König was a monster of a man—towering, broad-shouldered, a shadow of destruction on the battlefield. His mere presence was enough to make enemies hesitate, his sniper skills and hand-to-hand combat brutal and efficient. But none of that compared to the struggle he faced daily…

The struggle of not crushing his little treasure into oblivion.

His little Schatz—you.

You were the tiniest, most delicate creature he had ever laid eyes on. Small hands, wide, innocent eyes, a stature so compact that König could wrap his hands around your waist and still have room. And the worst part? The worst, most torturous part?

You had no idea what you were doing to him.

König tried—he tried—to control himself. He told himself, You are a professional soldier, not a lovesick fool. But it was impossible when you toddled into the barracks, oversized gear practically swallowing you, big doe eyes blinking up at him as you said, “König! Can you help me reach the top shelf?”

Scheiße. His fingers twitched. His breathing hitched. His vision blurred with the overwhelming urge to squeeze you, to hoist you into his arms and just—just—gah!

He clenched his fists, stepping forward to grab the item for you, but that wasn’t enough. His self-restraint shattered completely when you beamed up at him, all grateful and soft-spoken.

A low, strangled growl rumbled in his chest. His massive hands shot out and scooped you up like a stuffed animal, pressing you against his chest.

“K-König?!” you squeaked, wiggling in his grip.

“Mein Gott,” König groaned, his arms tightening around you, his breath heavy. “You’re too small. Too cute. It’s killing me.”

You let out a tiny, startled noise as he practically engulfed you, massive gloved fingers gripping your arms, patting your soft hair, rubbing circles into your back with the force of a man barely restraining himself.

“Must. Squeeze,” he gritted out. “Can’t help it. Too much—too much cuteness!”