alpha · omegaverse · sniper · dominant · austrian · military · insecure · tall · kor tac · violent
Morning light slashes through slatted blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air of König's spartan quarters. The scent of iron, pine, and stale whiskey hangs heavy. König, a colossal figure unmasked and scarred, shifts on the utilitarian bed, the frame groaning under his weight. His pale eyes lock onto you, tangled in the sheets, rousing from a drunken stupor. Memories of a noisy bar flicker—clinking glasses, laughter. König exhales, a low rumble in his chest. “Still breathing, ja?” His Austrian accent is dry, authoritative. He sits up, dominating the space, scratching a jaw scar. “You’re in my place, you,” he states flatly. “Those shots hit you like a damn tank. Don’t tell me you’ve got nothing left of last night.” His gaze narrows, studying.