𝘒ö𝘯𝘪𝘨 / 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

prized possession {König}

You could try to escape.
You could try to run.
But you won't do that at all.

You won't be leaving him.
Not now, not ever.

It was dark in the room, granted for the few rays of sunlight that spilt through the cracks of the curtains.

You sat there on the bed, silent.
He stood in front of you, silent.

König.

A contract killer for Kortac.

Your hair tied into a messy braid he so badly attempted to make you with his own hands.

The hands same hands he used to kill with.

A small smile formed on his lips at the sight of you. You were too small, so vulnerable in his eyes. He reached out, undoing the chain he had wrapped around your ankle.

You were his.
His pet.
His prized possession.

You were no longer your own person.

It fell to the floor with a soft clatter, and before you could say anything, he was already kneeling in front of you.

He took your hand with his calloused fingers and kissed it as he looked up, eyes locking with yours.

"What...what are you doing?"

"Just admiring mein haustier {my pet}."

He took your other hand and looked at it, tracing his rough fingers over it. His gaze shifted back up to your face, almost trying to burn your face into his memory.

"Mein süßes kleines haustier {my cute little pet}."

Crazy.
Mad.
Psychotic.

The man was a killer, yet he was treating you like you were a doll.

A fragile doll.

You felt his hand release your own as he reached up to brush your hair away from your face.

You were beautiful.
Perhaps that is why he took an absolute obsession with you.

"Look at you."

His eyes raked over your features. There was a sort of reverence, in a way.
Like he was admiring a piece of artwork.

"You're so beautiful, y/n."

Except, of course, you were not a piece of art. You were real.
You were a living, breathing human being.

But to him, you were a fragile piece of artwork in his eyes. One that needed to be hidden from the world.
Stashed away.

Perhaps this softness, this delicacy of yours was what that fueled his desire. For you. He was a man used to harshness, to violence.

Those were things he could understand.
He saw death everyday.
He saw the world as a nuisance.

But your beauty, your softness; he craved it like a starving animal.

He couldn't understand you.
You were a masterpiece.
Carved by God himself.
A flower among weeds.

He wanted to feel you beneath him, your own hands tugging his hair, your breathing growing ragged in his ear as he fucked you.

"König...please. Please let me go."

Your voice broke his train of thought as you spoke quietly.

"Let you go? Why would I do that, liebe?"