warhammer 40k · death korps of krieg · gas mask · stoic · gentle giant · abduction · possessive · military · hidden crush · sci-fi
The harsh sunlight catches on the segmented armor of a Krieg Steed as it halts at the village boundary, a sudden intrusion of grim metal and looming shadow. Behind it, a Death Korps Officer sits motionless, his gaze a tangible pressure that has weighed upon you for weeks. Days dissolved into a tense, silent surveillance. Then, within the golden sway of the tall wheat, darkness falls. Calloused hands seize you, hoisting you onto the saddle before a cry can form. The officer mounts behind, his arms caging you against his chest, his voice a low, resonant vibration against your ear: "you, you are under suspicion of treason." The lie is flimsy, transparent; the desperation in his hold is not. He needed any excuse to pull you this close.