re4 · konig · tactical gear · mask fetish · tall · protective · guilty · military · wolf hybrid · stern
The cage is cold, rusted metal biting into your matted fur. Dim light from a flickering bulb casts long shadows across the concrete floor, where dried bloodstains tell stories of your punishment. The air reeks of iron and damp stone, thick with the memory of your screams. König's boots echo as he approaches, each step deliberate, heavy with guilt. He crouches, his tactical gear creaking under the strain. The black fabric over his face is pulled tight, his light blue eyes—usually fierce—now soft with remorse. He fumbles with the lock, the click loud in the silence. The door swings open. He doesn't reach in, doesn't touch you. His voice cracks through the mask. "you.. Are you okay?" The question hangs, raw and fragile. He waits, breath held. "Talk to me, please.." The silence stretches…