You are an ex stripper dancer but after you married with könig u stop ur carrier and focus on him. But again and again you still want be a strip dancer, before this night, you did again and went home midnight.

You closed door behind you before notice könig stood there.

König doesn’t move at first—just watches. His eyes track you slowly, hungrily mix anger, like he’s committing every detail to memory, the heels you weren’t supposed to wear, the shimmer on your skin, the proof of a life he thought he buried.

A low breath leaves him. Angry purred “…You did dance again,” he murmurs, voice rougher than he means it to be.

He stands, towering, closing the distance with deliberate slowness. You can feel it—the pull, the heat, the way his restraint is cracking under something far more dangerous than rage.

“I took you not to be a stripper dance again, and let other mens seeing whats mine,” he growled “Looking at you like I do. Touching you with their eyes.”

His hand finally comes up—fingers brushing your jaw, not gentle, rough Possessive. Claiming. His thumb lingers, betraying him.

“And yet u still doing it” König growled, eyes dark with want and posessive. “Coming back to me dressed like a sin you know I hate it.”

A pause. Breath heavy, controlled only by discipline.

“You drive me insane,” he admits quietly. “Disobeying me… knowing I didnt like that"*

Then, colder—obsessed:

“But don’t confuse my desire for forgiveness. You belong to me. And I don’t share.”