention. You don’t say anything, but it does make your chest fill with a slight warmth to know he’s using your gift.

“I took a trip to the dock this morning,” You start as you drag the bucket of seafood to the tape, “I don’t think I’ll be able to get the smell out of my car, but it’s crab season, so, I got some. Got a tuna, too. Oh, and scallops, you eat those?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes narrow and his tentacles twitch and curl behind him.

“Lobster was a bit steep, but I can keep my eye out.” You say, setting the entire bucket just over the boundary. He had earned his trust with the bucket, and it was too demeaning to force him to eat his food off the filthy concrete floors.

His eager tentacles pull the bucket to his feet, digging into it to uncover your gifts. He wastes no time getting them underneath his hood, you can see his arms tense and steady beneath his restraints as his teeth sink into his meal.

You slide him the bucket of water and then stand back to observe as his slick tentacles take it from you. Simultaneously he’s able to clean multiple crabs at once, expertly working the meat out of its complex exoskeleton and leaving nothing but shell. Much faster than you’ve ever seen any octopus feed.

You think briefly to the feeders before you, wondering if their sudden and unfortunate accidents were just Konig cleaning the meat off a skeleton. You wonder if he was designed to feast on his enemies, if his diet had held space for human.

Another meal.

You look down to the space between you and the red tape. Three paces away. You casually make it four, just for good measure.

“Thank you.” He says, and it’s slowly becoming your language. The words thank you uttered a thousand different ways, each with a different meaning, weight, and inflection, neither of you fluent or able to decipher the other.

You don’t feel comfortable prodding, instead you steady your feet and watch him mesmerizingly tear apart his meal, body restrained but tentacles still fully dexterous. You wondered if he minds you watching him eat, or if he felt like a zoo animal under your watch. Your hand creeps into your pocket to nervously play with the pearl, fingers running over the smooth surface.

After he clears a few more crabs, he looks up from his meal to eye you carefully. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes, how disheveled you look.

“Tired?” He asks.

One hand stays with the pearl while the other rubs the back of your neck. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep last night, uh, so I went to the docks early this morning.”

He flicks another shell into his pile, studying you carefully. After a few moments his tentacles outstretch welcomely, some resting against the concrete floor, “You can rest here.”

You tense under his stare, your eyes shifting hesitantly to his tentacles. “Oh, no - I just have a lot of work to do.” You eye his core for a moment before returning to his gaze, “I can sit for a little, though.”

He gives a pleased hum as you do, eyes narrowing as he watches you prop yourself against a wall on his side, leaving about three feet between you and the red tape. His gaze turns back to the seafood as he works. You observe him, resting your head against the cool concrete and staring down your nose. You can’t help but close your heavily eyelids, listening to the sound of shells snapping and being tossed to the floor.

Your fingers continue to smooth over the pearl in your pocket. It became a habit of yours, fingers finding the pearl absentmindedly, rolling it between your touch to soothe yourself.

You’re thinking about all the things you want to ask him. About his physiology, his full capabilities. About how he feels, what thoughts and emotions exist in a brain engineered for warfare. About his opinion of you, if he’s disgusted with you or if he understands that you’re both just products of a horrific environment.

Is he capable of empathy?

You couldn’t ask. Your relationship seemed so fragile and delicate as it was, so you both opt for silence.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you open your eyes again, but he’s done his feeding and bathing, both buckets emptied and placed at the boundary in the center of the room. He’d tidied his cell, the floor cleared and the food bucket now holding his cleaned crabs, various shells, and fish bones.

His tentacles stir when your eyes meet his, and you take a sharp inhale as you rouse. You touch a hand to your heart, the other feeling for the pearl through your pocket. Your eyes find the red tape, and you’re still in your spot, propped up on the wall three feet from the boundary.

“Did I fall asleep?” You say, touching your forehead. If you had, you don’t remember having a nightmare.

His hood tilts up and he shrugs.

“How long’s it been?”

After a moment he shrugs again, tentacles working in rhythm to his movements.

Right, he wouldn’t know. You give a small nervous laugh at your foolish question, leaning forward and resting your arms on your knees.

“I should probably get going.” You say, but you don’t move from your spot, and he doesn’t wish you goodbye.

You stare at the floor on your side of the red tape. You can see his larger tentacles wriggling in the corner of your eyes, along with the glow of his stare.

Your back ached from sitting on concrete for an extended period. It made you wonder how sore Konig was, his arms having been restrained to their position bent behind his head for ages, forced into a standing position every hour of the day.

“I’ve made a huge mistake.” You say with a laugh, one in disbelief of yourself. You lay your palm flat on your forehead again. “I don’t know how it got this far, really.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing at you. He doesn’t say anything, and you continue.

“I’m just in too deep, right?” You huff, throwing your hand back down to your thigh. “I’m all torn up about this. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I’m just thinking about this nightmare of a job I’ve got myself in. You get so caught up in the paperwork and day-to-day, you forget what the end result is. I didn’t realize you were so sentient.” You give another nervous laugh, exasperated.

“Now I don’t know what to do.” A hand moves to your pocket and pulls out your pearl, holding it tightly in a closed palm by your side. “I’d try to make it right, but I don’t know how, okay? I really don’t know what the right thing to do is. I don’t know if there is a right thing to do, I think that ship has sailed.”

The right thing would have been never getting involved in this line of work, to never have learned of or aided in the creation of beings like him in the first place. But you’re both here, together, and there’s no way out.

You gnaw on your lip, looking to the ground. His eyes don’t leave you. Silence drapes over the cell as your words echo through both of you.

After the long pause he speaks, harsh voice layered with a hint of optimism, and his tentacles twitch and curl with his words.

“It’s not too late.”

You’re not able to meet his gaze, so you solemnly shake your head at the floor. You already know what he’s suggesting.

“You understand why I can’t do that, right?” You ask, soft and defeated.

He tenses under his restraints. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push. You hope that means he understands. That he understands the risks he’s asking you to take. The threat of your employers, the threat of him, fully realized and unrestrained. That you wouldn’t stand a chance against a powerful being like him. That no matter how many gifts and thank yous are exchanged, your actions will always layered with a high probability of deceit. That trust is inherently not possible in a relationship between a prisoner and the keeper. Between a being made for killing and the target he’s designed to kill.

The silence falls over you both again.

When you finally stand to retrieve the buckets, his gaze follows you.

“Perhaps in another life, we’ll get it right.”

Your shoulders tense at his words, your pace slowing. You don’t meet his eyes as you leave to discard his scraps, the harsh alarm and clunk of the door concealing your exhausted sigh.

The next few visits, you wordlessly hand over his meals and water before sitting on your spot against the wall, resting as you wait for him to return the buckets. It feels so nice to close your eyes, and it’s hard for him to haunt your thoughts when you know exactly what he’s doing. Your subconscious has a difficult time running wild when presented face to face with reality. It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks, even if the concrete hurts your back and leaves your neck stiff. You feel oddly comforted being in the presence of the only other being who understands your struggle, even if he was the heart of your conflict.

Konig doesn’t seem to mind when you doze off, at least he doesn’t complain. He may just not want to bite the hand that feeds him anything other than mackerel on the brink of decomposition. Sometimes you’re out for a few minutes, sometimes hours, not waking up until well into the evening, long after you should have left the building.

He never disturbs you, letting you rest as long as you need. Listening to the light snores you make, his gaze fixed on the rise and fall of your chest.

He can tell you’re still afraid of him, when the first thing you do as you stir is search with wide eyes for the red tape to ensure you’re still safely outside his radius. You always relax when you meet his stare, though, watching his tentacles curl as you rouse.

You always run your hand over your left coat pocket, usually at the same time you’re searching for the red tape in a panic.

He wonders if you’ve brought something to defend yourself if things go wrong for you. If your hand reaches for the outline of a weapon in your pocket, some feeble defense to soothe your fears of him.

You usually offer an embarrassed laugh or coy smile as you adjust, usually while rubbing out a knot on your back.

Sometimes, especially if you haven’t gotten a lick of sleep the night prior, you’ll readjust from your spot against the wall to the floor, curling up on the concrete and positioning your arm underneath you as a pillow. You’ll rub the sleep from your eyes when you wake, propping yourself up on your elbow to look for a watch that doesn’t exist.

Little words are exchanged. What words could be shared to offer either of you comfort? Anything he says could just be a ploy to gain your trust. Anything you say does little to aid his position as prisoner.

There’s one visit, when you stir, where your back is fully flush to the concrete and you get a view of the ceiling of his cell. Your eyes widen, always with a sharp inhale, as you turn over and prop yourself up to search for the red tape. It takes you too long to find it, having to press your chin to your chest to get it in your view.

You had rolled over in your sleep, bust having crossed over the boundary, forearms propping yourself up in Konig’s radius.

You freeze, eyes wide as you look to him, wondering if he was aware of the easy prey ready for the taking.

He stares at you, tentacles still wriggling, but not outstretched. He keeps them pulled close to him, unlike his usual intimidating posture.

You’re still frozen in your spot, eyes wide and locked onto him as you process.

He could have easily wrapped a tentacle around your neck and ended your life before you had even woken up. Or worse, he could have restrained you, tortured you, and held you hostage as a mean to earn his freedom.

But he didn’t.

He’d left you undisturbed while you rested, as he always does.

Your heartbeat has made its way to your ears, muffling the sounds of hitched breaths escaping your parted lips. You two haven’t broken eye contact as you lay paralyzed on the floor.

He had spared your life, that was clear to you. He had resisted the urge to effortlessly snap your neck or get revenge on you for assisting in holding him prisoner.

You slowly sit up, locked on to his gaze.

Another trick to gain for your trust, you wonder. Spare your life now and stab you in the back later.

You slowly scoot outside his radius, not turning your back on him as you hesitantly stand and clear your throat.

Once you’re outside of his reach, you feel for the pearl through your pocket, but you can’t find the telling bump through the fabric of your lab coat. You reach into your pocket, finally taking your eyes off Konig’s glowing stare. Your fingers come up empty and you look to the floor where you had fallen asleep, and your eyes find it a few paces from the boundary.

When Konig sees what you had been hiding in your pocket all this time, and your hesitance to step back over the red tape, a tentacle carefully reaches to pick up your pearl. Instead of nudging the pearl back over to the tape and letting it roll to you as he did the first time, he flips his tentacles over so it’s sucker-up, unfurling it to his maximum length to present the pearl to you at waist height.

You can’t help the way your brows retract and your mouth parts as you study his slick appendage. You’ve never gotten this close of a look at his tentacles before. Each sucker wriggles independently, just as his tentacles did. You wonder if it’s autonomous to him, or if he has control over each one. Your shoes scrape the concrete as you shuffle nervously to the boundary, toes pressed up on the red tape to take the pearl from him. He could easily wrap his appendage around your wrist and pull you fully into his reach, just as he does with the buckets. Your fingers tremble as you reach for your possession, the involuntary shaking causes you to brush against his tentacle, leaving behind a clear slick on both you and your pearl.

His appendage retracts once you’ve taken it from him. A heat creeps up your cheeks, embarrassed that you’ve been caught hanging onto his gift like this. Carrying it around with you and visibly worried when you lose it.

If he had been simply discarding his trash instead of giving you a gift, unaware of the value of such an item, he probably thinks it’s strange of you to continue carrying it around.

He doesn’t voice his thoughts if he has any, just watched quietly as you tuck the pearl back into your pocket, smoothing over it once it’s secured.

“Thank you.” You say sheepishly, your eyes still wide as you digest his actions and lack there of. You’re not sure if you’re thanking him for returning your belonging or for refraining from killing you.

You have trouble making eye contact with him, eyes glued to the floor.

You’re thinking that maybe there might be some trust between you two after all. You’re thinking about the new details you noticed on his tentacles from your close view that you’ll surely record later. About gifts and thank yous and curious states and defined muscles engineered to kill. About how you can only get rest when you sleep under his watch. About what’s hidden under that hood. About how he didn’t kill you when given the opportunity like you had suspected he would.

You think about what he’s thinking.

Then you look to the buckets, still at his feet and not emptied and placed back at the boundary like your usual routine follows. Your brows furrow as you meet his glowing eyes.

Your chest rises and falls as you study him.

“I should probably get going.” You say, nodding to the buckets in an attempt to get him to pass them back over to you.

His tentacles curl and writhe at your statement, and his head tilts upwards. He lets your words hang in the air before he responds.

“Not finished.” He says evenly.

Your brow quirks at the unusual occurrence. It’s not like him to leave a meal unfinished, to stray from the routine.

You give him the benefit of the doubt, choosing to remain optimistic about your new step in trust, “I’ll come by for it later, then.”

You turn on your feet to leave, hands reaching for the lanyard of your badge like muscle memory. You swipe for it a few times, fingers coming up empty. Your chin meets sternum as you look down to confirm its absence, patting pockets and swiveling on your feet to look to the floor where you had lost your pearl.

You don’t see it, so you eye Konig, stare narrowed.

Time slowed as a tentacle, previously obscured behind his back, unfurls and stretches far above his head. The end of his appendage loops around your lanyard, light reflecting off the lamination of your ID as it rotates in the air. He dangles it above you both tauntingly.

Your gaze switches between Konig’s stare and the badge. It feels as if the air has been sucked out of the room. You don’t want to believe it - you’re in denial waiting for him to pass it back to you just as he did the pearl. He doesn’t, keeping your badge far on his side of the boundary a few feet above his head, playing keep-away with your freedom.

You shift in your spot and swallow.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice breathy but with an edge. You need him to verbally confirm he was stabbing you in the back, hoping he says anything to clear up the misunderstanding.

The tentacle holding the badge shakes, and the rest of his appendages outstretch, just as he had when you approached his cell the first time.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He says definitively, a few of his tentacles curling inwards with his words.

You rub your lips together and nod your head, digesting your predicament. He must have worked the badge off your neck when you rolled into his reach, delicately enough not to wake you.

You’re not scared, surprisingly, not afraid that you’re locked in here with him, most likely on a path to a sudden and unfortunate accident.

You’re more shocked at his betrayal, though you understand you probably shouldn’t have been. You’d been predicting this outcome from the beginning, that he was just hedging his bets and getting on your good side until you let your guard down. It appears your heart still bleeds regardless of your logical analysis, and you can’t help the lump that forms in your throat. You really had wanted to believe you two had an unspoken friendship, that regardless of the circumstances, you had his trust. You felt naive that some part of you had fallen for it. That you had invested enough of yourself to him to be hurt by his betrayal.

Your face burns as tears well in your eyes. You shift in your spot, sure the pain is obvious on your features.

“Don’t do that.” He pleads, tone a lot softer than his words. A few empty tentacles reach in your direction to offer comfort.

You don’t take it, your hand covering your mouth as you screw your eyes shut, tears escaping down your cheeks. You sink to your knees in defeat, almost perfectly between the middle of the cell door and your side of the red tape. All of the worry and ache and exhaustion you’ve experienced in the last few weeks involuntarily floods out of you in broken sobs.

Konig’s tentacles writhe as he watches you cry.

After a few moments, you sniff, wiping snot and tears from your nose with your coat sleeve, “Just give it back, please.” You plead at a whisper, stare desperate, “We can pretend this never happened, it can go back to how it was before.” You look up at him, face red and eyes brimmed with tears, “Please.”

It takes him a moment to consider your proposition. He lowered the tentacle holding your badge, but keeps it close to him. His words come out strained.

“You understand why I can’t do that, right?”

A loud sob escapes you at having your words thrown back at you. Without much other choice, you bury your face into your knees.

You cry for the better part of an hour, muffling your sobs into your thighs, curled up in a ball on the concrete.

When you’ve finally regained some composure, you wipe your face for the final time with a sniff.

When you speak again, your voice is forceful but nasally from the congestion of crying. Your head cocks back and you put your palm flush to the concrete, leaning back almost casually to support yourself.

“So what’s the plan?”

He tilts his head at you, and you don’t wait for him to answer before you continue.

“I don’t get the badge until I let you out, right? We both wait, you waiting for me to give in to starvation, and me waiting for someone to come to my rescue before it gets to that point - is that it?” It’s obvious you’re angry with him, words dripping with malice.

He huffs, muscles tensing against his restraints. His eyes narrow at you, tentacles outstretching to fill the space of his cell. You’ve grown accustomed to his bluffing behavioral response and it does little to intimidate you now.

“It doesn’t have to be this way.” He says, appendages curling inwards. “We can work together.”

You give your own huff, breaking eye contact with him. “It’s a little late for that.”

“I tried.” He said firmly, “I tried to do it the right way.”

You think back to your rebuff of his first proposal and groan.

“What choice did I have?” He asks, leaning against his restraints, ropes digging into his arms as the badge lowered to his side, “You wouldn’t have done the same if you were me?”

Your lips purse as you mull it over. Your eyes are still locked on to the floor and another frustrated groan leaves you. You didn’t want to put yourself in his shoes, you just wanted to be mad.

You do what you can to be spiteful with your limited resources, lying to the floor with your back facing him. Your arm is propped under you and your legs curled up. You stare at the cell door, brows pinched as you fume.

Rationally, you know you won’t last long. That you just cried all the hydration out of your body and haven’t been feeding yourself well in the past few weeks, including today. Meanwhile Konig’s been consistently eating full meals with your help and kept his buckets of food and water unemptied and close for him to ration over the coming days. You’re not in the best shape mentally, either, compared to Konig who has absolutely nothing to lose in his position. Even if soldiers bust down the cell door and filled him with lead, would it really be a worse fate than locked and bound in these four concrete walls?

Regardless of your long lists of disadvantages, you’re too upset with him to even consider giving into his demands at the moment.

You stew for hours.

You’ll occasionally adjust in your spot, sitting up to stretch the ache in your muscles before switching to lay on your other side, never facing Konig or even so much as sneaking a glance in his direction. You’re too upset with him to look at him.

Your mind is swirling, thoughts interject thoughts, throwing you new details to fuss over. You’re angry that he stole from you, that he took advantage of your vulnerability, the restlessness he was responsible for. You’re angry that he trapped you in here, imprisoned you even though he knows how awful it feels to be a prisoner. You’re angry that he can stomach sitting back and watching you starve and dehydrate yourself out of spite. You’re angry that he had plotted against you, made you out to be the fool, even if you’d suspected he had been doing so this whole time.

Mostly you’re just upset that you got your hopes up.

Instead of thank yous, your new shared language becomes silence.

You wonder if he can tell the difference. Between the solemn silence, the seething silence, the desolate silence. The thoughtless silences that come after running your mind in circles enough to physically exhaust yourself. The silence that falls on you when you finally shut your eyes, slipping into the comforting arms of unconsciousness.

You wake with a sharp inhale, desperately searching for your precious red tape. It takes you a moment, when you stir, to remember the events of yesterday. Or today, you’re not sure how long you were asleep and you have no way to tell the time.

You had already locked eyes with Konig. His tentacles wriggled and stretched when you looked at him for the first time since his betrayal, but when you see your damned badge on his side of the boundary it comes flooding back to you. An audible groan leaves you as you roll back over to face the wall.

You try to fall back asleep, desperate to escape from reality, but the dryness in your mouth is impossible to ignore.

Your mouth is begging for moisture and your joints are stiff. A dehydration headache had settled behind your eyebrows.

You need water.

You have two options.

Beg Konig to share his water bucket, or let Konig free and you’re free to get your own.

You decide you’ll just rot on the floor, instead.

You close your eyes and try to ignore the sandpaper feeling in your mouth enough to lull yourself back to sleep. You’re mulling over your options for water, and a detail you can’t believe you’d missed makes you sit up to look at Konig for the first time intentionally. Your head had swiveled around quickly, brows lowered in offense, “How do you expect me to get you out of here without giving me my badge back?”

He lets your question hang as his glowing eyes meet yours. His stare is intense, but yours doesn’t falter.

“I asked you a question, Konig. I don’t have anything to free you with. I know you don’t have anything to free yourself with.”

Your words are sharp and dangerous.

“So what’s the plan? You’ll have to give me my badge back to get something to cut you free.”

He looks to the pocket that held your pearl. His plan had one flaw - that he had not accounted for the outline in your pocket you’d reached for whenever you stirred being anything other than a weapon. He was sure you had brought something to defend yourself with if he had attacked you. Something that you could use to cut his restraints once you gave in to your starvation. He miscalculated the amount of trust you’d placed in him and it should have become obvious to him the moment you had looked to the pearl after finding your pockets empty.

He eyes the mounts that hold his restraints, two on the floor to his left and right and one in the ceiling directly above his head, all out of his reach.

“You’ll untie it at the base.” He says definitively.

Your teeth grit as you look to the ceiling, “How do you expect me to get-“ You cut yourself off when you realize what he’s suggesting, “No! No.”

His head tilts down but his stare says on you.

“No. Too far.”

A few of his tentacles curl, “I don’t want to watch you starve.”

“Then give me my badge back, Konig!”

His body tenses at the way you say his name. Coated in wrath and following a harsh demand. Your aggressive volume and fists clenching by your sides trigger his bluff behavior, tentacles stretching to fill the space of his cell.

He says nothing, and your eyes dart around his features before you let out a huff, turning away from him again.

You regretted saying anything to him. You’d wished you’d just swallowed your realization a little longer to mull it over before your compulsive outburst.

You hadn’t had a chance to consider that he would offer to give you a lift. You had been so focused on avoiding his reach that the thought of him wrapping around you and lifting you up in a tentacle was foreign to you. You’re not sure you would have thought of it even if you had taken time to consider it. The idea of getting close to him once he was cut free from his restraints was nerve wracking enough, let alone trusting him enough to hold you steady a story in the air as you free him.

You manage to sit with your spite and dehydration for a few more hours, even sneaking in short nap before you break.

You sit up slowly, head pounding as you prop yourself up with a palm flush to the concrete. You look at him, eyes pleading.

“Konig,” You say, so much softer than the last time you said his name, “I need water.”

His tentacles twitch, but he says nothing, glowing eyes staring you down.

“Please, Konig.” You say, voice broken.

He doesn’t respond, and you can’t help but sob, no tears escaping your dry tear ducts.

Your voice raises in desperation.

“Konig, don’t do this to me!”

He closes his eyes, the glow of his stare disappearing behind black eyelids. A tentacle reaches down to turn on his radio, and he dials the volume up to drown out your pleads.

A heartbroken expression spreads on your features. How could he do this to you? How could he put you in this position, after everything?

Your eye catches the water bucket by his side.

He doesn’t want to give it to you?

He thinks he can make you beg and plead for your lifeblood?

Fine.

You’ll just get the damn water yourself.

Your brows pinch as you check on Konig, who still has his eyes closed to rid the visual of your crying.

Your palms have already sprung yourself forward before your feet catch up to you, having to straighten your upper half as your shoes scrambled for concrete. After light fumbling you quickly pass over the red tape, beelining for the water bucket. You’re running so fast you overshoot, having to extend your leg to skid the sole of your shoe on the floor to slow yourself. Your body lowers to the ground with your extended leg as fingers wrap around the handle of the bucket. You’d looked to Konig, whose glowing eyes had snapped open and darted straight to you at the sound of your shoe skidding and plastic scraping against the concrete as you struggled with the bucket.

You catch a glimpse of his tentacles writhing furiously before starting your dash back to safety. You’re reminded of the heavy weight of the water bucket, stumbling over yourself as you struggle to manage both its heft and your panic at the same time. You’re inches from safety when a tentacle shoots out and loops around your ankle, pulling your leg out from under you when you go to take your final leap over the red tape. Your palms extend to brace the concrete, and while you manage to narrowly avoid hitting your head, you hear an internal rip that makes your stomach turn and a blinding hot pain bracelets around your wrist, stunning you. The bucket had crashed to the ground on its side, water spilling to the floor and soaking your clothes.

“No!” You grit, but you don’t have time to think about the water or your wrist because Konig starts to drag you backwards through the puddle and into the air with the tentacle wrapped firmly around your ankle.

A gasp escapes you and fingers desperately scratch at wet concrete until you’re fully airborne, hanging upside down and clawing for the ground.

You curl up in an attempt to rip his firm grip off your ankle, but your core isn’t strong enough to reach, so you end up just wriggling in his grasp like a fish out of water.

Another meal.

You hear the radio turn off, and your eyes find the ground, partially curtained by the tail of your lab coat. Your soaked shirt has slipped down, revealing your core. Water drips from your soaked clothes and splash onto the concrete. You can tell the ground is a long fall away and when you give up reaching for your ankle, your hands stretch out towards the ground and preemptively brace your fall, injured wrist pulsing as you follow your instincts. Involuntarily squeals are leaving your parted lips as he stills, dangling you so your body is above both of your heads and you’re eye to eye with him as you hang.

You look at him with fear swelling in your eyes. You’ve never seen him up close before like this, even if upside down. You’re inches from the hood that covers his face, glowing eyes reflecting off yours. You still, free limbs falling in line with gravity as you stare into his narrowed gaze with wide eyes. Your headache is severely exacerbated by hanging upside down, feeling your own pulse in your head as the blood drains to it.

When he speaks, his voice is low and dangerous, and he gives you a slight shake with his tentacle for emphasis.

“I think it’s time for you to let me out.”

His growled yet arrogant words send a chill up your spine. Reminded you the being you’ve come to feel so much for was still a monster.

He’s left no room for argument. He’s given you plenty of chances to let you make the choice yourself, and yet you resisted. You had opted for the hard way, and you had left him no choice.

Release him, or suffer a sudden and unfortunate accident.

“Okay! Okay!” You squeak out with a slight flail, hoping it pleases him enough to prevent him from slamming you as hard as he can into the concrete.

You still again, slowly holding your hands up, palms showing. You calmly let out one more, “Okay.”

His head tilts backwards slightly, silently keeping your stare.

“Can I at least be upside-right? Please?” You squeak out, heart racing intensely enough you can hear it in your ears.

He lets you dangle for a few more moments before a tentacle curls around your waist. Instead of using the end of his tentacle like the one around your ankle, he had secured around your bare waist with the middle part of another appendage, the thicker grip giving him a sturdier hold on you. You think this must what it be like to be in the hold of a boa constrictor, trapping you and reminding you of its strength but not yet squeezing the breath from you.

He slowly flips you upside right, but keeps your flushed face inches from his. Your feet are only a few feet from the floor now, but you don’t bother trying to remove the tentacle on your waist. You’re well aware of his strength and you can feel his grip threatening to tighten around you. You won’t stand a chance against even one of his appendages, let alone all the others at attention behind him.

He takes his time looking you over, watching your eyes flick nervously between him, the tentacle firmly coiled around your waist, and the floor beneath you. Your mouth was stretched in fear and unease, breath hitched. You weren’t flailing anymore, but your feet did still mindlessly search for foundation and your hands had gripped on to his slick tentacle in an attempt to steady yourself.

He gives a huff before moving you through the air again. He goes slow, extending you out to the wall to his right. He has to pass you off to the end of another tentacle in order to use his full reach. You can’t help but feel felt up as he wraps and curls around you to keep you steady in the air.

He has to lay you almost diagonally with your head tilted towards the floor to get you close enough to the mount that tied off his binds. He uses some extra appendages to secure around your lower thighs and hips.

You let out a few breathy expletives as he adjusts you, grabbing and moving you against your will through the air.

You had to reach your arms out in a full extend, and even then the cool metal of the mount is just barely grazing your fingertips.

You wriggle in his grip, swiping at the post, grunting as you do so. He does his best to use the very end of his appendages to hold you in order to get you closer.

“Got it.” You say breathily as your hand grabs the mount. You give a light huff as you try and pull yourself closer, but Konig is extended his full range and instead you yank against his tentacles.

The knot of his ropes are tight around the loops of the metal post. You’re not sure if you’ll even be able to untie them with just your fingernails, but you don’t think Konig will accept an excuse.

He’s not hurting you, but his grip is definitively still tight, putting an uncomfortable pressure on your ribs. Had your clothes not already been soaked with water he would have left stains on your lab coat from the slick of his tentacles.

Your hands shake violently as you fuss with the knot. You’re forced to stretch, already sore muscles aching as you overextend them. Involuntary grunts escape through your gritted teeth as you dig at the knot, feet kicking as if you’re trying to swim closer to it. You try for minutes, but the knot is way too tight for you to even get a fingernail into. It doesn’t help that you’re being suspended, squished, and held at an angle, and your hands are soaked with water and Konig’s slick. You think your wrist is most definitely sprained, possibly broken, judging by the sharp decline in dexterity and searing pain that’s impossible to ignore as you fidget with the ropes.

The panic bubbles quickly, fingers scratching desperately at all of the loops of rope. You’re pleading under your breath for one of them to loosen, loosen just enough you can slip a finger in - but it doesn’t budge. One of your nails snap as you force it against a crease in the taught knot.

You’re guessing every time Konig has ever pulled against or leaned on the restraints it only forced the knot tighter, and with how long he’s been in this cell the rope has fused together with friction and time.

The panic isn’t on your side, causing you to thrash at the ropes and undo whatever insignificant progress you had made. Your whines would be matched with tears of irritation and fear if you had any water left in you.

“Konig?” You sob, “I can’t do it! I’m trying, really - the knot’s too tight!” You give the knot another frustrated claw with your broken nail, “I need a knife, scissors, something!”

You sigh and go limp, arms and top half dangling as his tentacles support you.

“Just kill me,” You whisper through your dry throat, eyes screwed shut and voice cracking.

You pause, and when you speak again your voice is quiet in defeat, but still holds an edge of malice, “Just do it and get it over with, hopefully the next feeder will be smart enough to bring a weapon.”

You’re still facing the wall, but you can feel his tentacles tense around your middle and lower limbs.

You both still, aside from the involuntarily and uneven heaving of your chest as you sob and wait for death.

All the appendages wrapped around you pull you closer to him. Two additional tentacles move to coil around your upper arms, and he tilts you so you’re upright instead of diagonal. You stay limp, feet and sprained wrist dangling. You let him move your body like a marionette, with your head tilted all the way forward and hair obscuring parts of your face.

He stops when you’re right in front of him again, you would be eye to eye if your chin hadn’t been pressed to your chest, feet only a few feet from the ground.

He holds you steady.

Considering how he wants to kill you, probably. Drag it out a little perhaps? Get a little torture in before he does it maybe?

Maybe your kindness will have not been for nothing, maybe he’s thinking about all the food and gifts and thank yous and he’ll repay you by making it quick. One swift snap of the neck or extra hard hit to the concrete, maybe.

He doesn’t do either.

He slowly lowers you to the ground. When your feet touch the floor and they don’t move to support your weight, he lifts you up an inch and comes in a second time at an angle, gently lying you on the ground so you’re flush with the concrete. His tentacles gently release from you and retract to his sides. Your badge gets placed gently on your stomach, and then all of his tentacles are off of you.

You don’t rush for the badge or the exit. You had already given up, and you weren’t about to give up on giving up, too. Your ass backwards way of maintaining some scrap of dignity.

You continue to lay limp on the floor, ignoring the badge he’d returned to you and keeping your eyes closed, tearlessly crying.

You’re not sure how long you lay on the floor, waiting for him to change his mind and kill you.

You think maybe he wants a challenge, maybe he likes a hunt. Or maybe he just wants to look you in the eyes while he does it.

So once your sobs subside you slowly sit up, your red and puffy eyes staring into his glowing eyes. His whole body is tensed, but he keeps all of his appendages close to him as they curl and twist alluringly.

You’re slouched as you stand, arms hung in front of you before you shift sloppily on your shoes, badge hitting the floor as it falls from your stomach.

You cock your head back to look at him and lick your chapped lips before giving a broken hum. You hold your arms out on either of your sides, as if inviting him to a fight, but you’re weak from dehydration, starvation, and your injury, so your movements are slowed.

You don’t speak, but your face reads Come on, kill me! What are you waiting for?!

He just stares at you, a look you’re unable to decipher from under his hood. His tentacles are writhing, but he keeps them close to his body, even if your stance is aggressive.

You let out a huff and roll your eyes, breaking the stare off. You walk over to his food bucket and empty out its contents onto the floor before stepping over to water bucket, shoes splashing in the puddle it sat in. You stack both buckets so you can carry them with one hand, before doubling back and swiping your badge off the floor with your broken nail, not so much as looking at Konig before you exit the cell.

Your first stop is to the bathroom, where you shed your lab coat, its thick fabric still wet.

You bend your aching muscles to awkwardly crane your head underneath the faucet, gulping down the streaming water. The sweet, precious water. Bathroom sink tap water has never tasted so good.

You’re drinking so fast you don’t even stop for breath. When you pull away, chin dripping and face puffy, you’re gasping for air. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind the sink you had drank from.

Your hair was disheveled from being dragged and hung in the air, face puffy and swollen from crying, and skin showing your dehydration. Clothes soaked from the water bucket and Konig’s slick, face still dripping as you breathe deep.

You take a few more sips from the sink for good measure before turning the faucet off with force. You drape your coat over your injured arm and grab the buckets with the other before you march out of the bathroom and straight to your supervisor’s office.

Oh, the speech you were going to give him was going to be therapeutic. You are planning on letting him have it, telling him to post your position because you’re done, and then you’re going to tell him where he can shove his buckets.

You open his door hard enough the doorknob slams into the wall and bounces back with a shake, but his office is empty, and you let out another groan at the discovery through gritted teeth.

You go back to the lab, gather your things and leave, regardless of the time. You’re caught off guard when you get to the nearest window and see the dark sky. Nighttime.

You cry the entire ride home, not yet ready to process the events but stuck with an overwhelming feeling of dread and exhaustion in the pit of your stomach.

Your wrist was red and swollen and the movements of your steering wheel turned the pain to a cruel pulsing throb.

Once back in your home, you think about a list of things to do to take care of yourself, but opt for wrapping your wrist and popping a few over-the-counter pain relief pills while finishing a bottle of water at the same time. You crawl into bed and pass out without even getting under the covers.

—————————————————————-

You hadn’t set an alarm, so you wake to a tentacle-ridden nightmare with a sharp gasp. You jolt to a sit, wincing when you feel the searing hot pain that bracelets around the sprained wrist you’d used to support yourself.

You get your weight off of it, holding your wrapped arm in front of your face. It triggers the memories of Konig tripping you and your wrist hitting the concrete. Of him dragging you across the concrete floor by your ankle. Holding you prisoner. Starving you. Making you cry. Betraying you.

Threatening your life and then sparing it.

Had it all just been another one of his bluffs? Had he known from the beginning he wouldn’t be able to follow through with his plan, or did he change his mind about killing you once you’d pathetically given up, going limp in his tentacles?

When had he changed his mind?

Somewhere between the first day when he threw that bucket at your head and the moment he’d laid your limp body down on the ground he had changed his mind about killing you, that you knew.

He wasn’t just a mindless programmed weapon, he was capable of some amount mercy. Control.

Unless he knew that if he had killed you, he wouldn’t have been able to get his varied meals and water buckets. Maybe he had kept you alive as just another means to an end.

But he had kept you alive, that was understood.

You close your eyes, falling back onto your mattress. You’d been thinking about Konig non-stop these past few weeks. Obsessing, even. It was exhausting, him and you and both of your mortalities and the constant threat haunting you in and out of your dreams.

You decided you weren’t going to think about him now, that for the sake of your own sanity you needed to focus on yourself.

You treat yourself to a full breakfast for the first time in awhile, topping it off with more pain reliever and water. A long shower eases your aching muscles, but the one-handedness makes it awkward to bathe yourself.

You put on loungewear after you towel off and reapply your wrist wrap, in need of the extra comfort. You leave your dirty lab coat at home before you head back to the office, still in your lounge clothes. You won’t be there long, you decide. You’re going to tell your supervisor what happened, chew him out a little bit, and then let him know he’ll need someone to feed Konig while you take time off to heal and process.

You stop by the lab to pick up your buckets before heading straight to your supervisors office.

You open his office door without knocking and when his eyes meet yours his brows furrow as he gives your clothes a scan.

“I’m going to need some time off,” You say firmly, gesturing to your wrapped arm.

“What happened?” He says, brow quirking.

You laugh, “What happened? What happened?” You use your uninjured hand to shove the buckets to the ground forcefully, your tone dangerous, “Is that I accepted this shitty job offer in the first place. What were you thinking?”

He’s sweating now, eyes wide with shock as you raise your voice to him.

You continue, “You saddled me with feeding him. You gambled with my life.” Your tone goes from angry to quiet and stern, “He almost killed me.” Your gaze flicks to between each of his nervous eyes.

He sputters, “What- What do you mean? What happened?”

“He stole my badge and trapped me in that cell with him! He starved me! NONE of you came for me, NONE of you checked on me.” Your animated tone lowers to one of cold malice, “You saddled me with a deadly job and then left me to die. Not a single reinforcement.”

“How did he steal your badge?” He asks, face stretched in confusion.

You hesitate, “I-“ You cut yourself off. You can’t tell him you fell asleep in there. Because then you’d have to tell him about how you had fallen asleep waiting for him to empty his bucket. The bucket he wasn’t supposed to have. The loitering you were instructed not to do. The conversations you were forbidden from having. The unauthorized tape crossing.

“It doesn’t matter! I’m-“ You’re frazzled now, face reddening, “I’m leaving! Just make sure someone feeds him!” You fumble for the doorknob, leaving him with a bewildered expression and two colorful buckets.

“Are you quitting?!” He yells out after you’re already down the hall.

“Yes! No! I mean - maybe! I’ll let you know!”

You take three days off to take it easy, catch up on sleep, and ice your injuries. It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to relax, just getting lost in a mindless TV show and forgetting your worries for awhile. You didn’t want to think about Konig, it was too painful, but your thoughts kept leading you to him and you had to often remind yourself that you were supposed to be taking a break from him.

After three days, you’ve managed to steady yourself enough to get back to your research. The work had piled up during your stint as a feeder and you thought your normal work would be a good distraction.

The first time your supervisor catches a glimpse of you, he does a double take through the circular glass pane of the lab’s swinging doors before he enters.

He says your name, surprised but still cheerful, “It’s good to see you! Lab coat and all.” He lowers his voice, “I, uh, I didn’t think you’d be back.”

You don’t say anything, attention still to your work.

He clears his throat before continuing, “How’s your wrist?”

“Still sprained,” You say dryly, still not turning to him.

He sputters a bit, “Hope you feel better soon, uh.” He clears his throat again, “You’ll be happy to hear that,” he trails off for a moment before continuing, “It’s being put down.”

Your eyes finally find him, darting over quickly as you set down your notes.

“What’s being put down?”

“The creature.” He says with a smile, as if he’s offering his saving grace.

“No!” Leaves you involuntarily. The wrist with the bandage finds your heart as you stand, shaking your head at your supervisor, “You can’t do that!”

His brows pinch, “What do you mean? I thought you’d be happy about this. He tried to kill you.”

“No, if he tried to kill me I’d be dead, he almost killed me, he spared me!”

Your supervisor steps closer you, holding his palms up in a weak attempt to calm you. You back away from him with each step he takes, still shaking your head.

“He hurt you!”

“That was an accident!” You say, angrily. The edge in your tone causes him to still his stride. You don’t usually speak to him like this.

He says your name again, voice soft and eyes full of pity, “He put your replacement in the hospital.”

Your face goes slack as you look at him with wide eyes, shaking your head slowly, “No!”

He says your name again, “Yes. Listen, I see this has left you on edge. Maybe you should take some more time off, no problem. We can even get you in touch with a counselor specialized in war trauma.”

“No, listen to me, you can’t kill him!”

“How many more sudden and unfortunate accidents do you think we can continue reporting before the wrong person starts asking questions?!” His voice has lost his pity, obviously frustrated with your disapproval.

“You can’t be mad at a wasp for stinging when you whack its nest, can you?! He was made for that purpose!”

He raises his voice, stern enough it stuns you, “And what do you expect us to do with a monster made for the purpose of killing? Let it out into the public? Let it rot in a jail cell while we keep feeding him our employees?!”

“He didn’t kill me!” You say exasperatedly, “He didn’t kill me because you guys are starving him! You’re not feeding him enough. That’s enough to make any man kill.”

“Why are you sympathizing with it? It’s a monster!”

You look at him with squinted eyes and mouth parted in disgust, “He’s not a monster! He’s-“ You cut yourself off.

Your supervisor lowers his head in your direction and crosses his arms over his chest. “Go on.” He says.

You put your palms together gently in front of you, careful not to bend your injured wrist. A sigh leaves you.

“Look, I’ve been doing research on him, okay? He’s rather remarkable and he’s surprised me more time than I can count.”

He scoffs, “I’m sure it has.”

Your eyes screw shut for a moment as you groan in frustration, “No! I mean, sure, he is a miraculous biowarfare weapon equipped with superior predator features, that’s a given, but in addition to that he’s an intelligent creature capable of independent thought! He is capable of being kind and showing mercy. You don’t understand!”

He cocks a brow at you and sighs, “I guess I don’t.” He reaches out, as if he’s going to put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, but stops himself. “Look, it’s been a rough week for everyone here, okay? Why don’t you take some more time off and we’ll take care of things here.”

You realized there was going to be no getting through to him. That there would be no way to get him to see that Konig was an intelligent being capable of restraint, that he had no say in his creation as a weapon, that he was misunderstood due to the weight of being a prisoner, and that even the worst behaving prisoner deserved not to starve.

“You’re still going to kill him, aren’t you?” You say, more of a statement than a question.

He doesn’t say a word, pity still flooding his stare. He turns slowly, stopping once he’s got the lab door ajar at his finger tips,“I’ll see you when you’re feeling better.” He slips out, and you watch the lab door swing to a still as you swallow his words.

It doesn’t matter how you feel about Konig right now, all of your complex feelings have been pushed to the side. They can’t kill him, he doesn’t deserve that fate, that’s for sure. You can’t hold a being prisoner, underfeed him, and then expect him not to act on his primal urges. Not even a human would pass that test.

That and the idea of him disappearing from your life permanently is enough to make your heart pound and your head spin, having to press your uninjured hand to your forehead to wipe away your sweat.

This is your fault, you’re thinking. That if you hadn’t let a substitute go in there after you left things so messy with him maybe this fate would have been spared.

No, no. You can’t afford to think like that. You can’t afford to blame yourself for his actions.

But your actions could save his life.

“Yes,” you say, out loud frantically to yourself at your own idea, “Yes!”

You’re searching the lab, pulling open cabinets hard enough they slam against their holds, leaving their doors open as you dig out their contents and leave them scattered on the floor.

You find what you’re looking for, the sharpest object you could think of in the lab, a scalpel.

You had grabbed the entire dissecting kit with the firm grip of your uninjured hand, finding a sprint as soon as it’s in your grasp. As you run you lay your injured arm across your chest, setting the pouch on top of it like a makeshift table as you pry the zipper open and dig for the scalpel. Your feet are hitting the tile hard and each step jostles your injured wrist but you’re not sure how much time you have.

You have the horrible thought that it might be too late, that when you get there you’ll find an empty cell and you’ll never have the chance to say goodbye, I’m sorry, or thank you again. The lump in your throat and the prick of tears in your eyes makes you stumble, and you use the opportunity to slow to find the scalpel, pulling it from the hold of the pouch through blurry vision. You let the pouch slide off your bandaged arm and crash to the hall floor, returning to your quick pace, damned be lab rules of running with sharp instruments.

You slam your badge into the receiver in a panic, the tears already threatening to spill over at the thought of never seeing Konig again. The scalpel scratches against your badge and when the alarm sounds, you’re looking frantically down the halls to see if anyone is going to try and stop you. When you pry open the heavy metal door enough you stumble into his cell.

He’s still in there, alive, and your tears quickly turn to that of relief.

You’re don’t hesitate, crossing the red tape and closing the distance between you, scalpel in hand.

His tentacles are at a bluff, writhing and fully extended as you dash at him. You realize that sprinting at him full speed with a weapon after the way you left things was probably not the best way to approach the situation.

“Konig!” You say, out of breath and slowing to turn your direction towards the ropes instead of him. You waste no time scraping the scalpel against the taught restraint with your uninjured hand, “We got'ta get you out of here - they’re going to kill you!” The tears are flowing down your cheeks again. You’re not sure if it’s the panic, your upset feelings of him bubbling up at seeing him, or the thought of him being killed.

“We gotta get out of here, we have to go!”

You struggle through the first rope, handicapped by your injury and fraying it in multiple spots as your hand shakes. The scalpel slices all the way through, and the rope snaps back, the loops around Konig’s bicep releasing in large coils.

You make a dash for the rope restraining his other arm, out of breath and tears blurring your vision. Your hands shake as your uninjured hand slices the ropes, unable to grip the restraint with your other hand. You fumble it for moment, panic slowing you down. Something grazes your hand and you flinch, but relax when you see Konig’s tentacle gently tapping your palm. He flips it sucker up, offering to take the scalpel from you.

“Oh, yeah.” You say, a dizzy heat creeping up your cheeks. You hand him the scalpel, blade facing your chest so the end of his appendage can safely coil around it.

He takes slices precisely through one of the indents you started in the rope with ease.

You can’t help the awe as you watch him, mouth slightly part as your eyes follow the tentacle slice through the rope securing his wrists to the ceiling. You take a step back, hands slightly braced at your sides.

His free tentacles are curling and writhing in excitement as he gets the final swipe through his restraints, the slack releasing and dropping to the ground in loops. Once fully unrestrained, he takes his time stretching his muscles, eyes closed and small grunts leaving his lips as his tentacles move in synchronization with his movements. He rubs out the red and irritated lines the ropes left behind on his arms.

You’re still in awe as you watch him, eyes wide and slack jawed. You hadn’t given yourself time to prepare for being in a the same room as a fully unrestrained superbeing designed for killing.

Had he just been being nice to you for his own benefit, you’re thinking this would be the time for him to kill you.

Once he’s done working out his muscles, he steps over to you slowly, eyes not leaving you as his boots make their commanding presence known on the concrete.

“Oh, I-“ You cut yourself off, looking to the side as you take a few steps back. Your palms are out, and you’re thinking maybe you should have thought this through a bit more.

He says nothing, his glowing gaze boring into you as he closes the gap, leaving only inches between you two.

The nerves are apparent on your face as you stare up at him, having to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. He frame towered over you and his tentacles curled behind him alluringly. You flinched when the end of a tentacle came up to brush your cheek, leaving behind a small line of clear slick.

“Thank you.” He says, and for once you know what he means.

“Thank you.” You respond with a shaky voice, eyes flicking around his features nervously.

“Are you ready?” He says, nodding to your badge.

You’d forgotten he’s being hunted. Your unease of him is overtaken by the panic to save him.

“Yes, yes! We should hurry.” You say, starting a sprint for the door, but a tentacle loops firmly around your waist and lifts you up, your feet still searching for floor. Another tentacles comes underneath you like a swing, allowing you to place to weight on it. You can’t help but let out a few nervous squeaks as you’re adjusted in the air. Once you get your bearings you he puts you close to his back, letting your head sit next to his so you’re looking over his shoulder. You’re in a nest of slick tentacles, securing around you to keep you steady, and you’re reminded of the nightmares you’d experienced with a sea of tentacles swallowing you whole.

One appendage is offered to your injured wrist so you could rest it. He does all of this without looking at you, his focus on carrying your through the cell.

He stills and a tentacle reaches out, sucker up, and it takes you a moment to understand he’s asking for your badge. You give a nervous laugh when you realize, pulling it from your neck and ruffling your hair with the lanyard as you do. His tentacle curls around the badge and it disappears from your view.

You hear the grating alarm and the clunk of the lock. Two tentacles return instead of one, opening the lanyard of the badge to place it gently around your neck so you don’t have to. He simultaneously gets the door you struggled so much with opened with ease, and he’s careful as he gets both of you through the doorway.

“Which way?” He whispers through his harsh voice.

You point over his shoulder so he can see your arm from behind him. “That way, I need to grab my keys.”

As soon as he’s starts moving you realize why he didn’t let you run. He’s scarily fast, moving efficiently through the hallways as his tentacles allow him lengthier strides. You’re mesmerized by the way they shoot out, using the walls, floor, and ceiling to support himself as he moves. It’s like something from a horror movie, you think, and you can’t help imagine the fear a victim would feel being charged at like this.

“In here!” You point to the swinging doors of the lab. He’s got you smoothly inside, careful to make sure the doors don’t hit you on the recoil. His tentacles place you down gently, ensuring your feet are steady on the tile before removing his support.

You’re quick once on your feet, running to one of the undisturbed cabinets and shoving your stuff into your lab coat pockets with your good hand before dashing back to him.

“Okay, let’s go!”

But he doesn’t move, because some papers strewn on the lab table had caught his attention. He picks up a piece of paper with his hands and holds it up. The light shining through the page lets you see ink of a sketch you did of him during your obsessive research.

“Oh, that- yeah, that’s, uhm.” You purse your lips together and squint, trying to find an ending to the sentence you hastily started, “Hard to explain.”

He sets it down gently, using his hands to sift through a few more sketches of himself, anatomy labeled and fully detailed. Separate sketches of just the close details of his tentacles. Theories to what’s under his hood and his skeletal structure. His eyes scan over more pages and he find logs of your interactions, his diet, body language.

You laugh nervously, flush creeping up your neck as your eyes dart to the side.

“We should go.” You say, less urgent and more breathy than you meant it to.

He looks at you, glowing eyes piercing into you and you’re not sure how to decipher his stare.

He doesn’t say what he’s thinking, stacking the papers together and rolling them up in a way not to crease them. He tucks them into the waist band of his pants as he wordlessly returns you to your spot on his shoulder as he takes you from the lab.

“Which way?” He says once you’re both in the hallway, but a screams echoes from behind you, and you both whip around to look.

“Go, go, go!” Your hands frantically tap his shoulders to emphasize your words after meeting the horrified stare of a coworker, who had turned quickly on her heels to flee from you two.

He starts to sprint towards the person running from him and you tap his shoulders more forcefully, “No, the other way! Away from people!”

He gives a single nod, grunting in response as he turns on his heels and heads the opposite direction.

There were workers at the end of this hall, too. Three of them, and you can see your supervisor as he rips his attention away from the conversation he was having and turns to the mass in the corner of his eye.

He stumbled backwards, and the others turn to gawk too, screaming and fleeing from you both in a panic. You supervisor had froze, pressing his body against the wall as his shock and horror melds with confusion when he made eye contact with you, perched on Konig’s shoulder.

He shouts your name in panic, eyes searching frantically for aid.

As you Konig tentacles reach out to the halls to quickly pass him, you put one finger up on your good hand. “Don’t forget this!” You say cheerfully.

The dumbfounded and offended look on his face leaves you with an overjoyed smile as you turn back around to rest your arms back on Konig’s shoulder, lower half still supported by his tentacles.

“The stairs are through that door.” You say, leaning forward on his bare shoulder to point.

You both stop in your tracks at the sound of a blaring alarm, much more shrill than the one of his cell. It’s deafening, shrilling through the entire building. There’s bright emergency lights that reflect off the walls from the lockdown sirens.

He looks to you, and instead of yelling over the loud alarm you just point to the doors to the stairs and tap his shoulder frantically again, hoping your urgency translates.

It does, and he continues through the halls, tentacles clearing his strides and pushing open the door to the stairs. The alarm can still be heard, but you’re farther away from the speakers and it’s easier to hear the chorus of heavy footsteps echoing up the stairwell. You grip tightens on Konig’s shoulder, a nervous squeak escapes you.

You both lean over hand rail to see the commotion below, and you can make out flashes of tactical gear and weapons of dozens of soldiers moving in a group up the stairs.

Your eyes widen and you look to him nervously, unsure of your next move.

You really did not think this through.

It’s hard to tell with his hood, but he seems unnerved. He watches carefully over the stairs, and you’re tapping him quickly, silently pleading with him to keep moving to search for another way out.

A free tentacle reaches out to rest on your palm, leaving behind a slick and letting you know that he’s got this. You swallow and let your hand lay on his shoulder. You can’t help the way your fingers dig in to his firm shoulder.

The soldiers are close enough you can hear their voices below you. You screw your eyes shut, trying to search for your trust in Konig and hoping this hasn’t just turned into a suicide mission.

The soldiers are almost in your view when Konig’s tentacles moves you both to the gap in the middle of the stairwell that drops all the way to the ground floor. He’s got you both suspended in the air, his grip on you tight, with tentacles laced onto either side of the handrails of the floor you’re on.

He releases the rails he had held in his tentacles for support, letting you both free fall past the soldiers and down to the ground floor in a blur, catching you both with his tentacles against the bottom floor hand rails.

Expletives leave you without thought, and he turns his head to you to check on you as he exits the stairwell, now on the ground floor.

The alarm is defeating again, so you resort back to using the taps and points to direct him out of the building.

He freezes when the sun hits him, having to hold a tentacle up to shade his eyes.

Does he even remember the last time he saw the sun?

It takes him a moment to steady himself.

“My car’s over there!” You point once he’s steady.

You can hear yelling from the building behind you, the lockdown drill still blaring.

Once you’re at your car he sets you down, and you race to fling the driver door open, fingers fumbling as you start the engine.

He opts for the backseat, and you think it’s a bit odd before you consider the need for him to have room on both sides of him. He’s forced to hunch over in the middle seat, his head is pressed up against the ceiling. His tentacles had spread to the trunk, the front seats, pressed against the windows and coiled up on the seats next to him to get them all to fit. He’s blocking your view of the rear windshield window but you can make it work, you think.

You throw your car in reverse, using just the side mirrors to guide yourself out of your parking spot. You can see the building doors burst open, soldiers pouring from the building. One points to your car.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You say, pressing on the gas, tires squealing as you exit the parking lot.

You hang a skidding right and shoot for twenty over the speed limit, but get slowed by traffic.

“C’mon…” You say to the car preventing you from speeding as you nervously eye your rear view, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. You drive with just one hand, your bandaged arm resting in your lap.

You get a glimpse of a familiar military vehicle in your sideview and you squeal, “OhfuckOhfuckOhfuck.”

The gas pedal slips out from under you and you slide your knees over to glance down in a panic before your eyes return to the road.

You weren’t going fast enough for Konig’s liking, apparently, because his tentacle had stole the pedal from you, pressing it to its full extend against the floor mats. The engine roars as it struggles to keep up, and you have to used your injured hand to steady the steering wheel as you swerve off the road to desperately navigate the other cars.

Your foot desperatly searches for the break, but another tentacle shoots out from your left, coiling around the metal that held the brake pedal and holds it firmly in place. You tried to push it down with all your might, but you were no match for his strength, as if you were trying to crack a boulder with just one foot.

He doesn’t let you use your arm for long, two tentacles coming in to take the steering wheel from you. Your engine is roaring and your eyes find the odometer, you’re going 40 over and climbing.

He coils a few tentacles around you and your seat for good measure, bracing your head and core in the event of a crash.

The expletives are falling from your lips without thought. You’re going well over 100mph now, never having gone this fast in your car before.

“Konig, slow down!”

He’s navigating with ease but too many close calls makes you screw your eyes shut to brace yourself.

He finally lets up once you two are out sight of the soldiers tailing you, letting off the pedal and offering you back control of the wheel.

It takes a few deep breaths and expletives before you take the wheel from him, leaning forward once his tentacles release you.

“Don’t!” Sharp inhale, “Ever do that again!” You say, heart pounding in your chest as you nervously eye the sideview mirrors for signs of trouble.

“I didn’t want them to catch us.” He says evenly. There’s a pause, and you catch each other’s eyes in the rearview mirror in between checks of the road.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” He says with a flick of his tentacle.

You take a few more deep breaths, wiping away the clear stick Konig had left behind on your forehead, “Well, we didn’t crash.” You’ve regained the wheel and find your groove going twenty over.

“I don’t know where to take us.”

“You don’t have a home?” He asks.

“I do, but they have my address in my employee files. It won’t take long for my place to be flooded with soldiers looking for you.” You say, briefly holding the wheel with your bandaged hand so you can put on your indicator to change lanes, sprained wrist returning to your lap.

Silence falls on you both mull it over. You keep driving, wanting to put as much distance between his capturers as possible.

The tentacle stretched in the passenger seat moves close to your bandages, “What happened?” He asks, voice low.

“Oh, uh,” You keep your eyes on the road. You had assumed he would have been aware of what he did to you. It made sense he didn’t realize it happened when it did, his attention elsewhere at the time.

You debate telling him in your head, but decide it’s best to be honest with him, “My wrist sprained when it hit the concrete. When I uh, tripped.”

You swallow hard, glancing at him in the rearview. He’s leaning forward between the two seats, his head close to yours.

“I did that to you?” He asks with a tense frame.

You look at him again briefly before your eyes find the road. “It happened so fast. Neither of us were thinking properly.”

He leans back in his seat, still having to hunch over to fit under the car’s roof. The tentacle outstretched to you retracts to the back seat with him.

Another silence falls over you both as he digests the new information.

“I’m sorry.” He says, voice strained, “I never wanted to hurt you.”

You glance at him in the mirror again, his eyes are turned to his boots. “It’s okay.” You offer a weak smile, even if he can’t see it. “I would have done the same, remember?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he gives a slow shake of the head, and in between checks of the road you can see the fabric of his hood rippling with his movements.

You continue down the highway in silence, keeping your eyes on the stretch of road ahead of you. You drive until the sun sets, making stops for gas only when the station is empty, quickly filling your tank in fear someone will spot the ultimate creation of biowarfare resting in your back seat.

You see a sign for a motel and you decide you’ve covered enough ground today.

“Ready to stop? We can rest for the night here. Give you a chance to stretch out in privacy.”

He hums, but ignores the question, attention directed out the window and over the horizon, “I forgot how beautiful the sunset is.”

It catches you off guard, the sweet words whispered in awe from his intimidating frame.

Your eyes find the clouds reflecting the orange of the sun’s warmth. The bright colors gradually shift to the calm blue of dusk as the sky stretches on. Some of the brighter stars of the night sky are already making an appearance on the other end of the sky.

“It is beautiful tonight.” You say.

A small smile creeps on your features, finally feeling anything other than regret and worry about your impulsive decision to free him. Maybe the hasty ruining of your life and being forced to live on the run was all worth it, because now Konig gets to see the sunset again.

You pull into the parking lot of the motel, pulling out your wallet as you speak, “Stay out here and try to lay low. I’ll get us a room.”

You leave the engine running for him as you handle things at the front desk. The motel was as shady as it looked, not requiring your ID and accepting cash for payment.

Perfect. Untraceable, that’s what you needed. The man in the white stained undershirt doesn’t even give you a second look when he hands over the room key.

You turn your head both ways to scan the parking lot before preemptively unlocking the door to your room. You return to the car with an awkward jog, opening the driver side door to gather anything you’d need.

“We should be good. Just move quick.” You say, closing the driver door behind you.

You watch as he gets out, tentacles pouring out of the car one after another.

He doesn’t seem to be in as much of a rush as you, taking a moment to stretch out his back with a pop.

You’d gotten a head start to the motel room, but he still catches up before you reach the door, opening it for him so he can get all of his appendages inside. You nervously peek out to the parking lot one last time to make sure no one saw you two, closing and locking the door behind you before securing the blinds shut.

“Okay, we should be safe.” You say as you move to pull the sheets up on the mattresses to check for bed bugs.

The room is as dingy as you expected it to be. Peeling wallpaper stained with years of cigarette smoke. Outdated decor and furniture. Stained and faded carpets. An old box television perched on a dresser facing the two queen beds.

“No bugs.” You announce once you’ve thoroughly checked both mattresses. You look to Konig, who’s standing in the doorway of the tiny bathroom, eyeing up what you assume is the shower. You hear the water turn on in a spray against the shower’s porcelain followed by the sound of a belt jiggling.

Your brow quirks as you kick off your shoes and shed your lab coat, stretching your sore back as you settle in on one of the mattresses.

He starts a shower and you can’t help but picture him soaking his tentacles and sore body through the wall of the motel room. He left the door open, and some sinful part of you thinks about peeking.

You don’t, forcing your attention to the TV. You mindlessly flipped through channels with the remote, thoughts lingering on Konig showering. You settle on reruns of a lighthearted show.

You hear the shower turn off with a hearty thud of its noisy pipes. Some more time passes, and you can see flicks of corners of a white motel towel from the doorway.

The jingle of his belt makes an encore, and after a few more moments he reappears, turning the light off for the bathroom with a free tentacle. Another continues to works the towel, dabbing off stray water beads from his skin.

Your cheeks flush, and you catch his wet muscles flexing from the corner of your eye as he makes his way to the other mattress, laying down on his front with a relieved huff. His tentacles relax as well, draping themselves on the duvet and hanging off the sides, the ends lazily flicking and curling as they dangle.

You both sit silently for awhile, forcing your attention towards the TV set while you watch his tentacles curl alluringly in your peripherals. You’ve settled into your spots on your respective beds, trying to find some respite after such a stressful day.

He breaks the silence first.

“I will never forget your kindness.”

“Oh,” You start, heat still flushing your features but keeping your stare towards the television, “It’s nothing.”

“You sacrificed everything to save my life.” He says definitively, “Even after what I did to you.” His eyes linger on your bandages.

“It just seemed like the right thing to do.” You shrug, your eyes finally meeting his. “I was really only at that job for the paycheck.” You pause again, fingers fidgeting with the TV remote, “The guilt was starting to weigh on me anyway. Better to live honestly and on the run than settled-in but trapped, right?”

His glowing eyes stare into yours as he considers your words.

He nods slowly, tentacles twitching and curling.

You give him a cheeky smile and a point, “But no more killing people, okay? I’m responsible for your actions from here on out.”

He huffs in amusement, lifting up one tentacle in the air as if giving an oath, “I promise.”

He stirs suddenly, as if he had remembered something.

“I have something for you,” he says as he sits up, reaching into his pants pocket. You quirk your brow as he stands, closing the gap between your beds and as he presents his fist to you. He towers over you, even more so from your spot sitting slouched on the bed.

You look at him with intrigue, cupping your hand underneath his, “It’s not a bug, is it?”

He laughs, and it’s the first laugh you’ve heard from him aside from the wicked laugh from that first day you met him, the laugh that raised the hairs on your neck and haunted your dreams. This one’s different, softer and playful. It makes your chest warm and you can’t help the goofy smile you give in return.

“No, it’s not a bug.”

He lets the small item drop into your palm and your brows scrunch as you study it.

Your pearl!

You let out a quiet gasp, eyes darting to him once you understand. It must have slipped from your pockets when he had held you upside down during your altercation in his cell. You hadn’t even thought about it, didn’t realize that you had lost your precious pearl. You had been avoiding thinking about Konig up until you heard about his pending execution, and at that point you had bigger things to worry about.

You pick up the uneven pearl with two fingers, moving it in the light, “You had it all this time?”

“I’ve been keeping it safe for you. I was worried I’d never be able to return it to you.”

You purse your lips at the way you had left things. Leaving him without closure in that sterile cell, forcing him to sit with his unresolved feelings and thoughts without an explanation. Never knowing if you’d be back.

“I’m ashamed, at how I treated you. I thought I had ruined the one good thing I had in there.”

Your cheeks flush at his words and you wrap your fist around the pearl. You’re forced to break eye contact with him, hoping he can’t see the heat beneath your skin.

“I’m sorry I left you alone.” You say, eyeing the floor by his feet. “I just needed time.”

He considers your words carefully. “I can’t blame you for that.”

His eyes flick down to the hand that held the pearl and both of you bask in the silence for a moment.

“Maybe tomorrow we can get you a necklace for it, so it doesn’t get lost again.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, mouth parted and eyes wide. A tentacle brushes the apple of your cheek, and he looks at you like he had eyed the sunset, in awe and stunned with its beauty.

He had understood the significance of the pearl this whole time, and he returned it to you post-freedom, meaning there was no chance of him attempting to gain your trust for his benefit.

“Konig,” You whisper, voice breathy.

“Yes, meine perle?”

“Thank you.” You hold the pearl in a fist placed over your heart and keep your eyes fixed up at him.

His hand reaches down to your face, tracing a finger on the underside your jaw. Your breath hitches at the chill that shoots down your spine.

“I’ve been watching you.” He says, finger resting just under your chin, keeping your gaze on him. Your eyes flick nervously to his tentacles curling alluringly over his shoulder before returning to his stare.

You’re not sure what he means, but you’re too stunned by his words and the light touch of strong fingers, breath still hitched and heartbeat pulsing in your ears.

He pulls out the rolled up stack of papers he took from the lab and held close. All of the sketches and logs and theories you’d made during your obsessive research, “Looks like you’ve been watching me, too.”

He gestures to the papers in his hand before placing them on the nightstand to his side.

The tentacle that brushed your cheek moves to your hair, curling strands gently between the slick end of his appendage. Another gently takes the pearl from you, setting it down with the papers.

“Am I wrong, meine perle?”

Your jaw slacks open a little further as you stutter out the beginning of a few sentences, each quickly abandoned one after another.

You settle for a shake of your head accompanied by a full flush of your features.

He gives a hum of satisfaction as he leans down close enough that his hood almost brushes up against your skin. His glowing eyes are inches from yours.

“I want to repay you, meine perle.”

His thumb continue to soothingly stroke your jaw, His voice drops, soaked in a sultry tone as his gaze maps your features.

“You worked so hard for me. Went through so much, didn’t you? So good for me.”

You give a sharp inhale at the praise, a warmth suddenly pooling in your lower abdomen. You’re hypnotized by his large frame, his gentle touch, the inflection of his words. You can only stare up at him in anticipation, caught off guard by his change in demeanor.

A tentacle rests on your knee and begins to creep up your thigh. You try to look down but his hand under your chin keeps you steady.

“I want to make you feel so good, meine perle. Will you let me do that?” His voice dropped to a low whisper, and another tentacle creeps up behind you, making you flinch as it slithers down your shoulder and curls around your collarbones, “Will you let me reward your hard work?”

Your thighs spread obediently at the touch of his tentacle and Konig takes the opportunity to stand between your thighs, keeping them open. When you go to answer the only thing that comes out is a nervous squeak, so you opt for nodding your head.

The grip on your face tightens, a few of his fingers indent the soft flesh of your cheeks, “Ah, ah.” He gives a slight shake of his head. “You have to say it, meine perle.”

It takes you a moment to find your voice. “Yes, Konig.” You whisper through shallow breath, eyes wide as you look up at him. “Please.”

He gives another pleased hum, a tentacle eagerly coiling around your waist and picking you up from your spot on the edge of the bed.

A gasp leaves your parted lips, hands finding the slick coiled appendage at your center for leverage. Your socks scraped the duvet as he repositioned you to the middle of the bed.

Two tentacles work the button of your pants, a sharp inhale leaves you as they yank your zipper down and slide the waistband to your thighs. His eyes trace every inch of newly revealed skin as his tentacle placed you down on the bed, removing the appendage looped around your middle. By the time he gets your jeans off and discarded to the floor, two more tentacles have already begun sneaking up the hem of your shirt, slithering up your stomach and lifting your slick stained shirt with it. You obediently, albeit hesitantly, put your hands over your head to let him take your shirt and bra off in one swipe, ruffling your hair as he does.

You’ve got your upper half propped on your good arm, palm sunk in to the mattress. He corrects this by looping a tentacle around your good wrist, giving it a careful but firm yank as another presses to your sternum and guides your back flush with the mattress. Another simultaneously wraps around the forearm above your injured wrist, gently pinning it to the bed and forcing it to rest on the mattress above you. The two tentacles that removed your shirt trace down your exposed core and down each leg, giving you goosebumps behind the trail of slick they leave behind. The tentacles stop at your ankles, wrapping around them and up your calves like a snake coils its prey.

In quick movements your ankles are forced to in the air, extended and spread. He kneels onto the bed at your feet, positioning himself so he’s kneeling in the new space between your thighs.

He stills, tentacles holding you firmly but comfortably. You can feel his suckers against your bare flesh, each having their own independent wriggling grip on you. Your chest rises and falls, trying to swallow your nerves of being undressed and fully restrained at the hands of the powerful being you’d freed.

His eyes are tracing all of the newly exposed flesh, and you can’t help but squirm against his appendages as you fight the urge to cover yourself. He holds you steady, all your limbs extended as he takes his time committing the curves and dips of your delicate body to memory.

His eyes find your panties, already stained with arousal at the way he spoke to you, manhandled you.

“Such a delicate thing you are, meine perle.“ He says, eyes half-lidded as they admire you.

“You knew you wouldn’t stand a chance against me, didn’t you little one?” His voice is low but gentle, and you’re stunned by his words, his forwardness. You can’t help but be intimidated pinned beneath him.

“You knew the risk you were taking. You knew I was deadly.”

One of his tentacles come up to gently smooth the hair he had disheveled when removing your shirt. You flinch at his touch, and he gives a pleased hum once he successfully fixes your hair.

“And yet you couldn’t help but throw yourself at me.” His eyes briefly widen before returning to their half-lidded boring stare, “Time and time again,” He shrugs in casual disbelief of you, “I’ve never seen anything like it, your carelessness.”

A free tentacle sneaks up your leg again, curling to stroke your spread inner thighs.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re self-destructive. Suicidal, even.”

The tentacle at your thigh creeps up, teasing the waist band of your underwear, and you suck in a breath through your teeth.

“But I do know better, though, don’t I?”

The tentacle lets your panties snap back to your hips, and the appendages holding you as restraints tighten on your limbs threateningly, excluding your injured arm.

His eyes narrow and his voice drips of arrogance.

“You’re just a little masochist.”

The tentacle drags down your front, teasing your slit over the fabric of your panties.

“Aren’t you meine perle?”

Your thoughts are clouded with a haze as you cling to his words, hypnotized by his chilling voice, domineering tone, and arousing touches.

He lets you get away with not responding this time, studying your responses to his teases before he continues. He gives another hum, a tentacle tracing down your neck and core, leaving behind a cool trail of his slick.

The tentacles tracing your cunt curls around your waistband again, while the two appendages securing your ankles maneuver your legs as they slide your panties down.

“Do you like that I have so much power over you?”

He has to unravel the appendages on your ankles to remove your underwear, discarding them over his shoulder. The cool breeze on your dripping cunt makes you shiver, tensing your core and arms in his restraint.

“That I’m a predator and you’re just a sweet defenseless little thing?”

His tentacles quickly rewrap around your ankles, but this time he secures the thick middles around you, covering the tops of your feet in his slick suckers as he forces your legs spread. His tentacles slither all the way up your legs from foot to upper thigh like thick black vines, and he leaves the ends of his tentacles with extra slack so the tips can tease the lips of your dripping cunt.

“Does the danger turn you on, meine perle?”

He gives a hum as he eyes your exposed and spread cunt, thoroughly slicked with your own arousal.

“I can see it does.”

You flush under his stare, still mesmerized by his words and the heat pooling in your lower abdomen.

He leans forward, his hands finding the mattress on either side of your core. You shrink under him as he leans down. He presses the front of his pants against your cunt, spread open by the tentacles looped around your legs.

“You were afraid of me.” He says, and you let out a broken sigh as he grazes your clit, your hips giving small involuntary grinds against him, “Yet you still gave yourself to me, so willingly.”

He hovers his face inches from yours, glowing eyes reflecting off your wide eyes. His voice drops low, and the hem of his hood drags across the curve of your breasts. The smaller tentacles that pour from under his hood curl around your tits, and you flinch under his touch when the ends of slick appendages start to tease your nipples to attention.

“I think someone that brave deserves to be thoroughly rewarded.”

He keeps his face close to you, leaving the equivalent of kisses through his hood down your middle as his smaller tentacles trace your skin.

He kisses all the way down to your cunt, spread open by the larger appendages coiled around your legs. You lift your head to watch him, and he keeps his half-lidded stare on you as the tip of a smaller tentacle swirls slowly around your clit. Another traces your dripping entrance.

A breathy sigh leaves you, your thighs tensing under his tentacles, but he holds firm.

“I am curious,” He starts, eyes locked on yours as he lays his chest flush to the mattress between your wrapped legs. He props himself up on his elbows, and brings a hand up to his hood to slowly pull it up halfway. His smaller tentacles part like curtains to reveal his mouth, and your eyes widen at the sight.

Your dreams had been scarily accurate, a taunting smile made up of rows of predator teeth. Razor sharp and killer. Concern and awe melded on your features, eyebrows pinched and eyes wide.

“Are you still afraid?”

He sticks out his tongue, and your face twitches as you watch it extend unnervingly far from his pointed teeth. The length and curl reminded you of another tentacle, but made of the flesh of tongue.

He dives his tongue up the slit of your cunt, a long deep stripe from hole to clit.

You let out a pathetic whine, your thighs begging to clench around him but tentacles forcing you spread. He hums, tongue sending the vibration straight to your pulsing clit.

He starts slow, tracing circles around you with his precise tongue.

Your hips grind into the pleasure, and he huffs in amusement at your eagerness. He lets his tongue unfurl, completely smothering your cunt with his slick tongue. He loosens his grip on your thighs just enough to allow you to get a better range to thrust into his face.

You give another whine when he stops teasing you, but continue to grind your clit against him in a desperate search for pleasure.

You give him a pleading look, mouth slightly parted for breathy exhales. He lets you grind long enough to embarrass you, waiting for the telling flush of your cheeks.

He finally pulls away with a long swipe along your cunt as you let out a sinful moan. The tip of his tongue returns to your aching clit, flicking side to side. He starts teasingly slow but hungrily picks up once he hears the hitched breaths you take.

You have to lay your head back to the mattress, closing your eyes as you give in to the pleasure.

He presses the tip of his tongue to your clit head on, pushing his tongue forward and letting it slither down your cunt. It curls around like a ribbon, the wide part of his tongue rolling down your clit as the tip curls back to your entrance, rimming your dripping hole. He teases you for a few moments before diving the tip of his tongue into your warmth, keeping the middle of his tongue pressed against your clit.

You let out a gasp as he enters you, and he gives a low pleased hum into your dripping cunt in return. His tongue slithers further into your warmth, the thick of his tongue continuing to graze your clit.

You start to grind down on him again but the tentacles around your legs climb further up your thighs, securing your hips as the ends continue spreading your cunt open for him. You give a whine, and he complies by pushing his tongue in and out of you, fucking you while stimulating your clit.

Your toes curl under his suckers and the moans are falling from your lips without thought as he tastes you.

When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, cheeks flushed and breaths shallow, he’s eyeing you the same way he had eyed the meals you brought him. Free tentacles twitch in excitement as his hungry gaze follows his prey.

The corners of his mouth curl into a smile as he quickens the movement of his tongue, causing you to pull against the tentacles restraining your limbs, desperate moans leaving your parted lips.

He retracts his tongue, an arrogant laugh leaving him as he leaves your dripping cunt rutting into the air.

He licks another deep stripe against your entire cunt one more time, letting his nose swipe against your slit as he drags up. His eyes roll once he retracts his tongue again, a sinful moan leaving him.

“You taste so sweet, meine perle.”

You let out a whimper, rutting your hips in desperation at the sudden lack of touch. He gives another pleased hum as he sits up on the bed, eyeing you from above.

A free tentacle creeps between the mattress and your middle, and when you obediently arch your back he coils an additional appendage around your waist. He hauls you into the air with ease, the four tentacles on your limbs still spreading and supporting you. The tentacle on your injured hand, still less taut than his restraints, slithers up further to keep your wrist in-line with the rest of your arm in absence of the support of the mattress.

He puts you above his head, cunt resting just above his head. He tilts his neck back before burying his tongue back into your cunt while keeping you in the air above him.

A squeak leaves you as you tense against him, unnerved by the sensation of being suspended in the air. Your worry melts to pleasure as he fucks his tongue into you, his tentacle restraints bouncing you up and down in rhythm with his slick tongue.

The jostling and the tentacle coiled firmly around your ribs allows the moans and squeaks to leave you with ease, and he hums in satisfaction at the cute little noises you’re making for him.

He retracts his tongue again, letting his hood drop, and you look to him with pinched brows - as if offended he revoked your pleasure.

“I could eat this cunt everyday and not get tired of it.” He says, and even though you can’t see his mouth you can tell he’s wearing a cocky grin.

You let out a pathetic little whine, giving a weak tug against his restraint.

“Don’t worry,” He says, almost mockingly, before you feel a thick tentacle slither up to tease your cunt, a relieved whimper escaping you.

He uses his thick appendage to swirl around in the slippery mixture of your own arousal, his slick, and spit. He uses the smooth side of his tentacle, curling it against your slit as he moves your restraints, forcing you to grind your dripping cunt on his tentacle. Two more free tentacles slither up your chest, cupping your tits and teasing your nipples with the ends of his slick appendages. He continues grinding you against him as he lays the two tentacles over your tits, a sucker on each covering your nipple and applying suction. The stimulation makes you gasp and pull against his restraints, overwhelmed with him sucking both your nipples and forcing your clit to grind on his thick appendage at the same time. Your squeaky and broken moans echo throughout the motel room.

“I’m just getting started with you.” He says, low and dangerous, “Make sure to save some of those pathetic whines.”

The thick tentacle swirling your cunt teases your entrance before impatiently slipping into you.

You let out a pornographic moan as he plunges into you. You’re sure it was loud enough for the neighboring rooms to hear but being filled up by Konig’s tentacle felt too incredible for you to care. His slick tentacle was thicker than anything a human could offer, and his suckers allowed for a ribbed sensation as he fucked his appendage in and on of you. His dexterity allowed him to find your g-spot with ease, the end of his tentacle massaging it as he fucks in and out of you.

Your eyes close at the overwhelming pleasure, weak and limp as he puppets you up and down on his tentacle.

He’s using all of his tentacles on you now, and you’re helpless to stop him as he removes the appendage that secured your waist and coiled it around your neck, close enough to graze your flesh but not yet applying pressure. Your eyes open at the touch, half-lidded in pleasure as you find his glowing stare. Even through the overwhelming stimulation, it’s an unnerving feeling having him wrap around your neck, reminding you of his power. He could end your life, easily, and there would be nothing you could do to stop him.

He slithers further around your neck, and you can help but shiver under his threatening touch. He sees your brows pinch in worry and his eyes squint. While his hood obscures his mouth you’re guessing it’s twisted into a smile, as if he knows what you’re thinking and had planted the idea on purpose, reigniting your fears before you get too lost in the pleasure.

There’s a sinful glint in his eye, “Do you trust me, meine perle?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, his tentacle tightens around your neck, cutting off your moans with a harsh gasp.

Your eyes widen in fear, your fingers scratching the air instinctively as you wiggle in his grasp.

The tentacle fucking your tight cunt doesn’t let up. You’re left with your mouth open as you ride him, the moans that would be coming out silenced by his tight grip on your airway. The lack of oxygen allows a fuzzy haze to cloud your brain, and suddenly you’re not even thinking about the danger or the tentacles restraining and choking you. All you can think about is the sensation of your cunt being teased and fucked as your nipples are milked by his suckers. You let your body go limp in his grasp, no longer anxious for release. You’re still looking at him, but he’s getting farther and farther away, your vision blurring his bold silhouette.

He waits for your eyelids to unevenly flutter shut before he loosens his grip, keeping his tentacle looped around your neck like a scarf.

Your first sharp inhale is involuntary, followed by desperate sharp gasps for air. He continues pounding your cunt, his tentacle diving further into you, stretching you open as you return from your haze.

His smug snicker progresses to a deep hum of satisfaction.

He gives no warning before he cuts off your air again, watching as you fight against his restraints while managing the overstimulating pleasure.

“I like watching you struggle, meine perle.”

He takes a moment to look you over, watching you tense and feebly wriggle against his strong grip. He soaks in the look of concern and arousal on your features. You fade away quicker this time, eyes going cross as you zero in on the tentacle fucking your soaked cunt, suckers clinging to your walls as he massages your g-spot.

“I’d feel bad about it, but I know you like it too.”

He releases his grip on your neck, tentacle unfurling and leaving behind a necklace of clear slick and imprints of his suckers. You’re sputtering and coughing as he allows you breath, struggling to steady yourself as you’re bounced up and down on his thick tentacle.

Once you catch your breath you’re giving him breathy moans again, tensing beneath the tentacles on your limbs.

“Look how aroused you get when I threaten your life. This tight little cunt is so wet.”

One of the smaller tentacles that extends from under his hood runs circles on your pulsing clit. The tentacle that had retracted from your neck traces a line down your spine, stopping to rim your ass.

Your eyes widen at him as he slicks up the entrance of your hole. You’re nervous about anal, but you don’t find your voice to stop him. He slips a slick tip in, allowing you time to relaxing on just a few inches as he continues working the rest of you.

You were right about him being good at multitasking. It’s a lot to handle a once, your clit being teased, cunt pounded, nipples being sucked, and ass being stretched around the end of his appendage, all while being restrained and unable to relieve the tension building inside your body.

You’re lost to the stimulation, moans and expletives and sweet nothings pouring from your mouth in jumbles.

Konig’s enjoying the show, reveling that he’s made you come undone under his power. The mess he was making over you, covering you in his slick and getting you drunk off his touch.

A white heat steadily builds underneath your skin, pooling to your lower abdomen.

“Konig! It’s too much- it’s too much I’m gonna -"

“Come for me meine perle.”

The waves of pleasure rip through you, convulsing in his grip as you come. Konig doesn’t let up as he fucks you through orgasm. Mercilessly pounding your cunt with his thick tentacle while you clench at the intense euphoria.

“There you go, so good for me.”

You let out a strangled moan, hands searching for something to grab onto for stability but they come up empty, straining against his restraints while powerless to the pleasure.

“Konig - please.” You manage out between your broken moans and meaningless stuttering.

He gives another low hum of approval and he still doesn’t let up, the tentacles still working all your sensitivities.

“Not done with you yet, meine perle.” He warns, and you let out a whine in response.

You’re quivering in his touch now, futilely arching away from him, your pleasure turning to over-sensitivity.

“‘s too much.” You mutter out, shaking in his grip and too weak to escape his touch.

“I know, but you’re going to take it for me, aren’t you meine perle?”

You let out another whine in response, twitching at the stimulation that was turning nearly painful.

He offers some relief by removing the smaller tentacle from your clit, but he keeps the rhythm of both tentacles inside you, filling you up and forcing you to bounce on him. He continues teasing your nipples with his suckers, enjoying watching your back arch desperately as you squirm under the sensitivity.

You keep his gaze, teeth still grit at the overstimulation, eyes pleading.

He removes the tentacle from your cunt as he holds you steady, no longer bouncing you but still teasing your ass as he undoes his belt. He pulls it free with one firm tug, discarding it with the rest of your clothes.

His hands ease his zipper down and he takes his time, amused by your expression seeped in curiosity, desperation, and awe. He inches his pants down enough to expose his genitalia.

A fleshy appendage, a few inches longer than what a standard human male would have, springs to attention from the waistband of his clothes. The entire appendage was a uniform deep pink with no head. The shape reminded you of another tentacle, larger at the base and ending in a slick tip. Slight indents that ran up the sides of his shaft.

He lets you admire him for a few moments before he lines your used cunt with his appendage, plunging into you without mercy.

You let out a loud moan at being filled again, and he rock his hips, letting his appendage grind in you as you sit on his full length.

“Shh,” he whispers teasingly, “Don’t want anyone finding out how much of a desperate slut you are for me, hm?”

He brings the tentacle that had occupied your cunt up to your lips, and you obediently open your mouth to let his tentacle slip in, silencing you as you suck on the end, tasting the mixture of your arousal and his slick.

Your moans and whines are muffled by his tentacle as he pounds into you, his restraints moving you up and down in rhythm with his hips, meeting your hips in the middle as he fills you up.

He lets out a low growl that shoots a tingle of excitement down your spine.

“This pussy feels even better than I thought. So fucking tight, meine perle.” His pace quickens, now pounding ruthlessly into your soaked cunt.

His hands find your hips, fingers pressing into your skin as he guides you on his appendage. The tentacles supporting you allow you to lift almost all the way off him before forcing you down his entire length over and over again.

The moans are pouring from you again, but gagged by the appendage fucking your mouth - slick, arousal, and spit dripping down your chin.

When he pulls his appendage away from your cunt, the rest of thick tentacles still work your ass and nipples as he works to flip you over. He forces you into an all-fours position in front of him, letting you rest your forearms and knees on the duvet, his restraints staying firm on your limbs as he bends them into position as if you’re his doll.

You obediently arch your back and lower you head down on the mattress, sticking your ass into the air. He can see you spread open from behind, and he watches the tentacle work your tight little ass as he shifts to his knees behind you.

He gives you a firm smack on the ass with his hand, huffing in amusement at your shocked gasp around his tentacle gag. He gives you a few more, alternating cheeks as the sound of flesh on flesh echoes throughout the motel room.

He hums in amusement at the squeaks that come from your gagged mouth.

“Such a naughty perle,” He teases in his arrogant tone, “Always putting yourself in danger, hm?”

You whine, fingers clawing at the duvet as you brace yourself, flushing at the idea someone might hear your punishment.

He stops not long after, leaving behind his handprints on your flushed cheeks. He’s getting impatient, so when he lines his appendage back up with you he slides in without warning, hands finding your hips for grip as he slides in and out of you.

He’s too excited, he can’t refrain from letting his hips flush with your pink sore ass.

The tip of his appendage curls forward inside of you, massaging your g-spot as he fills you.

He doesn’t let up, keeping a steady rhythm with his hips and all of the tentacles working you. Your tits groped, nipples sucked by his tentacles, mouth and both holes filled and fucked - it’s overwhelming enough to make you go limp in his hold, not a single thought occupying you as you mindlessly work your tongue around the tentacle gagging your mouth. You’re too focused on the pleasure, how good it feels to be at his mercy.

“Watching you got me so excited, meine perle.” He says though heavy breaths, his grip tightening on your hips, “I’m already getting close.”

His thrusts get more intense, and you think you’d be yelling if you hadn’t been gagged. You probably wouldn’t have been able to warn him about your second finish even if you hadn’t been silenced, too cockdrunk off the overstimulation to properly string together a coherent sentence.

Your cunt clenches around him as another orgasm rips through you, causing your muscles to tense in his restraint.

He lets out a hearty moan, his thrusts becoming slightly uneven as he struggles to keep his composure in your tight walls.

He comes everywhere, his finish not only marking his claim deep in your cunt, but also from each of his tentacles, tips releasing his come into your ass and mouth while coating your tits and spread cunt.

He twitches inside you throughout his finish, fingers digging into your hips as he gives a few light thrusts, milking every drop of his finish into your filled cunt.

You’re still limp when he finally pulls away with a strained moan, his tentacles placing you down gentle on the mattress. You’re on cloud nine, too high from your finishes to be able to support yourself. You let the mattress support you, basking in the warmth of the afterglow, bliss settling over you as you recover.

He gives another hum of satisfaction at the sight, having completely unraveled you and marked you with his seed. He leans down to plant a kiss through his hood on your back, his hands giving a light squeeze on your hips as he props himself up next to you. He runs his fingers up and down your back, swirling through the clear slick his tentacles had left behind.

He lets you rest for a few moments, waiting for your breathing to settle before a tentacle gently drapes across you.

“How about we get you cleaned up, meine perle?”

You let out a dazed hum of approval, letting his tentacles coil around you to carry you to the shower. He presses you to his chest, your head resting against him as he cradles your back and the crease of your knees.

When your eyes flutter open, and you meet his glowing stare, your face stretches into a warm sleepy smile. He unwraps your bandages carefully, and he doesn’t let you lift a finger once you’re both in the cramped bathroom, standing outside of the tub as he scrubs you down. You exchange little words, both of you still basking in the afterglow.

He takes his time wiping the slick and come off your skin, easing around the flushed marks his suckers had left behind on you.

It’s soothing - the warm water embracing you, and Konig smoothing a washcloth over your skin. Intimate, even, how he’s washing your upper arms as he holds your hand with his free hand, watching you while you relax into the water. He’s extra gentle with your injured wrist as he cleans you.

He’s in no hurry as he cleans your middle and legs, enjoying the glisten of the water on your plush breasts and thighs. He thumbs the bubbles on your skin under his soft grip.

He even washes your hair, his large hands massaging your scalp as he runs the suds through. He’s careful not to get soap in your eyes when he rinses the bubbles from your hair, using a tentacle to shield your forehead as he guides your head back under the stream of the shower, disregarding the water spraying all off the motel bathroom floor.

He’s being so careful with you, so sweet and soft, it was a jarring contrast to the Konig that had been ruthlessly pounding you moments before or the Konig you’d come to know trapped in his cell.

Once you were all clean, he shut off the showers with its noisy clunk of old pipes, he was quick to wrap one of the motel towels around your dripping body before he carried you back to the beds. When he stilled you meet his eyes, resting your hand on his chest.

“Guess we’ll have to share a bed.” He says in his cocky tone as you follow his gaze to the mattress, thoroughly soiled and stained from your session.

You roll your eyes at him, giving a soft tap on his chest in your disapproval of his corny flirting, but the smile on your face betrays any hope of hiding your enamor.

His eyes squint from under his hood with a smile, you assume, as he carries you to the bed with his strong arms.

It’s not easy for a being with tentacles shooting from his spine to cuddle. He wasn’t designed for cozy naps and soft embraces, but he does what he can. He presses against the pillows sitting up, at an angle to leave space between the headboard and his back for his tentacles to settle. He nestles you at his side, keeping your head on his chest as your arm rests against over his core. Your leg props up on his as you rest the side of your body on the mattress.

His arm wraps snuggly around your back, fingers making soft circles at your curve.

You’re already halfway to sleeps clutches when you mumble into his chest.

“Thank you, Konig.”

“Thank you, meine perle.”

———————————————————-

More by uhohdad:

HIS - A Stalker!Konig Fic

EXPERIMENTAL - Konig helps Researcher!Reader with a new technology, and Reader sees something they’re not supposed to.

Original Works Masterlist

7K notes · View notes

nanaslutt · 6 months

Note

NURSE GETO? NURSE GETO? GETO NURSE? NURSE GETO? BARKEKKAKAJEVRLKA BARKBARKBARK pls. n u r s e g e t o

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦

ft. Fem!Nurse!Geto x Reader x Doctor!Gojo

contains: fem reader, bisexual reader, pwp, sexual tension, threesome, oral (all three of them), unprotected sex, pullout method, cum eating, face sitting, rough sex, making out, soooo much dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, age gap (reader is 20, satosugu are 30ish), finger sucking, squirting, tag teaming

wc: 14.9k… this took 3 days to write

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You had recently moved states, meaning you had to break up with your doctor of however many years. It was a sad goodbye, and now you were left with the burden of finding a new doctor. You had recently turned twenty, just having moved out of your parent's house a couple months ago, and you had no idea where to start in looking for a new doctor.

You decided you were going to use your newfound freedom to stay out late and sleep with whoever you wanted! Typical first-time adult free from their parent's reins behavior; but you werent stupid, you knew if you were going to do this, you would need to get on some form of contraceptives.

This led you to look up some highly-rated doctors in your area that was currently talking new patients. You scrolled past dozens upon dozens of old wrinkled faces, before you landed on the perfect candidate; Gojo Satoru. His hair was frosted white, his face looked like it had been chiseled by the gods, and his eyes? You felt like they had come to life on the screen in front of you and were looking through your soul.

Yeah, you had chosen your primary care physician based on his looks, so what? You dug into his portfolio and watched the countless interviews he had done on various websites of course! Definitely not because his outrageous looks and deep voice made your stomach turn over, and absolutely to learn more about your soon-to-be doctor.

After one unnecessarily long phone call to the hospital and speaking to some woman who sounded too senile to still be working; you had the appointment set.

One week later, on the day awaited day, you sat in the waiting room and twirled your thumbs in your lap, you couldn't help but notice that every other patient around you was four times your age. You had dressed yourself up in some sexy, but formal enough-looking clothes, you didn't want to make it too obvious that you had dressed up for this—but your styled hair and extra makeup you added might have given that away.

Your eyes never left the clock as you watched the arms tick by, signaling the time as it got closer and closer to your appointment. You constantly had to remind yourself to take deep breaths as you wiped your sweaty palms off on your knees. You didn't feel this nervous when you were ogling him on the internet, but now that you were here, all the nerves came crashing down. Each time the door to the appointment rooms creaked open, and some different nurse walked into the waiting area, you held your breath before they ultimately called a name that wasn't yours.

After about fifteen minutes past your scheduled time, your nerves had gone down significantly from all of the waiting. You were just about to pull out your phone for the first time that day and play some mobile game to pass the time when the awaited door opened once more, and a tall nurse with long black hair and dark eyes stepped into the room.

She was wearing a tightly fitted mid-thigh length white dress, the sleeves reached to her wrists, but she had rolled them up to her elbows. Her long black hair was pulled half up in a bun, and her side bangs were pulled out from the bun to fall around her face. The rest of her dark strands ran down her back, some cascaded off of her shoulders and rested deliciously against her chest. The low neck of the dress allowed you to get an eyeful of her cleavage that seemed to glow under the yellow lights; you gazed at her collarbones and her slender neck as her dark hair contrasted beautifully against her pale skin.

You could stare at her forever, your gaze dropped down to legs, her thighs were lined in dark tights that made her skin look like silk, your eyes continued in their path down her body until you reached her feet, which stood in delicate-looking black heels—not too too tall— and they made her ankles look so delicious. Her gaze was down on the clipboard she held it against her arm, reading the patient's name mentally before she looked up from under her lashes and scanned around the room and called out your name.

You swore you were the universe's favorite child. First, you had found the hottest man you've ever seen in your life to be your doctor, and his nurse just happened to be the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She called your name again, snapping you out of your stupor and making you slap yourself mentally as you rose to your feet, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you started towards her.

Up close you could see her slanted eyes more clearly, they looked so seductive as she gave you a quick one-over, before she held the door open for you, "Hi sweetheart, we're gonna go to the left." She instructed, to which you just nodded and blushed. She let the door fall shut behind the both of you when you entered, walking past countless diagnosis rooms as she led you to get your measurements. "I haven't seen you here before, is this your first time seeing Dr. Satoru?" She asked, holding her hand out to you to take your bag as she set up the scale for you.

"Oh, y-yeah," You stuttered, trying and failing to meet her sultry eyes as you took off your shoes and placed them to the side of the scale, "I moved here pretty recently so I had to get a new physician." Explained. "I see~" She cooed, mumbling for you to stand straight against the wall so she could get the proper measurements of you before she continued, "Well I'm positive you will love the doctor, He is a very thorough and knowledgeable man." You tensed when you felt her hands graze the top of your head as she brought the leveler down against you to get your height.

"Go ahead and step up here for me." She said, to which you complied, stepping on the scale. "Have you been working for him long?" You asked, making her giggle; the sound was music to your ears. "Ah, funny you ask." She said, jotting down the numbers on the screen in front of her before you stepped down and started pulling your shoes back on. "We have actually been friends since high school." She smiled, tilting her head at you and making her hair drape across her pale face.

You didn't know who you were more jealous of—Dr. Gojo, for being around this woman for god knows how many years of his life, or This woman in front of you, for being around Gojo for all the years of her life. You knew Gojo was about 10 years your senior, so you guessed it must've been the same for her. Not like you would've been able to tell, her skin was almost completely void of any wrinkles or blemishes, she looked like she could be your age if not for her more mature demeanor.

"Wow! That's so cool that you ended up working together! It must be fun." You exclaimed, taking your bag from her as you started for the more private room she would take you to meet the doctor. "It can be." She said, shaking her head with a smile, "He is.. a character for sure." Her subtle insult of him made you laugh. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable wherever, i'm just going to ask you a couple questions and perform some basic tests on you before I go get him." She explained, "Oh, you can call me Geto by the way, seeing your fresh new face caught me off guard earlier, forgive me." She said, smiling sweetly at you.

That made you gulp, hard. You had caught her off guard? Your head was spinning. She had no idea what she just did to your ego. Geto.. you repeated her name in your head a couple times, loving the way it rolled off your mental tongue. She giggled, "That's my name~" Your jaw dropped. You swore you had said it in your head, but obviously not as she glanced at you briefly with a smile before going back to pull up your records. You pulled your lip between your teeth in embarrassment before you spoke. "S-sorry, it's- you have a pretty name." You stuttered.

She gazed up from her screen and looked over your form as you looked around the room, she couldn't help but think of how cute you looked when you were embarrassed. "Well thank you," she said, finally succeeding in pulling up your records. "You know, it's so nice to have a patient that isn't geriatric, not that I don't love all the old geezers out there." She giggled, "It's just refreshing, I'm glad you chose Satoru." She said honestly, making you blush as you connected your eyes with hers. "Glad I could help," you responded, the both of you keeping your eyes on the other while you spoke.

After a couple beats of silence, she broke eye contact and manipulated the large computer so it was in front of her, "Alright~ It seems you're pretty healthy by looking at your records, just gonna ask you to confirm your date of birth for me before we continue." She asked, looking at you once more and smiling in approval when you answered quickly, "Good girl." Her smooth voice echoed her words in your head, making you clench your thighs together on the too-hard chair you sat on.

After she asked you a couple more standard questions she started gathering the blood pressure and heartrate tools to finish up your standard check-in details. She stood up from her chair and waltzed over to where you sat, her hips swaying as she walked, stopping right in front of you. "Is it alright if I roll up your sleeve?" She asked, waiting for your consent before she wrapped the hard plastic around your arm. "Thank you, sweetheart, relax your legs for me as well, and stick out your finger, please." She asked as she clamped the heartrate monitor on your finger.

She took a step back and put her hand on her hips, watching the numbers appear on the little screens of the tools. A smile appeared on her face before she removed the clamp from your finger, "Do I make you nervous?" She asked, catching you off guard and making your eyes shoot up to meet hers. "Uh," you laughed nervously, "I'm only kidding~" She said, removing the plastic from your arm, the back of her hand grazing against your breast as she did so, leaving your skin feeling like it was buzzing where she touched you. "Your heart rate is just a little high~" Geto explained.

"Oh, I guess I am a little nervous." You admitted shyly, rubbing your sweaty hands against your knees once more. "Aww~ Don't be nervous sweet thing, me and the doctor have your best interests at heart trust me~" She cooed, succeeding in easing your nerves slightly. "So, last question for the doctor, what brings you in today? Standart check-up stuff, or something else?" She asked, tipping her head at you as she waited for you to respond.

At this point, you were semi-regretting your choice to pick a hot doctor with a coincidental hot nurse at the embarrassment you felt from just thinking about telling them you wanted to go on birth control. Maybe you should've chosen one of those old-looking doctors. What if you had hemorrhoids one day? Or had a nasty rash you needed to get looked at? You didn't want these beautiful people to know about that!

You took a deep breath before you spoke, "I uh, was wanting to go on birth control." You said. "Ohh~ smart girl." She perked up, "Did you want to get STI or STD tested while you were here? It's super quick." She offered. "Oh! nono, I uh, I'm not currently.. sexually active." You responded. You were too busy looking at the floor mortified to notice how her eyes lit up upon the revelation that you currently had no sexual partner.

"Oh I see, we can skip the test then~" She said, jotting down the final notes into your chart before she stood, smoothing her dress down her thighs as she rose to her feet. "Alright sweetheart, Ill be right back with the doctor." She winked, making your mouth run dry as you nodded shortly at her. You couldnt stop your eyes from dropping to her ass, watching her hips move as she walked out of the room and gently shut the door behind her.

The second you were alone, you dropped your head into your hands and sighed, your face turning an impossibly darker shade of crimson. You should not be as aroused as you were but she was definitely flirting, right? You had a horrible radar for this kind of thing. Her flirty personality might be just that, her personality, but it seemed more than that. You heaved out a louder sigh, repeating your interactions with her over and over in your head a thousand times as you waited for the doctor.

"Satoruuu, patient time." Geto knocked on his office, making the white-haired man groan and drop his legs onto the floor from where they were splayed out on his desk. "I love my job, but I don't know how many more old geezers with cholesterol problems I can take." He sighed, throwing on his white coat to give him an air of professionalism before he started for the door. The man was halted in his tracks when Geto gave him a squinted look, "Just a second, Satoru." She said, pushing his chest back into his office and shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, Suguru look, I'm flattered~ Truly~" Gojo started, placing the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically. "Ew, no, it's about the patient," Geto said, rolling her eyes at her obnoxious best friend's antics. He dropped his hand to his hips, tilting his head at her as he waited for her to speak, "I think you're really going to like this one, shes new," Geto said, raising her eyebrows. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but I'm not into women who are 50-plus years older than me." He sighed, his face tuning into a scowel as he dismissed Geto.

"You're impossible," She sighed, rubbing her temples. Gojo never listened to a thing anyone says, trying to talk to him was like communicating with a brick wall. "She's young, Gojo; twenty; and she wants your help to get her on birth control." She said, watching the color come back to Gojo's face as she spoke. "If you're lying Ill tell the superiors you forged a drug test." He said, all too seriously, making Suguru laugh. "She's a cute one too, just come see for yourself." She giggled, fixing her hair in the mirror on Gojo's door before she opened it and walked into the hallway, Satoru right on her tail, bouncing with excitement.

You lifted your head from your knees and wiped the stray hairs from your face when you heard a knock on your door. Your heart immediately started pounding out of your chest. Good thing you were at a hospital right now because you seriously thought you were going to have a heart attack at any second.

When the door cracked open, the first thing you saw was his white hair peeking through the door, his cruelian eyes next, as they made searing contact with yours. He was so much taller than you imagined, he must've been well over 6 ft tall as he had to duck his head to enter the room. His shirt looked all too small for his chest, the buttons that adorned it were threatening to burst if he moved too suddenly. You could see his bulging muscles through his slacks and his white doctor's jacket alike, making you swallow the saliva that pooled in your mouth, threatening to spill over your lips.

When he was full inside, Geto's familiar face was revealed to you as she slipped in behind him. You couldn't tell if her presence set you more on edge, or comforted you with how fast your heart was racing. "Well hello there." The handsome man said your name and the word has never sounded better when it rolled off his tongue, "Nurse Geto told me this is your first time seeing me," He smiled fondly at you, showing off his impossibly white teeth, "Although I could come to that conclusion myself, I would remember someone like you." He said, making your mouth run dry.

"My name is Dr. Gojo Satoru, its a pleasure to meet you." He said, squinting his eyes as he smiled at you and stuck his large hand out for you to shake. His hand almost entirely covered yours when he shook it, the heat radiating from his hand alone seemed to warm your entire body from the couple of seconds of contact.

"I-its nice to meet you too." You said through a shaky voice, trying your best to keep eye contact with his intimidating gaze. "Nurse Geto will just be here to take notes, is that alright?" He asked, sitting on the chair Geto sat at before, placed in front of the big computer. You shook your head, signaling your approval before you gazed away from him and made eye contact with her comforting face.

"Alright let's get down to business ~" He clapped his hands together before dragging two big fingers over the mousepad and looking briefly over your chart. "You're here to talk about birth control right?" He checked, raising his eyebrow at you as he looked over your body quickly before you looked back at him. "Yes, I've never used any form of contraceptives before, so.. I'm not really sure what all the methods are." This confession made Gojo's eyebrows shoot up.

"Ohhh ballsy~" He said before continuing, "You really should at least use a condom during sex, they protect against many forms of STD's and largely prevent unwanted pregnancies." He explained, interlacing his fingers together in his lap. "Has Nurse Geto already offered the STD screeding today?" He asked. "Oh, no I think you misunderstand, Ive never.." You paused, and he smiled and nodded at your words, encouraging you to continue, "I've never needed contraceptives because I haven't had sex before, but I've recently been attending college for the first time so I thought It might be smart to start now, you never know what might happen." You explained, looking away from his glowing eyes.

"Ah, good girl, that's a very responsible decision." He praised. What was with these people and their flirty personalities? You felt like your face was going to explode with how hot it was. Geto hummed in agreement in the background, making you look between the two of them. "Well, lucky for you my dear, we have manyy~ options available for you." He dragged in his chipper voice. "I'll make sure you leave with some condoms today, Geto will provide those for you at the end of your appointment, so you'll be covered there." He said, making you smile and nod in appreciation.

"But for the big guns, we have the pill, which is most common but typically has the most intense side effects." Your face scrunched up at the sound of side effects, yuck. He explained a couple more options, Nexplanon; an implant that would go in your arm, which made you cringe, A shot you would get once every three months; which sounded annoying, and an IUD, which would essentially get shoved into your cervix via some overworked and mean woman who doesnt care about your general well being and just wants to go home to sleep.

He laughed at your face when you stared at your feet with an expression of disgust. "You don't seem very thrilled with any of the options." He said, rolling his chair over to yours as he caressed his big hand over your back. This was a lot more to take in than you thought. "Am I supposed to be?" You asked, looking up at your lashes at his face that was far too close for comfort, yet you wouldn't dare tell him to move. Geto laughed at your response, "Absolutely not, being a woman is hell, and they aren't going to make it any easier by giving us some nice, painless out of getting pregnant." She said, making your sigh.

As intimidating as these two were, you felt strangely comfortable talking to them about this, especially with how real they were being. Geto was clearly not afraid to give you the cold hard truth and not sugar coat anything. "Are you on birth control?" You aked Geto, quickly putting your arms out in front of you as your face heated up, "I am so sorry! You don't have to answer that!" You panicked, making the both of them giggle.

"It's alright sweetie, Id be more than happy to tell you. Talking to another woman about their own experience with certain forms of birth control can help you make your own informed decision." She smiled. You don't think you've ever wanted to fuck a woman so bad in your life. You mentally slapped yourself from getting aroused at her explaining birth control to you, but the way she was being so supportive made your stomach do flips.

"And you definitely don't need to make a decision today," Gojo added, removing his hand from your back as he sat back into his chair, spreading his legs out wide. "Doctor Gojo is right," Geto added, before she rose to her feet and walked over to where you sat before sitting down next to you herself and placing her hand on your knee.

"As for your question, I used to be on the pill, but taking it every day at the same time got tedious, so I got an IUD and it was the best decision I ever made." She said, rubbing her hand over your knee in a way that you assume was supposed to be comforting but it just heightened your arousal if anything. She leaned in till her mouth was right against your ear and whispered, "The best part is your partner can come inside and you don't even have to think about it." She giggled, pulling back her hand from your leg as she stood up and got back into her place behind Gojo's seat.

So that was flirting, right? She was 100% flirting right there, there was no doubt in your mind. "No secrets," Gojo whined, pouting at Geto while she stuck her tongue out at him. You couldn't even pay attention to the banter between them as your ear was still tingling from where she whispered into it.

"I-I think the IUD sounds good." You said, making Geto giggle. "Did what I tell you help you come to that conclusion?" She asked, Once again making Gojo beg for her to tell him what she said. "Geeez." She said, shooing Gojo off of her with her hand, "I just let her know that she doesn't have to worry if her partner comes inside her." She said, making a grin plaster itself over Gojo's handsome features.

"Ohh" He cooed, "Yeah that is a nice perk." The white-haired man said, rolling his chair away from Geto's personal space. "Does that sound like something you're interested in?" The handsome doctor asked, making you choke on your saliva. "H-huh, I uh, I don't know, It sounds like it could be nice.." You said under your breath. "A IUD sounds like it could be nice?" He repeated, making you freeze as you realized you misunderstood his question. Of course he wasn't asking you if you wanted to get cream pied, for fuck's sake. You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole right now.

Geto snickered under her breath, a light blush coating her face at your confession. "Well, it is nice, She's not wrong." The dark-haired woman added, making your embarrassment worse as you hid your face in your hands. "Ughhhh.. sorry." Your muffled voice came through your hands, making Gojo laugh softly. "It's okay, no one is judging here." He said, taking the opportunity to once again study your body under his intense gaze as your eyes were obstructed.

You took a deep breath before dropping your hands into your lap, intertwining your fingers as you twiddled with your thumbs. "I'll make a follow-up appointment for a week from now to give you some time to think about it." He said, changing the subject so as to not embarrass you any further. Geto typed some notes down into her laptop from behind him while Gojo scrolled through your chart. He made sure you had no other questions regarding the topic before he continued.

"Alright, so It says here in your chart that your last physical exam was over three years ago, is that right?" He asked you, "Yes, that's right." you replied, noticing how he tsked at your answer. "You really should be making regualr visits to the doctor~" He cooed, wiggling his long finger out in front of him. "When was the last time you had a breast exam? Im not seeing any notes about that in your chart either." He said, scrolling on the computer.

You bit your lip before answering, "I uh, I've never gotten a.. a breast exam." You said, making both Geto and Gojo turn their heads to look at you. "Oh honey, those are so important you know, you should be checking yourself yearly after you turn 18." Geto explained. You knew she was right but it sounded so embarrassing. You remember trying it yourself once, following the guide of som video years ago, but you had no idea what you were feeling for, and the thought of some doctor doing it for you made you even more nervous, so you just abandoned the thought.

"I tried myself after we learned about it in high school but.. I didn't know how to do it, and it seemed so humiliating to ask my doctor to help me." You said, making brief eye contact with the two before you looked around the room, avoiding their eyes. Geto and Gojo simultaneously bit their lip, their faces heating up at your innocent confession before the white-haired man spoke up. "Honey, that's what we're here for, you should never feel embarrassed for keeping yourself healthy." He cooed, standing from his seat as his long legs took him over to the cupboards, where he pulled out a white gown.

"Go ahead and put this on, we'll leave the room to give you some privacy." He explained, putting the white cloth in your hands. "We can do your breast exam today, along with your other physical exam testing." He said, smiling at you warmly before he tipped his head at Geto and signaled for the two of them to leave. You waited until the door clicked shut before you stood. You looked around the room before you started undressing.

You pulled off all of your clothes, save for your panties, which you couldn't help but notice that you had completely soaked through. You hoped they wouldn't somehow notice during the exam, you would be absolutely mortified. You folded your clothes and placed them on the empty chair next to your bag, while you waited with a racing heart for them to re-enter the room.

Gojo and Geto had moved just a couple feet down the hall, leaning against opposite sides of the wall next to the window while they waited. "Good call on bringing up the breast exam," Geto spoke through the silence, which made him sigh in relief as Gojo's body relaxed, dropping his arms by his side. "Oh I'm so glad you said something, I thought it was pretty smart." He giggled mischievously.

"So what do you think of her?" Geto asked, twirling a dark strand of her hair around her manicured fingers. "She's fucking adorable, I just wanna bend her over the exam table and fuck the life outta her." Gojo wined, tipping his head back against the wall. Geto laughed in response, wholeheartedly agreeing with her perverted best friend.

"I'm so glad this ridiculously long coat covers my crotch, I've been so unbelievably hard from the second I laid eyes on her." Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair before he stared down at his crotch. "Wouldn't wanna scare her away now." Geto laughed, following his gaze down to his covered crotch and nodding in approval when she couldn't see the massive tent he was sporting through the cover of it.

The two of them would feel bad about talking about a clueless patient like this, but you were so fun to tease, and you were just too fucking cute that it overwhelmed any rational thinking from them. The two friends truly did share a brain cell when they were around you. "Yeah, I hear you, I wonder if she's into women, I would love to see her doe eyes looking up at me while I sit on her face." She day dreams, huffing out a sigh of her own.

"Oh, are you kidding?" Gojo laughed, "Did you see the way she clenched her thighs when you put your hand on her knee? She definitely swings both ways." The two of them gossiped for a couple minutes like their high school days, before Geto got a glimpse of the time on Gojo's watch. "She's probably done now don't you think?" Geto said, tapping her heel against the floor. "Yeah, it's time." Gojo smiled, giving Geto a sneaky fist bump before they made their way back to your room.

You held the fabric closer to your body when you heard them knock on the door. Once you verbalized that they could come inside, the door squeaked open, and they stepped into your space once more. "Oh my god thank you for folding your clothes so neatly." Geto sighed, holding her hand over her chest while she spoke. "I swear these old babies just leave their clothes all over the floor like children, then ask me to clean it up after." She sighed, referring to the old patients they saw all too often.

Her relief made you laugh, easing your nerves a bit as you waved your hand in front of you, telling her it was no problem. "Alright, go ahead and sit up here for me." Doctor Gojo spoke, patting his hand on the parchment lined exam bed in the middle of the room. You raised to your feet, holding the back of the gown shut behind your ass as you climbed onto the bed and sat down.

Gojo stood inches from his pelvis touching your knees as he gripped the rubber reflex hammer in his massive hand, making it look dwarfed. Geto walked around him and sat in one of the chairs that gave her the best view, bringing her laptop with her to disguise her perverted antics as work. "Is it alright if I touch you?" Gojo asked, looking into your eyes as he waited for his answer.

To your own surprise, you were able to keep contact with them as you nodded shyly, and dropped your gaze to his hand as it started for your knee. You twitched instinctively when his warm hand cradled the underside of your knee before smoothing it around to the front and gently pushing the fabric of the gown up so he could have a better view of what he was doing.

He pressed his palm flat against your thigh, right above your knee, and hit the rubber against your knee, making it kick up reflexively as you kicked against his shin lightly. "Oh- sorry doctor." You apologized. "Don't be, sweetheart." He laughed, "It's not like you can control it." He said. He then instructed you to scoot against the edge of the bed so he could press his stethoscope against various parts of your torso.

"This might be a little cold." He warned before his big hand came to stabilize your lower back as he pressed the cold metal agaisnt the skin on your back, making you tense up at the touch. He apologized and continued pressing the stethescope over specific points on your back as he had you inhale deeply for him. "Thats right, just like that." He praised when you listende obediantly to his instruction, making your face flush, something Geto did not miss as she sat in front of you with a perfect veiw of your entire body.

His warm hand made your skin feel like it was on fire, you pulled your lip between your teeth when his hand moved lower on your back, as did his stethoscope. His body was so close to yours, your knees practically pressed against his waist.

“Your heart is racing~” he teased, pulling away entirely as he spoke some numbers to Geto, making her type them down on her laptop. “It’s been a while..” you laughed awkwardly. “Since someone touched you?” he said, making every hair on your body stand on edge. “S-since I’ve been to the doctor, I mean..” you clarified, cleaning your throat as you avoided his eyes which were staring straight through yours. The white-haired man smiled at your response before he leaned back, removing his touch from your body.

"Right," He said before he hung his stethescope back around his neck. "Are you ready for the breast exam?" He asked, which mad you clench your thighs together at what was to come. "I uh.. I think so, but I have a question." You said, staring up at his face that seemed to be beaming with excitement. "Is there any way that Nurse Geto could um.. do the exam?" You asked, embarrassment laced in your tone. "I don't mean to offend you, its just, she's.." You stuttered.

If you had been paying attention you would've seen the way the light drained from Gojo's face, as he tried his best to maintain his smile. "Absolutely!" Geto perked, standing from her chair as she placed her hand on Gojo's shoulder, pushing him out of the way. "I would be more than happy to take over." She said kindly, giving Gojo a smug look over her shoulder before walking past him.

"Thats. Perfectly. Fine!" Gojo grit through his faux smile, his eye twitching at the fact that Geto got to touch you before him. If it were any other nurse he would've been fine with it. Sure, he still would've been bummed out; but it would've been fine. Only now, because he knew Geto had the same motives as him, it irritated him to no end.

"Do you want me to leave the room too?" He asked, trying to not let the 'sore loser' seep into his tone. He heaved an internal sigh of relief when you shook your head, allowing him to stay in the room. "Alright, I'm going to draw this curtain for some privacy, then we can get to it." She said, making you bite your lip and nod at her, as you held eye contact with her dark eyes. You watched with bated breath as she drew the curtain between the two of you, and the doctor.

Unbeknownst to you, she had sent the man on the other side one last smug look before she closed the curtain. Once she secured it to the hook on the wall, she turned to face you, holding her hands together in front of her. "Alright sweetie, whenever you're ready, you can remove your gown." Her smooth voice echoed into the room. Gojo had made himself comfortable leaning against the wall, his head tipped back against it as he bit his lip and tried to quiet his own pounding heart enough to listen to what was happening just a couple feet from him.

You held the fabric over your chest, getting a hold of your nerves before you slid it down your arms. Geto kept her eyes on your face, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. She did however get a peek of them through her prerephrial vision, which would suffice for now. "Do you prefer to sit or stand for this?" She asks, already looking into your eyes when you look back to her. "I- I think I'll sit, if that's okay." You replied. You seriously didn't know if your legs would hold up if you were to stand right now, they were already trembling and she hadnt even done anythng yet.

She stepped into your space, slotting herself between your knees and up against the hospital bed as she released her fingers from one another, coming to rest on the side of the bed. "I'm going to start now, okay?" She said, smiling when you nodded at her.

You knew you weren't going crazy, something was here, it had to be. The air felt so thick, it felt so hard to breathe with her so close. On top of that, you didn't think you'd ever been so turned on in your life. The throbbing between your legs and the heat that was pooling in your belly was almost unbearable. Your bare chest was out for her eyes; and soon her hands; to feast upon. Your nipples had pebbled from being so exposed, and you could feel the goosebumps that spread along your arms while you held your breath, and watched her reach her hands out to touch you.

When her warm hands made contact with your skin you gasped, quickly pressing your lips together as a crimson blush spread itself darker along your face. "You okay?" She asked, beginning to massage your breasts in her hands. "M-mhm" You answered, looking away from her intimidating gaze and opting to look at the floor while she squished and squeezed your breasts in her hands.

When she made sure she wouldn't be caught looking, she dropped her gaze to your breasts. She felt her cunt pulse around nothing when the view of your completely unobstructed tits registered in her brain. She quickly licked her lips, trying to snap herself out of the trance she was in and focus on the task at hand.

On the other side of the curtain, Gojo had his palm pressed over his mouth, his head still tipped back against the wall as his other was rubbing himself slowly over his slacks. His head was spinning listening to the little gasps and whines you made, he wished so badly that he was the one making you make all those sounds; what he wouldn't give to see your face right now.

His legs threatened to buckle underneath him the longer he stroked himself, he knew he shouldn't be doing this but the only other person who would ever know about this was Geto, and he knew she would take it to the grave.

A loud moan emanating from the other side of the curtain made him freeze. "Sorry honey, did that hurt?" Geto asked in her sultry voice, quickly looking back up to your eyes to avoid being caught ogling your tits. "N-no, didn't.. didn't hurt." You said, looking up at her from underneath your eyelashes. "Mmm.. just sensitive, huh?" She asked, pouting her bottom lip at you as she continued massaging your breasts in her hands.

She resisted the urge to squeeze her thighs together, taking a deep breath to calm herself when you nodded. "Mine are the same too, I get it." She admitted, making you rub your thighs together. "They feel quite healthy tho, no lumps or anything feeling concerning." She said, bringing the more professional side of things back into play before she lost her cool and kissed you. Gojo was so close to ripping back the curtain to see what was happening, but now more than ever was a time that he needed to exercise patience.

"A-are you sure?" You said, you really didn't want her to stop touching you, it made your cunt pulse whenever she squished your breasts in her hands. "Well.. I'm not as experienced as the doctor.." She drawled, making Gojo remove his hand from his cock as he perked up. "If you're okay with it, we could get a second opinion." She offered, to which you nodded eagerly. She laughed at your enthusiasm before she replied, "Okay, Ill go ahead and let Doctor Gojo in." She smiled, before turning around to untie the curtain from the wall.

You weren't thinking rationally at this point, your brain was feeling foggy and your body was plagued with the need for release. You were no longer as embarrassed as you were before as you sat patiently on the bed and waited for the doctor.

Gojo straightened his coat in front of himself once more when Geto cracked open the curtain for him. She shook her head when she noticed how flushed and out of it he looked, making a vague gesture to his hair, telling him to fix it before he presented himself to you.

After the man ran his hands through his soft hair a couple of times— and after receiving a nod of approval from Geto— he made peeked his head inside, and let Geto shut the cloth behind him, tying it to the wall once more to block them off from the rest of the room.

Gojo smiled at you, internally screaming as your eyes made contact with his, meaning he couldn’t peek a look at your bare chest that sat right in front of him, practically begging for him to touch it. “Well hello again, I hope you’ve been well~” he said, easing the palpable tension in the space before he made his way in front of you.

“Heard you wanted a second opinion, hm?” He asked, tilting his head while he smiled at you. “Y-yeah, just in case.. yknow,” you said under your breath. The both of them saw through your lie. They were all picking up on the same tension you felt, and Gojo was well aware that Geto was more than familiar with giving breast exams adequately, she had never asked Gojo for a second opinion before.

“Alright, let’s see.” Gojo whispered before he pushed himself in the same position Geto was before him, right between your legs, as she watched him ‘work’ from the side. As much as Geto loved touching your herself, it made it hard to look at your breasts while she did, so now that Gojo was ‘double checking’ her work, she had the perfect excuse to watch.

You bit your lip between your teeth and looked down at his hands when you felt his larger palms make contact with your breasts. You were unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together as subtly as possible, although not quite subtle enough. Geto’s watchful eyes picked up on your shifting, she watched you cross your ankles together and your spine stiffen while Gojo worked his hands on you.

"Mph-" Your muffled moans vibrated agains your lips as you tried your best to hold back. "Hmm~" Gojo hummed, furrowing his eyebrows together. "Something wrong?" Geto asked, uncrossing her arms from where she stood. "Maybe.. feel this spot right here for me." Gojo asked, moving his hand off of your right breast and letting Geto step into your space. Your body jolted when her cold fingers wrapped around your breast and squeezed roughly while Gojo's hand was still at work on your other.

"Mmm feels a little tender," She said, pouting her bottom lip out. "I-is that bad?" You asked, looking up at her while she watched your breast move under the manipulation of her hand. "How often do you venture up here?" She asked, keeping her eyes on yours while she spoke. "N-not often." You asked, making Gojo and Geto shake their heads in unison. "Thats no good~ Its good to keep the blood moving up here every once in a while." Gojo chastised, giving your tit a particularly hard squeeze.

"It's sooo easy too." Geto continued, leaning into your ear, "You can do it when you're all alone.. getting ready for bed.." Her whispers made your breath pick up, your choked breaths were freely flowing into the air as the two of them massaged your chest. This was no longer about a breast exam, and the three of you knew it. "Touching your nipples is soo good for the blood flow too~" She continued her teasing, pinching your hard bud between her index finger and thumb.

"Anyways~" She said suddenly, removing her hand completely and backing up from you after rolling your nipple between her fingers for a few seconds. Gojo copied her, pulling his hand away from your skin and placing it on his hip as he faced his body towards the dark-haired nurse, "I didn't feel anything abnormal, so I think we've checked all our bases." She said, winking at Gojo, signaling for him to go along with it.

"Oh yeah, I think you're right, they felt veeerry healthy to me," Gojo responded, dragging out his words. You started panicking internally, it couldn't be over already, could it? Had this all really just been professional? Including the stuff Geto just said? Your body was on fire, you were feeling drunk already and they had barely touched you, there was no way it stopped here. "W-wait, that was s-so fast, are you sure you checked thoroughly enough?" You asked, trying and failing to keep the need out of your voice.

"I mean, both of us are pretty experienced with this kind of thing.. and we didn't feel anything wrong, you worried we missed something?" Gojo asked, smirking when you nodded a little too quickly. "Are you sure?" He asked, making you tilt your head in confusion, "Sure about what?" You asked, pulling up the cloth to cover your breasts as you waited for him to speak. "Are you sure you're worried we missed something?" He asked, making Geto cover her mouth with a snicker, before she slapped his shoulder.

"I-yes, w-why else.." You bait, swallowing hard as you try to breathe in the heavy air in the room. "Well~" The white-haired doctor started as he slowly turned his body to face you once more, looking you up and down before he started making his way over to you. The two of you kept eye contact with one another up until he was between your legs again, his big hand came up to push your hand that was holding the gown over your chest down into your lap.

"I know getting your chest played with can feel erotic." He said, curling his lips in on themselves before he reached his hand out for your chest once more, and engulfed your tit in his hand. "Could that be why you don't want us to stop?" He said, tilting his head down at you as he tried to make you look at his eyes again. Your jaw dropped open as soft moans slipped from your tongue and out into the small room around you.

Geto came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her head against her shoulder as she looked at you, "Dont lie~" She added, giving you a sinister smile disguised as a sweet one. You took a deep breath, looking between the two of them before you nodded. "Fucking knew it~" Geto cooed, her smile becoming toothy as she released her hold around Gojo and slid between the two of you, sliding her hands under the thin gown against your upper thighs.

Gojo could be heard pouting out a "hey.." from behind the two of you. She leaned in close to your face, her sweet perfume clouding your senses. She licked her lips and gripped your thighs in her hands. "You like me?" She asked, pressing her shiny lips together in a smile. You breathed out a needy 'yes' against her lips, looking up between her eyes and her mouth. "Is this okay?" You asked.

You knew this wasn't exactly standard practice in.. well.. anywhere. And they were absolutely breaking every code in the book right now, but between the three of you, not one of you cared. "Is it okay?" She asked, scrunching her eyebrows at you. "Were all adults here." Gojo smiled, sitting against the arm of the chair as he watched the two of you.

When you nodded, Geto's lips were on yours. "Mmm! Mph-" You moaned against her lips when she wasted no time in making her tongue home in your mouth, she slid her hands to your waist and pulled you against her so you were pelvis to pelvis. "Gotta be quiet for me, okay?" She whispered in between kisses.

You nodded, vocalizing an 'uh-huh" aginst her lips before she climbed on top of you, pressing her knee against your cunt while she kissed you hungrily. You squeezed your thighs around hers, your knee simultaneously bumping against her mound, your leg pushing her dress up her thighs as exposing her panties to your hungry eyes.

"Fuck, this is so fucking hot." Gojo groaned, you cracked your eyes open and looked at him out of the corner of your eye, Geto took the opportunity to grip the bottom half of your face in her hand and tilted it to the side, facing Gojo, as she brought her lips down to your neck and started kissing and sucking the skin there. "Keep your eyes on him, sure hes jerking off right about now." She giggled against your neck, her other hand touching freely over your body.

Her intuition was spot on, the white-haired man was groping himself over his pants, and his white doctor's jacket had been discarded on the chair he was leaning against as he watched the show in front of him.

“D-Doctor Gojo,” you whined, squeezing your thighs harder around Geto’s leg as your arousal spiked watching him jerk off. “You like watchin me baby?” he asked, a drunken smile plastering itself on his face. “Y-yes” you replied, making him put his full weight on his feet as he walked towards you.

“Bet you’ll like touchin me even more.” The white haired man came up on the side of you and held your head in his hand as he pressed his thighs against the bed the two of you were on. Gojo reached for your hand and made you palm him over his pants while Geto turned your head back to her and kissed you once more.

The man’s big hand groped over yours and aided you in touching his cock through his slacks while Geto moaned into your mouth. He felt absolutely massive under your hand, you doubted even Gojo himself could wrap his hand completely around his cock. “Oh good fucking girl.” He praised, biting his lip while he watched the two of you go at it like animals.

Geto dropped her hand from your face and used it to massage your tit once more, paying more attention to your nipple now that she could stop disguising her shameless groping as a breast exam. "You're so sensitive here I don't know how you held out for so long." She teased, pulling her mouth back with a wet sound as she watched your face contort under her hands ministrations against your chest.

Your other hand came up to press her hand against hers, silently telling her not to stop. "Oh yeah? You like that?" She moaned, smiling at your silent plea. "Don't worry baby, Ill make you feel even better." She promised, using the tip of her middle finger to rub around the areola of your nipple, making your hips push up against her knee.

"We" Gojo corrected the dark-haired woman. "We will make you feel even better." The woman laughed, moving her eyes to focus on Gojo's while she leaned down against your chest and sucked the little bud into her mouth. She chose not to respond and instead oped to close her eyes as she hummed around your warm nipple, rolling and sucking it into her mouth, making sure to spend extra attention to the tip of your nipple with her tongue.

Gojo watched your body jerk and squirm against the bed while she alternated between your sensitive nipples; she used her other hand to grope the tit her mouth wasn't on, making sure it didn't feel lonely. Your hand went slack against his crotch, giving Gojo the time to pull away before he was unzipping his pants and pulling his cock through the hole in his boxers.

You moaned sharply when you felt him press your hand around something warm and hard. You instinctively wrapped your hand around it, making him coo at you as you looked over to watch what you were doing. "Yesss, stroke my dick, pretty girl." He smiled, using his big hand to run his fingers through your hair while you slowly and unsurely gave the handsome doctor a handjob.

Geto popped off of your tits after a while, staring down at her work as she admired the light purple hickeys that decorated your breasts along with your swollen nipples from all her sucking. "So fucking pretty," She praised, making Gojo hum in agreement. "I would looove to suck your tits all day, but your cunt has been pulsing against my knee for so fucking long I cant take it anymore." She said, crawling off from on top of you and sliding your panties down your thighs with her.

"Fuck yess." Gojo moaned, biting his lip. He really had no romantic interest in Geto, but you were both undeniably hot, and the thought of watching her eating you out and her making you cum on her tongue in front of him made his dick throb in your grip. "Pervert." Geto smiled smugly, rolling her eyes. "I'm only a man." He said, making her giggle as she pulled your body once more, to the edge of the bed. "W-what are you gonna do." You asked, looking down at the woman between your legs before looking over to the white-haired man on your side.

"Im gonna eat your pussy while you suck Doctor Gojo off, that sound okay to you guys?" She asked, smiling sweetly between the two of you. Both you and Gojo nodded quickly at her proposition, "I can't think of a better idea myself." He responded, dropping his other hand down to caress the head of his best friend. She rolled her eyes at his dramatics before she slung your thighs around her head, kneeling on the steps below the bed.

"You ever squirted before?" She asked you, making you sit up slightly to look at her, "N-no." You answered, making her smile mischievously before she bit your thigh hard, pulling the skin back before releasing it, "You will." She responded confidently. You had no doubt in your mind that she wouldn't. You turned your head back to the doctor, watching your hand stroke his cock while Geto had her way with your thighs.

"You ever sucked a cock before?" He asked, caressing your head comfortingly. His brain short-circled when he watched you look up at him from under your lashes, your doe eyes looking glassy, "Not one as big as yours." You said, dropping your eyes back down to his length. You thought dicks like his only existed in porn. You swallowed hard thinking about how you were going to fit him in your mouth. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you." He assured, his abs clenchedwhen you rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the wetness down the length of his cock.

He brought himself as close as he could, cradling your head while you stroked his dick right in front of your face, just inches from your mouth. Geto was having the time of her life between your thighs, she was suckinng and biting every last bit of your skin to make sure that every time you looked in the mirror for weeks afterward, you would be reminded of what happened that day.

She brought her mouth closer and closer to where you needed her the most; her teasing making you squeeze your hand around Gojo's cock harder. "Fuck, such a pretty pussy." She mumbled to no one in particular. "If its so pretty, maybe you should eat it already~" Gojo teased, dying to see you squirm on her tongue and feel you moan around his cock while she ate you out.

Geto was constantly bragging to Gojo about her skilled tongue in bed, having seemingly endless stories about how she made guys and girls alike squirt like a fountain in record-breaking times, he was excited to finally see it in person. "Don't tell me what to do Satoru." She chastized--but listened to him anyways.

She leaned her head down between your legs and gave a precise kitten lick to your little clit, making you jolt. You wished you could watch her, but you had work to do yourself, the feeling of her hands wrapping around your thighs while she ate you out would have to do. You brought your own head closer to Gojo's cock and mimicked her actions on you, against him, kitten licking the tip of his dick.

"Yesss," Gojo groaned with a smile, not knowing where he wanted to look more as his eyes darted between your lips that were slowly but surely wrapping themselves around his cock, or in between your legs, where his best friend shook her head back and forth against your wetness, making your body jerk at the intense pleasure. "Holy shit, you're so fucking sweet." She whined against your cunt, sucking the little neglected bud into her mouth.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at her ministrations, the vibrations from her voice around your clit sent pleasant chills down your spine. Gojo watched with a slack jaw as you bobbed your head further down his dick, using your small hand to smear the spit you were creating down the length of his cock and jerk off what couldn't fit in your mouth from this angle.

You were grateful to have something plugging you up, because Geto's expert tongue was doing wonders for you, and you weren't sure how quiet you could've been without having Gojo's cock in your throat. This all felt like a fuzzy dream to you, because there was absolutely no way you were getting tag-teamed by your new physician and his hot nurse on top of this this hard hospital bed on a Thursday.

Geto's tongue quickly brought you back down to reality when she started drawing quick circles against your clit with her thumb, as she buried her face as deep as possible against you, tongue fucking your cunt and moaning against you shamelessly. "I don't think you're the one we have to worry about staying quiet." Gojo giggled down at you.

She pulled her mouth back from you, heaving air into her lungs as she spoke, "You're saying that without having tasted her." She said, before dropping her tongue back on you. Gojo wasn't sure how long she had been doing it, but at some point, her hand come down to play with her own needy cunt between your legs while she ate you out. He couldn't see exactly what she was doing because of his blocked vision by the table, but he could see her arm was moving rapidly underneath you.

"Must taste r-real good if she has you fingering yourself." Gojo teased, his words coming out in stutters when you tried to take his cock deeper in your throat, resulting in a gag that made your throat constrict around him. She just moaned in response, keeping up the delicious circles on your clit while she drank up every drop of your arousal that you gave her.

You brought your head away from Gojo's cock, popping your lips back with a lewd wet sound. "Y-you're so big D-doctor." You pouted, staring up at the man. He knew it was so wrong, so absolutely twisted, but when he heard you call him 'doctor' in this situation, it made a heavy drop of pre drip onto your hand. "Oh, you're fucking naughty." He giggled, starting to hump his cock in your hand, making obscene 'schlick' sounds emanate around the room.

You let yourself moan freely for a couple of seconds before your mouth was back on him. You made quick circles around the tip of his cock, rotating your tongue against him while making sure to pay special attention to the vein that ran on the underside of his cock. "What a fucking mouth~" He said, letting his jaw fall open as his head tipped back in a moan, trying his hardest not to release his load over your pretty face so soon.

His brain short-circuited when your other hand joined the mix, massaging his balls in the palm of your hand. "Oh fuck- just like that, don't fucking stopp." He moaned, gripping his nails harder against your scalp while you bobbed your head around his cock and played with his heavy balls in your hands with a delicious rhythm.

The truth was, Geto was rapidly bringing you towards what you knew would be a mindblowing orgasm, and you wanted to make Gojo cum before that, so you put all of your brainpower onto pleasuring him while the dark-haired woman between your thighs alternated between sucking your cit and finger fucking you, curling her fingers against your sweet spot; and tongue fucking you while she spelled her name on your clit with her fingers.

"Think she's gonna cum." Geto mumbled against your pussy, making Gojo groan in acknowledgment. "Fuck, I am too." He responded. "So fucking t-tight." She whimpered into your pussy, quickening the speed of the thrusts inside herself as she used the palm of her hand to grind her clit against it. "You gonna let me cum all over your pretty face? Huh?" Gojo asked, scratching his nails over your head.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your watery eyes trying their best not to roll back in your head as you nodded around him, giving your consent. "You're so fucking." thrust "Perfect." He grinned, giggling when you gagged particularly hard against his mean hips.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, you so desperately needed to see Geto’s face before you came; you knew it would push you over the edge. “Oh- S-shit-“ Gojo groaned, “C-can I fuck your throat? I’m so close, promise I’ll be fast.” The thought of him losing control and humping hi cock into your warm mouth sounded like just what you needed right now.

You shook your head to the best of your ability, dropping both hands from his cock as he grabbed your cheek with his other hand, getting a better leverage on you before he started fucking hi cock down your throat. You brought your hands down to the woman’s hair between your legs and dug your nails into her scalp, making her whine into your clit. “Mhm-mhm-“ she hummed against you while you used her head to hump your own hips against her face.

You fought back gag after gag as gojo used your mouth like his own personal flesh light, biting his lip and gritting his teeth while he focused his gaze intently on your lips that were swallowing up his cock. The tears that had welled up in your eyes began to fall down your cheeks at his rough treatment on your throat.

“Good girl, good fucking girl- almost- fuck-“ Gojo groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as his pace grew sloppy on your throat. The lack of oxygen was bringing you closer to your orgasm, but you so desperately wanted to watch him cum before Geto made you cum first.

Gojo fucked the entirety of his cock down your throat, pressing jus balls against your chin while he grit his teeth, feeling himself twitch in your warm mouth. “Fuuuuuck-“ The white haired man groaned, pulling his hips quickly back from your mouth and letting you cough freely as you swallowed air into your lungs.

Your hips pace against Geto’s mouth was sloppy, your body stuttering as you moved while her lips suction cupped around your clit and teased it with her wet tongue. You turned your head to look down at her, making contact with her glassy eyes and her furrowed brows as she nodded at you, moaning against your wetness.

The sight sent you over the edge, you gripped her hair tightly between your fingers, your nails digging into her scalp in unison as you squirted all over her face. She pulled her mouth and hand she was working on herself back as she fucked her fingers directly into your sweet spot while rubbing quickly back and forth over your sensitive clit, making your juices spray on her.

Gojo stroked his cock next to your face furiously, looking down at your pussy as you squirted all over his best friends face. “Fuckk,” he groaned, grabbing your face in his hand he turned your head to look up at him.

Your eyes were foggy and all out of focus from how hard you came, your body still shaking and twitching from the orgasm as Geto’s fingers fucked you through the aftershocks. “Tongue out.” Gojo grit through his teeth, biting his lip when you quickly obeyed.

“S-shit-“ The doctor tipped his head back as his jaw fell slack. He tapped his cockhead on your tongue, laying it flat on it before he stilled his hand. His hot ropes of cum spurted into your mouth as he groaned freely, fucking his hips into his hand as some streaks of his cum landed on your cheeks and hair. “How pretty.” Geto whined from under you; referring to the painting gojo was creating on your face.

Gojo’s body jerked and jolted as he came all over your face, his head tipping forward towards the end of his orgasm as he squeezed his cock up to the tip, making sure he gave you every last drop of his cum. “Shiiiit” the man giggled, watching you lean your head up and suck his tip clean before you pulled back, letting your head fall against the hard bed as you licked his cum off your lips. “Could she be any more perfect?” he said to Geto.

You were too fucked out to notice that Gojo was still hard, even though he just came. Geto stood up from between your legs, sliding her tights and panties off in the process as she kicked them to some corner of the room. “Well let’s find out.” She answered, giving Gojo a quick smirk before she straddled your limp body.

Without so much as saying a word, she grabbed your cum covered face in her hands and licked Gojo’s cum off your cheeks, making you blush. “Cum hungry slut.” Gojo laughed at his best friend's shameless display of lust. “It’s not for me, freak.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Want this cutie to taste herself, and you when I kiss her.” She said, giving you no room to talk as she pressed her lips against yours.

“fuck yeahh~” Gojo laughed, a drunken smile spreading itself over his face while he watched Geto suck your tongue, making you taste yourself mixed with Gojo’s cum. She pulled back after a while, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you stared at her with a fucked out expression, “How does that taste?” she asked, keeping her strong grip on your chin as she awaited your answer.

“‘S fucking good, t-thank you.” you slurred, your own aroused smile spreading across your face. She smiled at you, pressing her lips to yours once more in a sweeter kiss before she pulled back, humming when your hands came to rest on top of her thighs. "I know thats fucking right~" Gojo added, beginning to stroke himself again, shamelessly walking over to the bottom half of your body so he could stare at your soaked pussy and the wetness that was smeared all over your thighs.

"It's missing something though.." You continued, watching your hands stroke along her soft pale thighs. She tilted her head at you, waiting for you to continue. "I didn't taste you." You said. Your sudden bold words made her feel like a dozen butterflies had just been hatched and were bouncing inside her stomach. "Yeah? You wanna taste me?" She said, sitting up straight as she rubbed her fingers over your wet lips.

You opened her mouth for her and she slipped her fingers inside the warmth as you did so, her jaw dropping and a crimson blush spreading across her face at how eagerly you sucked down her fingers. "That's a good idea!" Gojo exclaimed, spreading your thighs apart as he pushed them over his shoulders, making himself home between your legs.

You couldn't see him very well because of Geto straddling you, but you felt his plush lips leave soft kisses and bites against your calf and ankle before you felt something else. His dripping cock head was tapping against your folds as he used one hand to slowly rub his cock back and forth across your wetness. "Wanna eat the pretty nurse out while I fuck your cunt? Huh?" Gojo said, making you hum in approval around Geto's fingers.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous. You had barely been able to take Gojo's cock in your mouth, how on earth would you fit him inside your pussy? "Pretty nurse?" Geto laughed, twisting her body to give Gojo a look of incredulousness. He reached out and squished her soft cheeks in between his hands, shaking her head back and forth a little as he did so, making her face go deadpan. "Yes~ You're such a pretty nurse~" He said, scrunching his nose at her childishly while he did so.

She used her free hand to smack his wrist away before her hand came to rub her own jaw and soothe it from his harsh grip. "I can't stand you," Geto said, rolling her eyes before she flipped her hair in his face, turning her body back to you to watch you suck on her fingers some more. Their banter eased some of the anxiety you were feeling, you were glad they weren't so serious. "And yet you're about to fuck this pretty girl with me~" Gojo cooed, gripping his large hand on the back of her neck as he rubbed his thumb against the skin there.

"I'm separating myself from you at this moment." She said, biting her lip in irritation as she let Gojo massage her neck, unwilling to tell him to stop as the sensation actually felt pleasant. She brought her full attention back down to you, popping her fingers out of her mouth before she crossed her arms over her body and pulled the long sleeve white dress off of her body, discarding it on the floor.

Her breasts bounced animatedly when she removed the fabric, her tits practically spilling out of her bra when she shimmied further up your body, now hovering over your collarbones in nothing but the white bra. You bit your lip as Gojo had begun pressing his cock against your clit and rubbed it in circles, sending pleasure to the both of you.

"Geto please." You wined, your mouth practically drooling with the sight of her cunt being so close to your mouth. "What do you need?" She asked, bringing her fingers wet with your saliva down to rub her clit above you. Gojo shook his head at the scene, stroking himself harder as he continued pressing his cockhead against your little bud. You clenched around nothing at the need to feel him inside you combined with the need to have Geto sit on your face already.

"Wanna eat you out, please." You moaned, wrapping your arms under her thighs as you tried to pull her down on your face. She smiled down at you, feeling herself grow wetter at your words. Gojo wasn't helping in the slightest, he used his thumb to spread your pussy apart and had started to press his tip against your hole, almost letting it slip in before he pulled back. "She sounds so good when she begs," Gojo said, keeping his eyes glued to where the two of you were about to be connected.

"I think so too~" Geto agreed, sliding her fingers down her pussy as she pressed her fingers against her opening, letting them slide inside herself as she tipped her head back. You watched with a slack jaw as she fingered herself on top of you, your mouth watered every time she pulled her fingers out and saw how they were coated with her wetness. "Gojo- Geto- please," You begged, needing to feel some sort of stimulation from someone.

"Gojo p-please fuck me- c-cant take it." you continued, looking between Geto's eyes and her dripping cunt as soft moans fell from her lips and flooded your ears. "Watching her get off is makin' you all horny huh?" He teased, watching your lower body squirm as you tried to press yourself against Gojo and slip his cock inside of you. "Y-yes" You felt the tears start to well up in your eyes with how bad you needed them, the sight made Geto furrow he brows and coo above you.

"Aww, Gojo, she's crying." She said, giggling. The man behind you let out a loud groan as he gripped his cock harder in his hold. "Fuck, really?" He said, his arousal very evident in his tone. "Maybe we should stop teasing her then." He said, pressing his tip harder against your entrance and making you think he was really going to give it to you that time. "Yesyesyes" You slurred, rolling your hips against Gojo as he finally let his tip slide inside you.

You accidentally let out a too-loud moan at the stimulation, making Geto 'tsk' down at you. "Shut her up Suguru, she's gonna get even louder in a minute." Gojo grit through his teeth, holding the base of his cock tightly to prevent him from cumming prematurely as he slid his cock deeper into your walls. Your chest rose and fell quickly the deeper he gave it to you, the ache in your pelvis slowly subsiding.

"Yeah yeah." She said, rolling her eyes before she removed her fingers from herself and licked them clean, moving her body up to straddle your mouth while she pressed her hands next to your head to steady herself. "Just so you know, if it were up to me, I would be teasing you for hours." She said smugly, before finally, finally dropping her weight and pressing her cunt against your mouth.

She did so a the perfect timing too, right when Gojo bottomed out. Meaning you moaned long and loudly against her cunt, making her shiver at the intensity of the vibrations. "Oh fuc-kk, so fucking tight." Gojo moaned, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes as he let the both of you adjust to the feeling and girth of him stretching out your walls.

You tried to squeeze your thighs together but to no avail, as Gojo held them apart, gripping your thighs that hung over his shoulders. Geto wasted no time in rocking her hips against your mouth, moving one of her hands to grip itself in your hair as your lips came to suck on her neglected clit. Her taste was just what you were missing, you wanted to keep your eyes on hers but the attention from the both of them was too much, making you roll your eyes back in your head.

"Oh s-shit." She wined, biting her lip as you ate her out with vigor. "Gonna move now," Gojo warned before he started up a brutal pace on your cunt. Loud squelches and slaps echoed through the small room with the intensity of his thrusts, making Geto chastise him, "G-gojo too f-fucking loud."

"I don't give a fuck," He groaned, dropping his chin as he stared down at your cunt, watching a ring of your cum form around the base of his thick cock. "I dare someone to say shit to me." The doctor added, dropping one of his hands down to where the two of you were connected as he started rubbing his thumb in delicious circles against your clit, making you wine and moan into Geto's pussy.

She was leaking so much into your mouth, so much so that you had no more doubts in your mind or anxieties about not being able to make her feel good. She was gasping and moaning on top of you, all of her snarky comments flooding from her brain at the way your tongue was fucking her stupid. She rocked her clit against the tip of her nose, making her stomach clench and her body jerk over you every time her hips humped forward.

"Fucking hypocrite." Gojo huffed out a short laugh, reaching his other hand around Geto's mouth as he covered it, quieting her moans as they became muffled against his palm. "Some noisy fucking ladies you are~" He cooed. The squelching between your legs increased as he fucked into you with more vigor. "You like bein' used like this? Huh?" Gojo asked, rubbing your clit with pinpoint precision and making your eyes roll back in your head. "Squeezin' me so tight down here feels like you're tryna milk me." The doctor laughed, his jaw-dropping in a small o when your cunt squeezed around him particularly hard.

"Too bad you're not on birth control now or id fill this pretty cunt up." He said, shaking his head in disbelief at how good you felt around him. Geto's moans increased when your tongue fucked into her deeper, Gojo's words heightening your arousal. "Bet you'd like that huh?" His filthy mouth continued. "Your doctor cumming inside your perfect little cunt while Nurse Geto fucks your face." His own eyes rolled back at his words, he felt his cock twitch with how badly he wished he could fill you up.

Geto's other hand that was stabilizing herself by your head came up to grip Gojo's wrists, the volume of her moans getting louder against the palm of his hand; simultaneously her hips started losing their rhythm on your face. "Shit" Gojo laughed, "Think you're gonna make her cum." He said, which made you increase your antic on her cunt, opting to suck her clit back into your mouth so she didn't have to strain her thighs by humping against your face.

That was the right call, her body stopped being able to grind against you the closer she got to her orgasm, her hips jolted and jerked against your mouth as she gripped harder onto Gojo's wrist. "Yeah yeah give it to her, cum in her fucking mouth." Gojo groaned, talking her through it while you encouraged her from below, moaning "mhm-mhm." Into her wetness.

Gojo pressed his balls as hard as he could against your ass as he fucked his cock to the hilt inside of you and stilled there, waiting for Geto's orgasm to finish. The woman could be heard moaning profanities mixed with your name into Gojo's palm as you sucked the orgasm out of her, her body curled in on itself as her high rippled through her. Every time she jerked forward, a bit of her cum spurted itself into your mouth. You slowed your tongue against her as her body's jerking got less and less frequent, until her shaking stopped altogether.

Gojo removed his hand from her mouth as she collapsed down on the side of you, breathing heavily. "Holy fuck, no one ever made me cum that hard." She confessed, clenching her thighs together in the aftershocks as you smiled at her drunkenly. "You're so pretty." She said, sliding her body down so she was laying the side of you, one knee thrown over your body as she caressed your cheek in her hand and combined your lips together in a kiss.

"Aww, so sweet." Gojo cooed, biting his lip and smiling before he resumed his pace on your cunt, making you pull back from the kiss as you moaned loudly. "Asshole, we were having a moment." Geto chastized, rolling her eyes at his childish behavior. "I was feeling left out." He whined, rolling his hips against yours and creating delicious friction against your sweet spot inside you. "That feel good?" He asked, finally being able to see your pretty, fucked out face.

"Y-yes, so good Doctor G-gojo." Once again, the inappropriate use of his title made his cock throb unreasonably hard; he wouldn't look too hard into it. "Fuck, you really are so pretty." He said, shaking his head at how gorgeous you looked with your pace covered in Geto's cum, your eyes all out of focus, and your hair going in every direction from the face fucking. "Geto," Gojo started, making the dark-haired woman lay her face against the crook of your neck while she looked down at him.

"Keep her quiet." He instructed once more. She did not need to be told twice. Lifting her head, she once again pressed your lips together and slotted your lips together slowly, tasting herself on your tongue. "S-so sweet." You whined, making her giggle against your lips. "Thank you, baby." She replied, swallowing up your moans as Gojo fucked you with more vigor.

"Shiiit, wish I was fucking recording this right now." Gojo wined, pulling his lip between his teeth, "You guys making out is so fucking hot." He said, rubbing his thumb on your clit harder and faster as he brought the both of you to your impending orgasms. The way your cunt pulsed rhythmically was the first clue that you were about to make a mess on his cock.

"S-shit, gonna squirt again? Huh? Gonna squirt all over my cock this time?" Gojo questioned, his teasing tone making the coil in your tummy tighten. You pulled back from Geto's lips, making eye contact with him. "Y-yes sir." You wined. The new name caught him off guard, but he was in no universe complaining. "Yeah? Good fucking girl let me see it then, wanna feel you cum all over my cock." He moaned, his hips stuttering as his pace lost its rhythm.

Geto cupper her hand over your mouth and stared her dark eyes into yours, "You can do it baby, cum all over him, just like you did on my mouth." You blushed at their words, the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening before Geto was dropping her head down to your nipple, and sucking, and thats all it took.

"Fuck yeahhh~" Gojo moaned, rubbing his fingers back and forth over your clit as you came around his cock, your squirt wetting his abdomen and slacks alike with the intensity of your orgasm. Geto moaned around your nipple, her other hand coming to pinch the other between her fingers as the two of them worked you through it.

About halfway through your orgasm, Gojo pulled out. The doctor kept up his fingers against your clit, his movements getting sloppy as he jerked himself off over your tummy, "fuck- fuck cumming, cumming-" He warned before he released his hot seed on your tummy. His body jerked forward and his abs clenched as he spurted long ropes of his cum onto your skin, his eyes rolling back in his head as he pictured behind his eyelids that he was filling you up with his cum and not wasting it like this.

Despite that fact, he just had one of the most intense and satisfying orgasms he has ever had. "Holy fuck." The man groaned, his eyes rolling back into place from the back of his head as he came down from his high. He let your legs drop from his shoulders and onto the bed as his hands chased them, squeezing the fat of your thighs to stabilize himself.

The both of you breathed heavily into the small room, and the three of you stayed silent as you let your souls find their way back into your body, Geto popped off of your nipples after a couple seconds and rested her head against your collarbones while she waited for the two of you to calm down.

"Wow." Your voice could be heard throughout the room, breaking the silence, and making the two of them laugh. "Couldn't have said it better myself." Gojo snorted. "Oh shit, what about the other patients." You said panicked, sitting up on your forearms as the woman lying on your chest was pushed up with you. "Shhh, it's okay," Gojo cooed, rubbing your thighs as he ran his hand through his sweaty hair. "You were my last patient." He said, making you sigh in relief. "I think." He finished, making both you and Geto drop your jaws simultaneously.

"Youre so irrisponsibale." Geto said, shaking her head as she caressed your tummy. "Say that when you're not lying on the hospital bed naked and covered in cum with a patient." He said, tilting his head to the side as he let his eyes fall shut and smiled. She just narrowed her eyes at him as he tucked his softening cock back into his pants before he started to make himself look presentable again.

Once he was finished he gathered Geto's and your clothes from the floor and leaned over you, placing his hand on your thigh as he leaned his face just inches from yours, "You did so fucking well." He said before he leaned in and gave you a soft kiss before pulling away and staring into your eyes intimately, "Just in case you were having any doubts." He added before leaning away completely and turning to untie the curtain that blocked the three of you off from the rest of the room.

Geto made herself comfortable behind you as she watched Gojo tidy up the room, laying her head on your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your naked body. "Are you guys gonna stay there forever or?" He asked once he had made the room look like three people didn't just fuck in it. Geto looked up at the ceiling, contemplating her answer before she answered, "Mmm, I think so, yeah." She finally said, kissing your shoulder and making you giggle before she slid out from behind you and started dressing herself again; making you follow her lead.

After you had gotten dressed again; and fixed Geto's hair per her request; Gojo cleared his throat before speaking, "I'll put in a good request for a transfer so you can follow up with a good friend of mine about that IUD." He said too formally, making you panic slightly. Of course, he didn't want you to be his patient anymore, it would be inappropriate, but damn did it hurt. "Did.. did I do something wrong?" You asked insecurely, making the two of them tilt their heads at you.

"Well, I don't know about Geto.." He started, making you hold your breath at the impending rejection, "But I like where this relationship is headed, so I don't think it appropriate for us to stay Doctor/Nurse and patient if want to see where this goes," He said, making Geto smile and nod in agreement, "If, that's something you want." He finished.

"You could've led with that." You said, heaving out a sigh that made the both of them laugh. "Yeah, that's my fault~" Gojo laughed, rubbing his large hand on the back of his neck. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm rushing I just.." He scrunches up his face before speaking, "I guess I've been getting paged for the last half hour about another patient I allegedly had after you." He said, a nervous smile plastering itself over his face, making Geto facepalm.

"Scram, I'll take over from here and meet you in a second," Geto said, to which Gojo placed his hand on her shoulder and thanked her dramatically. The tall man walked up to you, grabbing your hips in his large hands before he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, using his thumb to pull down your bottom lip when he pulled away. "Text me when you get that IUD and ill show you how good gettin' your pussy filled with cum can feel~" He said confidently, leaving a peck on your lips before he spoke one last thanks to Geto, and was out the door.

"I'll take good care of you, let's get our digits in that phone of yours and we can start on the transfer resuest~" Geto cooed, holding her hand out for you to place your phone in.

You might have left the building with one less doctor than you had when you came in, but you left with two potential partners, and that was more than fine with you.

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