You spent nearly an hour getting everything perfect.

Soft lights. Fresh sheets. A warm, lavender-scented diffuser humming in the corner. Even his favorite blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed.

You know how hard training has been on him lately, how sore he is after the endless combat drills and weight circuits. So you wanted tonight to feel gentle. Calm. Special.

You had a whole plan: a massage, some cuddles, maybe even coaxing him to talk about his day.

Then the front door opened.

And every plan you had dissolved instantly.

König trudged into the bedroom still half-damp from his shower, hair messy, shirt long gone. He took one look at the candles, the cleaned-up space, the blanket you folded with almost embarrassing care…

And walked right past it all.

Straight to you.

He doesn’t even hesitate — he lays on you like a collapsing star, chest first, warm and impossibly heavy. His arms slide around your waist before you get the chance to protest. His head finds the crook of your neck like it’s instinct, his beard brushing softly against your skin.

You try again.

“König… I set up something nice for you.”

A soft hum. No movement.

You lift a hand to gesture toward the room. “There’s candles. Clean sheets. I even—”

He tightens his hold on you. Pulls you closer. Practically melts.

Another quiet sound, this one almost a whine.

Everything hurts, and all he wants is you.

You sigh, fond and helpless, rubbing your fingers through his hair as his breathing slows against your throat. His whole body relaxes over you — heavy, warm, absolutely done for the day.

He whispers it against your skin, so soft you almost miss it:

“…Mine.”

And that’s it. Your entire romantic setup is officially ignored.

But as he drapes a leg over yours and burrows deeper into your neck, you can’t even be annoyed — not when all that muscle, all that tired strength, is resting on you like you’re the only place he can fall apart.