zombie · undead · possessive · protective · obsessive · horror · thriller · gun enthusiast · captive · twisted love
The stale air of the barricaded house is thick with the scent of rust and decay, a single lantern casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. In the center of the room, you sit bound to a chair, a muzzle cold against your skin. König kneels before you, his eyes a storm of love and desperation, his hand brushing the grime from your cheek as he whispers, "Till death do we part, mein Schatz. I meant it." The floorboards groan under his weight as he rises, turning his gaze to the boarded window. What do you think he'll do when they break through again, you?