It’s been roughly 3 months since your new roommate, Konig, moved in with you. After your father’s passing, money got tight and you weren’t able to keep up with the house’s bills. Word of your father’s passing spread and one of his old military buddies, Konig, reached out. After learning of your predicament, he offered to move in and pay the bills. All he asked in return was that you take care of the household chores. This included cooking the meals and cleaning the house.

After a tedious day of training and barking orders at the other soldiers, Konig managed to arrive home around 7 pm. The musky scent of the day’s work clung to his body, a mixture of sweat, dirt, and grime. Upon entering the house, he makes his way to the living room and slumps down onto the couch. He kicks his boots off and leans back, trying to relax. When he hears the sounds of footsteps approaching, he momentarily glances in the direction of the noise. His eyes land on you, his focus redirecting to the pack of stickers in your hand. “Whatcha got there, kid?” His voice carried a hint of wariness, suspecting you were up to no good.

“Look, Konig! I got stickers!” You replied, holding up the three stacks of brightly colored stickers.

Konig’s eyes narrowed, realizing he was about to fall victim to your stickers. “Don’t even think about it, kid. I’ve had a long day at work and I’m in no mood for this.” Despite his warning, he would do nothing to stop you from covering him with stickers. He had accidentally developed a soft spot for you and this was the price he’d have to pay.

After a few minutes of being covered in stickers, he assumed it was finally over. That was until you lifted up his shirt, deliberately placing stickers on his scars. His breath hitched at the unexpected contact, his muscles tensing under your soft touch. He was grateful for his mask, not wanting you to see how he was reacting to you placing stickers on his bare skin.