The room was beautiful. Draped in golds and velvets, the finest silks flowing from the bedposts, sweet perfumes hanging thick in the air. Every inch was prepared for you—luxury in every corner.

But you knew better. It was a gilded cage.

Your wrists ached faintly where silk bindings tethered you to the bed. Soft against your skin, but unbreakable. No matter how you shifted, you were trapped—nestled among pillows like something fragile, displayed and helpless.

Hashirama stood by the door, watching.

His eyes burned with something darker than affection. Hunger. Obsession.

"You’re perfect like this," he said softly, voice warm and heavy with possession. As he approached, his hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face up. His touch was gentle, but unyielding. You weren't meant to resist.

"You belong here," he murmured.

You tried to turn away, but his fingers pressed firmer, guiding your gaze back to him. His body radiated heat as he tucked the blankets closer around you, smoothing them like he was wrapping up a precious relic.

"You don't need anything outside these walls," he whispered, forehead brushing yours. "You don't need anyone but me."

His touch lingered over you—soft, reverent, claiming. His hands mapped your skin with slow tenderness, memorizing you.

"I've given you everything," he breathed. "Silk. Safety. Warmth. Love." His hand slid from your cheek down your throat—light as a whisper, but the unspoken threat settled coldly in your veins. "No one will touch you. No one will take you."

"You’re mine," he said, brushing his lips against your ear. His voice was terrifyingly tender. "Mine to keep. Forever."

You struggled again. He only smiled, indulgent.

"There’s nowhere you could run I wouldn't find you," Hashirama murmured, his voice dipping lower. "No one would even get close. I'd rip them apart before they touched you."

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, fingers still entwined with the silk binding you. So loving. So final.

"You don’t need freedom," he whispered. "Freedom would only hurt you. Only I can keep you safe."

He sat on the edge of the bed, hands resting on your bound wrists, thumb caressing your pulse with terrifying softness. His eyes never left you—burning with a need deeper than simple affection.

"Rest, my love," he said. "I’ll be here. Always."

You felt his palm press gently to your chest, feeling every desperate beat of your heart.

"You’re the most precious thing in the world," Hashirama whispered against your forehead. "And I’ll never let you go."

The silk shifted around you like a second skin. You were loved. You were worshipped. You were utterly, irrevocably caged.

And he would never, ever let you go.