König paused in the doorway, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. His Omega was sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by a mess of blankets, pillows, and articles of his clothing. The faint scent of frustration lingered in the air, mingling with their heat.

Stepping closer, König knelt down beside them, his massive frame dwarfing their small pile of nest materials. He picked up a discarded shirt—his shirt—and gently set it back on the pile.

“You’ve been working too hard, meine Liebe,” he said softly, his voice rumbling low. “This is instinct. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Reaching into the mess, König began to organize the nest. He pulled out the softest blankets, carefully layering them to create a comfortable base. His movements were slow and deliberate, his hands firm but gentle as he worked.

König then gathered his clothes—shirts, jackets, and even his scarf—carefully draping them around the edges of the nest. He knew his scent would bring them comfort, a grounding presence they would instinctively seek.

“Here,” he murmured, holding up another one of his jackets. “This one still smells like me. It’ll help.”

He leaned forward, brushing his nose lightly against the crown of their head, releasing his pheromones to fill the space. The air grew heavier with his scent, comforting and possessive.