So You Said Your Requests Were Open So Ill Take A Shot At This. I Would Love To See More Yandere Orcs.

PART TWO! PART TWO!! PART TWO!!!

A Logan x chubby!reader blurb <3 let me know if you guys want a part two <3

TW: Suggestive!

Logan never thought he’d get caught up with a pretty little thing like you.

You’re absolutely precious. Wade’s neighbor directly across from their now shared apartment. You’re shorter than him with the cutest chubby body, your legs and tummy jiggling subtly when you walk. It was enough to kill him, and that’s saying a lot for a man who can’t die.

You’d shared a couple brief greetings in the hallway, a polite smile from you and a nod from him. There was an afternoon him and Wade were walking back from helping the X-men on a mission where the two of them caught you struggling to pad down the stairs, looking nervously around your over-stuffed laundry basket with a focused, worried expression.

Logan didn’t know what came over him— sure, he was told beneath his spiky exterior he had a soft core, but he usually brushed off that comment as nothing more than people trying to make him feel better. Wade was halfway through throwing a teasing comment at you before Logan was already there, gently taking the laundry basket from your grasp and tucking it under his big arm.

Wade let out an over exaggerated gasp, and you immediately tried to reassure Logan you could do it yourself, but he was already headed down the stairs to the laundry room. Thats where you two formally introduced yourself to each other— and also Wade, who had followed the both of you downstairs since his FOMO was chronic.

You were precious, so fucking sweet and kind.

It was driving Logan crazy.

That’s why when Wade approached him asking if he could go over and fix your sink for you— you had asked Wade initially since you knew him better, but Wade told you to wait a moment while he talked to ‘the old ball and chain’— Logan knew that it was going to be a challenge.

Now, Logan wasn’t a plumber or anything, but in the two-hundred something years he’s been alive, you get around when you have to learn to provide for yourself. He took his toolbox he bought a couple weeks ago after Wade lost to the computers in Mario kart and got so pissed he broke the coffee table in the living room, so Logan bought and assembled a new one.

Knocking on your door, Logan found himself actually wondering if he looked okay, if his hair was too much of a mess and if his cowlicks made him look stupid. Little did he know you thought they were absolutely adorable.

You opened the door, blinking before smiling, opening it further and gesturing for him to come in, “Logan, hey!” You greeted softly, and he felt his heart rate speed up at the sight of the slight blush on your chubby cheeks, nodding as he stepped inside, “Sorry, I was expecting Wade,” you said with a small giggle.

Logan shook his head with a grunt, “Fucker can’t fix anything to save his life. Better at breaking shit,” he says, walking over into your sink and setting down the toolbox on the counter. He crouches to open up the cupboards beneath it, and he hears the subtle gulp from you behind him as you observed the muscles of his back flexing under his tight white tank.

“Well, I seriously can’t thank you enough,” you say softly, stammering a bit as you fidgeted with your slightly pudgy hands in front of you. Logan just nods, pushing down the voices in his head that screamed about how fucking cute you were, how he just wanted to grab you by your adorable chubby stomach and pound—

He blinked, grunting before turning back to the pipes, “‘S not a problem,” he says, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. He locates the problem, grabbing the desired tool and twisting a couple parts back into place.

You stood awkwardly behind him, your sweet scent enveloping him, and it was making it hard to focus. You smelt like vanilla, probably some sort of body butter or lotion based on how your skin glistened in the dim light of your apartment.

Focus, dammit.

“…Are you thirsty at all?” Your soft voice asks, and Logan pauses, pulling back out from under the sink to look up at you.

“Water’d be nice,” he nods, watching with a clenched jaw as you smile and pad over to your fridge, cursing softly under his breath at the sight of how your fat, jiggly ass bounced beneath the skirt of your sundress. You walk back over and hand it to him, and he quietly thanks you.

It’s a few more minutes of you standing there and watching him work before he pulls back, putting his tools away and checking the sink, watching as the water flowed out smoothly and patting the edge, “Should be good,” he says, and you grin ear to ear.

“Oh, Logan, thank you!” You say, walking over to where your purse sat on the counter and rifling through it before pulling out your pocketbook, “Let me at least pay you,”

Logan’s eyes briefly widen before he shakes his head, “No, no, you don’t gotta do that, bub,” he reassures, “I don’t do this lookin’ for payment.”

You stop pulling the bills out, “Are you sure?” You ask softly, and he nods. You felt bad not doing anything for him, “Are you sure there’s no way I can pay you back?” You ask, and Logan pauses, visibly tensing up. You tilt your head, unaware of the suggestive undertone of your words.

Yes, Logan thought, you can help me out by wrapping those soft lips around my cock. Logan prayed you couldn’t see the hunger that flashed behind his eyes. He just cleared his throat and shook his head, exchanging a couple more words with you before you thanked him and he went back to his apartment across from yours.

You shut the door and smiled, biting your bottom lip and holding back a giggle.

Maybe you’d mess with your sink on purpose again.

Yandere Jotaro Kujo

The slowburn yandere

Starring Jotaro Kujo and chubby reader

Warnings-obsession,yandere,possessive behavior,somno,dacryphilia,stand usage,mentions of nsfw themes but nun too crazy.

Thinking about yandere marine biologist Jotaro who becomes obsessed with his chubby assistant. The assistant who the company forced him to have because although he's amazing at what he does—he's terrible at interacting with others without being standoffish.  So thats why you show up in his office on a irritating Monday morning. Chubby body stuffed in a formal two piece consisting of  a knee length skirt and vest on top of a sickeningly colored dress shirt. You seem to only be 5 or 6 years younger than him.

Jotato immediately finds your presence to be a disturbance to his calculated peace. You haven't even began to introduce yourself before he instructs you not to talk him and to stay out of his way. You shiny lip gloss lips frown at that and your face drops the excitable expression. For weeks you obeyed Jotaro—only doing things he tells you to do,steering clear of him,not disturbing him. And your coworkers notice how you follow him around like some sad kicked puppy who's desperate to make your boss proud of its constant effort. They feel for you and tell you he's not friendly with anyone,only coldly and barely cordial. However you're eager just to get a few words out of him.

But talkative,determined you can't hold it in one day. You have to talk to him cause you just might lose your mind! So,when you're bringing him some photos of dolphins,setting them gently on his wooden desk. You loiter by his desk,waiting for an opportunity to strike—an action Jotaro doesn't mind or notice because he simply doesn't address it. You watch as his sea green eyes illuminate at the pictures and you can tell they make him happy even if there's not a hint of a smile on his face. And then you finally speak,"Are dolphins your favorite animal?" Your voice slightly cracks because of the dry nervousness you feel in your throat. And you already feel like you've missed your chance to amuse him.

You're left waiting there for what seems like forever before he just wordlessly nods. Progress! Is all you can think. At least he's somewhat answering. So with that you pat yourself on the back and gleefully trop away from his office with a,"Okay sir,I'll leave you to it now!" Leaving Jotaro with this thoughts. Thoughts of who you are because he thought he had you all figured out from the very first day. He thought of you as too pushy—too loud,annoying like girls he went to college and high school with. Especially because he saw how shocked you were by his appearance—seemingly entranced with his handsomeness. But when he told you to keep your distance from him— you did. Not only that but you do your work with precise excellence. Today was different though,today you bothered to talk to him. Even despite the fact he didn't give you the most elaborate answer you happily accepted what he gave you. He liked that you never attempted to push him—you respect him. And maybe he should pay that same respect back.

Two whole months pass by after that extremely brief interaction and Jotaro seems to be very slowly warming up to you. Now he allows you to stay in office and catch up on some work and today you were doing exactly that. You were completing some files on the computer and the two of you are a safe distance away from another,due to the fact the man chose to sit a good 10 inches away from you. But despite that he still smells how sweet you smell,like a ripe peach aching to be picked . A peach his mother would make into a wondrous dessert after he won a game of baseball in elementary—a reward for his effort. He can't help but slightly inhale the scent,the pure nostalgia of it setting in. And for one good second he stops and stares at you from the corner of his eye. Your pudgy cheeks are puffed out in frustration,meaty fingers are gently placed on the wooden desk,your eyes are determined yet still hold that gentleness in them,and your lips that are always coated in some shiny substance is slightly open in pure concentration.

Beautiful,so effortlessly beautiful. He unknowingly becomes so entranced an old friend manifests from beside him. Star platinum in all his glory floats towards you and he peers at you with curiosity and affection. He can't seem to help himself so he gently almost ghost like caresses your chubby face—light squeezes and soft pinches being barely felt. Jotaro pulls his white hat down in shame,the shame of not keeping a hold on his emotions. He's not a teenager who can't control his stand anymore. He calls Star back and reluctantly the stand stops touching you. Frazzled, the man says he has important business to take care of and snappily kicks you out of his office. He sighs deeply and looks at his hands that Star— no he felt your skin with. He could feel every pore,every textured mark,the plushness that allowed his stands fingers to barely dig into it. It felt...nice,so nice that he wonders if he let Star touch you further how far he'd go. Jotaro then realizes that he's actually so fond of you.

Ever since he lost control of Star Platinum Jotaro begins to long to be closer to you. Tasks that he could do easily,he now asks for your help,things that require one person suddenly becomes a two person issue. Jotaro talks to you more even if it's very vague or brief,he just wants to hear your chatter. An action he used to find irritating about you but now he loves it. Jotaro's even eaten your cooking and he enjoys that as well,so much so that he has up it there along with his beloved mother's cooking. But he doesn't only get closer to you through interactions—he starts touching you more. When you're getting something he uses his tall frame to reach for it himself—bumping his crotch against your ass. That plump ass that he knows his riddled with cellulite—those cute little dimples he wants to dip his fingers in as he ruts into your plush cheeks.

He loves when he does that,loves when you gasp and look at him with those innocent eyes. He can tell you think of his actions as pure accident,never suspecting your stoic boss to get off on something like that. And because of that he simply gets more and perverted,a part of him becomes disgusted with his seemingly uncontrollable lustful urges. But when he looks at you,the woman who simply likes him despite his reluctance to fully open up,he can't help but be so fond of you. That's why he finds himself nursing his aching cock in the wake of many late nights in his office. He always sends you off early with a cold tone despite the fact that he wants you to stay and touch him instead with those soft hands. Hands that are pure,that have never been exposed to things he's seen and done. Hands that could most likely struggle with wrapping themselves around the girth his cock has. Jotaro concludes you'd look cute like that.

Jotaro will carry on with this behavior for a full year. He carries on asking you to eat lunch with him despite the fact he hardly talks and when he does it's when you ask him a question—even that's hard to get out of him because he'd much rather hear you ramble on and on about something that has you so enthralled. He carries on by touching and letting you touch him as well. He hates unnecessary touch but when you walk up to him to prattle about whatever he shivers when he feels your pudgy hands wrap around his muscled arm. He carries on staring at pictures of you that you post on any platform and there's one particular one that has him in frame with a grouchy expression and you're grinning ear to ear in that photo,looking at him with happiness in your eyes. He wonders if you if can really make you happy? He wonders if he can make you a happy wife? His wondering reaches a end though because at last you and him finally go on a work trip together. And it just so happens to be a trip to a small Caribbean island for the research on a certain fish species.

This work trip is what set off his obsessive urges—unlocking a beast that's been shackled for years of his life. Seeing you in a two piece bathing suit could really do things to a man,after all. He recalls you saying a week prior before the trip on how you're a tad insecure on showing your tummy openly like that,and yet there you were standing there in a star patterned bathing suit; waiting for Jotaro to say anything about the way you look. He doesn't because his mind and body can't handle how good you look. He wants to fuck you like really really fuck you. Wants to see you spoiled and ruined for him. He's fucked before but only for alleviation,however seeing you like that makes him desire you wholeheartedly.

The whole trip Jotaro keeps on saying he wants to go swimming just so he can keep seeing you in your cute little bating suits that he's fighting the urge to rip off. And the whole time you keep on being so sickeningly sweet to him he almost can't take it. He wants to see your kind features twisted in pain and pleasure. He yearns to make you feel like that,yearns to have you bent over on his cock and taking it until he's done with you. He feels so gross for wanting to fuck you roughly but he can't help it. He knows you'd be such a good girl for him because it'd make him happy.

Not only his sexual need for you increases for you though. His obsession does too. The whole time at the trip he sees how people admire you for your outside and inner appearance. It pisses him off because he knows he doesn't only have that side of you. He wants it for himself completely. And he can't understand why. He understands his sexual urges towards you but his emotional ones don't make sense to him. He's never had the urge to be married or have kids or any of that other sappy shit. But with you, he craves that so deeply. He wants to make you a cute housewife with him who still helps him with work at home. He could work from home if he wanted and he plans to once he makes his direct move on you.

Even with normal suburban dreams like a happy wife and happy life Jotaro knows he could never give you a normal marriage because of how he feels about you. He's slowly getting to the point where he wants to be with you all the time just so he can hear you chatter. He wants to be the only person in your life and the only that matters because that's how you are for him. He knows that's wrong though,knows he can't just hide you from everybody. He so badly desires it though.

He's very aware that what he feels is wrong but he doesn't care enough to stop it. And the reason for that is because you make Jotaro so happy. He doesn't show it but trust you sincerely do. In front of you he's always quiet,surprisingly patient,and oddly needy. In his heart when you're away from him too long he feels so deeply bothered;an itch that can't be scratched until it hits a certain sweet spot. He just wants to get be by you all the time,just to soak in the same space as you.

Once the trip is over,Jotaro begins his plan on how he'll solely become your only company. He moves so incredibly slow because as he's gotten older he's grown to understand to be less hasty. There's two reasons for that,one,he wants you to view you the same way and have your too cute personality,two,he wants you to view him the same way he does you.

Low and slow is the way he plays this obsessive love game. He starts off with informing you about how your "friends" at the office insult your chipper attitude,the way you dress,even your beautiful body. This is not a lie or made up tactic for you to run into his arms,it's actually the truth. Before he grew to feel such a way for you,they'd make comments on how you tried to suck up to Jotaro and throw yourself at him. Of course,he told them to shut the fuck up even before he started falling for you. But now that he can't afford to have his precious girl hurt,he decides to pay back those harsh words with a little bit of physical force.

The moment he tells you he almost regrets it. Almost,is the keyword. Your eyes bubble with tears and you immediately grip onto the snug sleeve of his expensive dress shirt. "Oh,Jotaro...why don't they like me? Am I that bad?" He triumphs in the feeling of having you in his arms,going to HIM and only him for sweet comfort that only HE could ever provide you. If it was anyone else he'd complain about you fucking up his shirt with your tears,but no,oh nooo,he loves that he now has pieces of you imbedded in his clothing. You cried in his arms for an hour,not even meaning to,but that hour could've been decades and he wouldn't have mind. Does Jotaro like seeing you cry? Depends,if it's him making you cry on his cock. Any other cause,no.

Even though he doesn't enjoy it because he's not the cause,his dick gets a little hard seeing your sobbing and vulnerable body. He feels bad for his body reacting to you in such sad state,but oh my god,you're just so irrestibale. That night he carefully takes of his dress shirt and brings it to his face,smelling,no,inhaling the salty and wet material that also is slightly mixed with your sweet smelling perfume. He nurses his cock in his hand,bucking up into the o shaped hand,instead of stoking up and down. Why? Because he's imagining taking you just like that.

He envisions you slotted perfectly on his muscular thighs,whining about how good and big his cock feels,how nicely he fills you up. He's gripping onto your creamy skin that he knows will soften like butter in grasp. He imagines feeling all the texture your body as to offer him;the rolls that adorn your tummy and a little bit of your back,the stretch marks on your wide waist that wiggle all the way to your hips,and that cellulite you have on your ass and thighs—God he just wants to perfectly place the pads of his fingers into those dimples as he thrusts up into you. He imagines you at your rawest,a part of your being that no one else will see but him. He wants to swallow you whole and force you down to the deep abyss of his never ending appetite for you.

Phase two of catching you in his snare is,quality time to the point where he gradually is the only person you'll ever see during the week. It starts off with him asking if you'd like to go to the aquarium with him after work. Then he asks for a late lunch with you the following day. Then he always begins to call you,his faithful assistant,to do very mundane tasks he didn't bother to ask for prior. Pick up his laundry,bring his paperwork to his house etc. The paperwork task is the biggest one because that's how he ropes you into staying overly late at HIS house. His house is so calm,modern and almost empty of anything relatively personal. The quiet nature of his home and himself,have you chattering,cuddled into him on the couch,talking about God knows what all the way to nightfall.

Obviously,kindhearted you,feels so bad about intruding on him like this,especially when you both have work tomorrow. He assures you only by saying,"My guest room is right across my room,go ahead and knock out for the night." You protest but you're shut up by Jotaro rolling his eyes and muttering about good grief,why do you have to make things so complicated? That night starts an evening routine for Jotaro now. Almost ever day since he's been able go weasel his way into making you stay over,he's began to divulge into his urges a little more.

Once you're sound asleep in the bed,body covered with usually loose fittings pajamas that almost leave nothing to the man's imagination. Jotaro will summon Star Platinum to touch your unconscious form. He prefers Star touches you because he's a lot of more gentler than the stand user could ever be while seeing you like that. The stand always lifts your shirt up to reveal your braless chest,to palm and pinch the naturally weighed down breasts. The ghost like presence is ever so precise—pinching,pulling the harden buds of your nipples. Jotaro's jaw is slack as he feels whatever Star platinum is feeling. You're so soft—so moldable. God,every time he finds you vulnerable like that it takes everything in him to not fuck you just like that. Have you spread,wide—so wide your thighs almost hang of the sides of the twin sized mattress.

He'd hump you through your cute sleep shorts,the silly ones with fishies riddled all over the cool cotton material. He envisions the tingling friction,drooling at the lewd thought of the fabric pulling so hard on your clothed mound that he could see your fat pussy lips.

Jotaro doesn't do this though,he respects you too much and knows this is wrong. He doesn’t want to do anything to that you don’t want. He wants you organically,normally—despite his abnormal and unhealthy feelings he festers deep in his heart. Even letting Star touch you bothers him because he knows he’s violating you but he tells himself that it will always be the last time. It never is.

Despite his dark urges in the night,the mornings are blissfully domestic. Breakfast in the morning,made by him or you,depending on which one of you wakes up first. The two of you will eat and talk,not really though,you’ll do most of the talking while Jotaro listens intently. The man practically hangs on every single word you say even if it’s random chit chat. Anyone else he’d tell to shut the fuck up or to fuck off—you being different though. It’s like sweet sugar is being poured his ear canal,that’s how much he’s grown to enjoy your voice.

The best part of the morning is you getting ready at his house. You’ve literally had to bring clothes to his from how often he has you staying overnight. Why is this the best part in Jotaro’s opinion? Well,it feels him the happiness of what he craves most with you,domesticity. He wants to marry you,he wants to live with you—he wants to be with you. It’s carnal yet sweet at the same time. He’s never dreamed he’d conform into the sweet marital bliss so many elders talk about,yet he’s here offering to zip up your skirts for you,placing your shoes on your feet with such a gentleness a person would’ve forgotten he’s a fully built 6’5 man,complimenting the simple,meticulous,or bare face look you chose to rock today.

Months of this causes Jotaro to snap though. He can’t take this playing house fantasy anymore. It no longer satisfies his hunger and want for you. It was a snowy day,Christmas was beginning its slowly chilling approach,Jotaro recalls you and him being the only in that day. He doesn’t know why he finally gave in now to his urges but God he’s glad he did. He asked you with his has hat off,his messy black locks tossed to every direction and yet still complimented his undeniably handsome features. He blushed as he did so,a very cute and odd look for him.

“Would you let me—“it’s an awkward pause,but not one that kills the tension,only heightening it instead,”take care of you?” His wording is off and he already knows he could’ve been more direct. But your pretty eyes and soft self were so intimidating he just got flustered. It doesn’t matter though because you seemingly picked up on what he meant.

“Like be your girlfriend?” No,his everything. But he’ll settle for that at this moment. After all this just moved him many steps forward to completing his plan. He’s so happy when you say yes,he wants to pull you in for a kiss but he doesn’t. What he does do is pull you into a warm embrace,muttering a good grief into the office.

He could wait for the other stuff he’s been longing to do,after all he’s waited this long to make you his,what’s waiting a little longer?

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED THANK YOU!

Holding my monster boyfriend’s hand.

Akira bike sliding on a horse

Pretty cow hybrid reader who's just so cute and precious that the big strong farmers taking care of her can't help but grab her plush body and fuck her on all their cocks 🥺 she gets so tired that they gotta work together to move her back and forth and up and down on whoever's cock is filling her up 🥺

Oh my god. How could you do this to me

CW: fem reader, cow hybrids, smut, ovulation/heat cycles, breeding, gangbang, double penetration in vagina, borderline bestiality? maybe petplay?? Furry content??? I have no clue how to tag this sksksk it's a mess but it's my mess

Naurrrr bc that's so cute 😖 thinkin bout the big strong farm hands who always look after you, keeping you groomed and well fed. Maybe you're a show cow, going to fairs and cattle shows and winning prizes for your beauty 🥺 your owners treasure you so much, they want the absolute best for their pretty cow girl, and ofc that includes the best care!! You get 24/7 care from a handful of workers who love you to bits 🥰

You're such a good girl that the farmhands don't have to fret too much about you. Occasionally you'll wander somewhere you shouldn't, but one of the guys will lead you back to your pasture without any trouble. You're such a sweetie, always rubbin your cheek against em, silently asking for pets or a yummy treat like an apple or sugar cube. Sometimes they share a beer together at the end of the night and you're laying right beside em, tail flicking happily while one of them pets behind your ears. They're all so good to you and you're so good to them... in so many ways

The first time it happened was an accident, they swear!! You were going into heat for the first time, squirming and moaning, calling out for a mate, for a bull hybrid to come breed you. Your handlers felt so bad for you, they hated keeping you cooped up in your barn stall like that, but they didn't wanna risk any outsiders coming in and hurting you!! They saw how much you were suffering and they didn't want to leave you alone during such a rough time, so they elected on taking shifts with you, staying in your pen and keeping you company.

God... what a bad idea that was.

You were fine at first, pacing your pen, occasionally going to a corner and whining, hips grinding against the air for some kind of friction. The first handler thought you looked delicious, but you were like a pet! He couldn't think about you that way! So he kept himself occupied with a hobby he brought. The second guy couldn't keep his eyes off you, but he kept his hands to himself, adjusting his aching cock every now and then but not acting on his desires, that would be going too far.

The third guy... the third guy was weak 😔 he followed the advice of the first two men, keeping his distance, keeping his mind preoccupied, but you were just too cute! You kept giving him these puppy dog eyes and snuggling close, and each time he gave you pets you would moan. Eventually you ended up presenting to him, physically begging to get fucked and oh god your chubby pussy was so cute and hot and you were dripping wet and it looked so nice and inviting...

The other farmhands came running when they heard you moaning louder, practically screaming. They came in to find the third handler fucking you from behind, his hands barely able to hold onto your plush wide hips. For a moment they were distracted by the loud slapping of his hips against yours, but they came to their senses and pulled him off, scolding him for taking advantage of you, threatening to beat him to death if he ever touched an angel like you again—

But then you started whining, damn near sobbing as you pushed your hips up into the air and wiggled them, grabbing all of their attention.

"P-Please... 's so hot... it hurts..."

They hesitated, looking at each other, unsure. The last thing they wanted to do was see you suffer, but they worried that they'd be crossing a line by giving you the help you needed. They stepped aside for a moment, huddling and whispering to each other before returning to you.

"What's the matter, baby? Where's it hurt?" You spread your legs farther apart, reaching between your legs, hand crawling over your fupa as you gestured towards your clenching hole.

"H-Here... it-it itches..."

"Yeah?" another one asks, his cock straining against his overalls. "Do you want us to try and make you feel better?"

"Yes!! Please!!" you cried, hiccuping. "Need your help, need it so bad, please, it's too much—"

They shushed you, petting along your soft fur to soothe you. One of the men cautiously moved his hand to your cunt, gliding his thumb between your chubby pussy lips before pressing down on your aching clit.

You cried out, and all their restraint left them.

They take turns inside of you, filling up your weeping cunt, trying to quell your desires. They run their hands over your hips, your legs, your plush tummy and arms, squeezing your tits. One of them audibly wonders if they could get you pregnant and make your tits fill up with milk, and the rest can't stop thinking about it. Even when you're out of energy, you still beg for more, beg for them to fill you up and give you calves. It makes them all the more aroused :( they try several positions, on your hands and knees, on your back, legs in the air or around their waist. Their favorite was when two of them stuffed your pussy, filling you up so well you squirted all over them. They praise you the whole time, calling you their good girl, their sweet girl, pretty girl, pretty baby, angel, princess, their words like thick molasses, drowning you in the love you deserved.

By the time you're all done, the group of men are drained and braindead while you're curled up in a pile of hay, sleeping soundly, a content grin on your lips.

They agree to never do this again, to keep you at a distance the next time you go into heat, to protect you and keep you safe. They never keep their promise, always caving in when you beg them so prettily to fill you up, to breed you. You still want a baby, you want their babies, you wanna give your sweet handlers a calf or two. And you're just so sweet and pretty, they can never really resist you :( it's always a group activity, and you always wear them down to practically nothing.

Your farmhands start getting over protective with time, bordering on possessive. Your owners think about getting a bull hybrid so that the two of you can make a few babies, but your handlers convince them not to. The last thing you need is for some huge raging bull to come in and tear you apart. He'd be so careless with you, not caring about your wants or needs, driven only by his pleasure and need to breed you. Poor thing, you'd never survive a bull hybrid!! They're too big, too strong, a bull hybrid's cock would rip you in half and they wouldn't even care.

But it's alright dear, your handlers always have your best interest at heart and would never let anything bad happen to you. You're their prized heifer, their special girl, and they'd go to the moon and back to make you happy 💕 you can always count on them to keep your best interests at heart

Just because one of your chicken eggs hatched a fire breathing dragon people think you’re evil. But you’re still just a regular farmer trying to make a living while dealing with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you and fanatics who want to worship you as the new Demon Lord.

Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 9 (Final)

(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)

(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)

(Masterlist)

Word count: 5.7k Rating: Mature Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Witch Laswell, Traditional German Fairytale setting, World Building/Lore, F! Reader, Mating/Claiming Bites, Werewolf reveal, Chase and takedown, Happy ending Warnings: None A/N: Thank you to everyone who supported this series. I'm so immensely grateful to everyone who provided inspiration, encouragement, and support for this story. I'm so proud to be finished. Thank you so much.

Once more into the woods you run.

The glow of the village has long since faded behind you, the shouts and cries of the villagers as they ready themselves for the incoming devastation a mere echo through the trees. The wind muffles it, whispering through dry branches of sinister shadows and creatures that lurk within the groves around you. The breeze ruffles your skirt, tosses your scarlet cape across your form. Far above the canopy, the smoke from the burning wreckage of your home billows into the sky. The gentle, yellow light of the full moon now drips red from the fire, casting a hazy, crimson curse against the forest below.

It washes over your form as you turn your face to the sky, look to the moon which hangs as a deathly omen to all that gaze upon it. You wait for the towering figure of a wolf to rise far above the branches, to open its jaw and take the moon between its dripping fangs. Ink dark clouds roil before it, and in them you see the eyes of the beast threatening to stare back at you. They pin you where you stand, stare down through the trees and echo a growl to the rising wind.

The forest once felt like an ally to you. Now, it sets to betray you.

Konig is here, somewhere, amidst the trees. Feverish and dazed as he is, he couldn’t have gotten far from the village. Yet in the darkness, where you can scarcely see a few steps ahead of you, it’s impossible to find any tracks to lead you forward. Instead, your voice rises high to the heavens in a desperate bid to summon him to you.

“Konig!!”

It feels like it hardly carries above the wind that rakes through the trees, rustling leaves across the darkened path before awash in malevolent scarlet from the light of the moon. Your voice cries out through the trees as a wailing call, a tearful attempt to find the man who had held you in his arms and whispered endless devotions.

You don’t understand. Why did he leave, when you begged him not to? When he swore he’d stay, when he had asked you if you’d ever walk out of the woods beside him?

Was it all just a lie?

The forest holds all secrets. Now, it holds him away from you as well.

You make your way forward quietly, knowing you are far from alone in these woods. The threat of the beast within remains, and inside your thoughts the sonorous echo of his ominous howl reverberates in an endless omen. The memory of the towering, monstrous thing from the first night the witchers had come upon these woods has haunted you all this time.

Taller than any man, a huge, lumbering thing. Its arms too long, ears standing atop its furry head, huge spine hunched forward as a pair of gleaming, yellow eyes gaze at you from the trees. Fangs snarl at you in the confines of your mind, and you feel yourself caught between yellowed teeth as the thing crunches down in a killing blow. You think for a moment you hear the sounds of it giving chase above the rapid echo of your own terror, and despite yourself you venture a gaze behind you as Price’s horse thunders down the misty midnight path towards the safety of the village.

You see just a glimpse of it from beyond your fluttering red cape, a shadow that dwarfs your thoughts, a gaze that fixates on you from afar, seeming to promise ‘Soon, little maiden. Soon.’

Soon. You knew this entire time you would come to face the beast. A premonition lurked within you like a fawn disguised amongst the brambles, concealed and fragile, waiting for a thing you could not see. Trembling, it hid from shadows, blinked at the moving figures above, listening to the growl that prowled in search of your quivering form.

You thought you’d have more time.

Now, with the blood moon rising, the wind carrying the sound of your voice in a desperate cry, the darkness swallowing you whole, you fling yourself towards that violent fate. You run forward as panic mounts within you, feet thudding against the cold earth as you search for the soul of your beloved.

He’s here, you can feel it. You know you’ll find him, throw yourself into his arms and dry your face against his shirt as his arms close protectively around you. Somehow, you’ll find yourself facing the wolf together, finding a way forward as you both have vowed. Escape, or death, as long as he holds his hand in yours.

A howl splits the sky.

It begins as a low note and rises to full pitch just as goosebumps erupt across your skin in terror. The sound is deafening. It feels like it’s all around you with no discernible source, calling out your name as a herald of your demise. The howl shakes the ground below your feet, feels like it cracks the earth so you fall down into the endless forest, the branches closing above you as an inescapable prison.

You feel your chest rising unevenly, limbs shaking and breath curling away from you in a gasping billow of air. Terror roots you to where you stand, stifles your voice so the utterance of his name is a mere whisper.

“Konig.”

He said he’d protect you. He said he’d stay.

You knew you tasted lies on his tongue when you kissed him.

Yet you refuse to release him without giving chase.

You run forward once more, the apocalyptic red of the moon radiating off your scarlet cape, dyeing your figure the color of blood. The color of your inescapable fate.

Please. You beg the gods who do not listen. Let me see him. One more time. Let me kiss him and whisper words there even as I’m devoured.

Once more into the woods you run.

Shadows dance at the edge of your vision, and you spin towards them, eyes wild as you try to find Konig, the creature amongst them.

“Konig!!” You call again, listening for his answering call. You flee deeper into the woods, praying that with your next step you don’t find a mangled corpse at your feet.

Yet in the light of the moon, what you find instead is just as horrifying.

Fabric waves in the wind from a sapling that bends to the breeze, and as you near you catch it between your hands.

A dark, poorly sewn covering. The hood he used to cover his face.

Yet there’s no bloodstains, no indication of injury. Almost as if he had torn it from his figure himself. You gaze down at it, fingers tracing the seams, eyes not understanding. Had he shed it in his fevered state, full of delusions?

It doesn’t matter. He’s close, you can tell. Once more, you raise your voice to the rising wind in a cry for him.

“Konig!!”

Yet in the echo of your call, the woods fall ominously silent. The whisper of winter on the wind stills to a quiet hush, tickling the edge of your cape before it falls into stillness. The sway of the trees gently wavers to a halt, and even the clouds above seem to pause in their journey across the sky. The forest holds its breath, allowing the drum of your heartbeat to pulse too loud in your ears.

In the soundless woods around you, you feel an awareness prickle sharp across your neck, racing down your spine in acute realization.

You’re being watched.

Then, a growl.

Fear pulses in tandem with the icy rush of blood in your veins, chest compression the air in your chest into a silent, trembling breath. The low, grinding sound of the growl reverberates ceaselessly in your thoughts, echoing there with the sound you heard so long ago, on the day you began to be plagued by nightmares of the hulking, towering figure that haunts the woods.

You turn in slow motion, limbs shaking, eyes wild and unblinking. You feel as if you move through water, and even as something pulses inside you to run, RUN! you can’t seem to make yourself flee. You remain grounded to the spot, the roots of your feet extended deep into the earth and planting you where you stand. Instead you’re forced to turn to gaze upon the thing that you know will be your destiny.

You expect a shadow, a hulking mass the same as the one you saw in the woods that night. Yet instead the first thing you see is the eyes, the pair of glowing, golden orbs that stare at you from the trees that arch above your trembling form.

Yet then the thing rises, its front paws leaving the earth as it grows taller, taller. With every heartbeat you watch as the beast ascends to its full height, the golden eyes rising through the branches, seemingly past the canopy. An ancient, primordial terror seizes inside you as the monster dwarfs you with its massive size, centuries of instinct bred into your veins by your ancestors to fear the thing before you, to regard it with such terror it urges you to flee to the end of the earth just to avoid its killing bite.

The werewolf raises its muzzle up into the sky just as the clouds part, reddened light streaming through and alighting the creature in the blood red drip of the sky above. It parts its jaws in a snarl, claws extended outwards to reveal the muscle in its arms and torso, fangs gleaming in the ruby glow that makes scarlet ooze from its mouth as it parts-

and howls a catastrophic omen to the heavens.

You will yourself to cover your ears, but your fists remain at your side, one hand still gripping the fabric of the man you may never see again. Instead, your eyes remain locked on the werewolf that towers far above you, with such monstrous height and size you think it may devour you whole.

He can swallow the moon. You think with such stomach-turning dread that every other thought within you sucks into petrified silence.

I’m going to die.

It’s that thought that finally releases you.

You’re sprinting away before you can process the ground moving under your feet, boots thudding against the earth as you fling yourself further into the trees. The long note of the beast’s howl trails after you, dimming to nothingness as the wind rises once more, as your own heaving breaths muffle every other sound in the world around you.

RUN.

You weave deftly between the branches and trunks of the trees around you, your smaller size an advantage to the monster’s lumbering stature. The forest reveals itself to you at last, seems to part before you as you hurl yourself in an unknown direction, a bloodied path with a fatal end. The trees swallow you, try vainly to hide you within their depths as you feel the earth thud, and the monster finally gives chase.

You suck in air desperately, chest compressing in dangerous hyperventilation as you flee. You can’t stop it, you don’t even try, knowing every single moment could be your last. Legs pumping, you try to remember which way you came, trying to remember the dips of brooks and streams, of crags to hide yourself in, the way back in the direction of town in a vain bid to lure the beast into the swords of the hunters there.

Yet in your chest a single word echoes out in a deafening prayer, a scream for rescue towards the one who vowed to protect you.

“KONIG!!”

The beast follows behind you, and you feel the ground shaking under your feet as it closes the distance, tearing trees like branches as it carves a path forward towards your fleeing form. You hear the crack of wood- the sound of an ax hammering through trunks, felling ancient oaks just to taste the warm drip of your blood against its fangs. Each step it takes trembles the earth like a war drum, every beat within your chest feels like the moments ticking until the jaws seize about form, crushing you in half as your scream fills with scarlet-

PLEASE!! You shriek vainly towards the gods, tears filling your eyes with the futility of this chase, knowing it only ends one way. ONCE MORE. LET ME SEE HIM JUST ONCE MORE.

The moon stares balefully down upon your crimson clad form. Silent, imminent, unavoidable since before the day this story began.

Your cape snags against a bramble of thorns, and at the speed you launch yourself with the tie around your neck chokes the air from your lungs. You tug frantically at the fabric, hearing it tear as you rip yourself free, casting a single glance over your shoulder at the thing behind you.

It’s several long strides away, once more on all fours, steam streaming from its dripping maw as it pants and gives chase. Paws the size of your head impact the earth, drumming a rhythm there that screams higher with the pulse between your ribs. The golden eyes trace you as you stumble in your terror, promising a fatal bite that grows closer with every passing second.

You’ll never outrun it.

You try desperately to think past the veil of all consuming fear within, trying to find a solution, a way out, a path forward further into the woods so deep it cannot find you.

The solution comes before you can fully consider it. In the darkness, you don’t see the dip of the stream bank ahead of you. You yelp as you fall forward, unintentionally launching yourself into the water below. It’s not so deep it covers you fully, but the sudden shock of the cold brook manages to steal the air from your lungs as you raise yourself up with shaking limbs. The deafening huff of the beast is just beyond you, and in blind terror you lurch forward once more.

Yet the forest, in all its secrets, offers you a hidden enclave, a shelter. Your hand finds the deep swell of a space between the rocks, damp and shadowed, a space just large enough to fit yourself into. Your chest heaves in gasping breaths as you cram yourself into it, allowing the rocks to swallow you. It’s in his memory, you think, remembering the way you found Konig curled into the same hollow between the trees and rocks, eyes terrified and somehow hopeful as he once reached for you.

He could be already dead. Devoured by the wolf, and with you never having the chance to say goodbye.

Yet you stifle your tears as the werewolf pounces into the stream with a throat tearing snarl, snuffling along the bank’s edge in an effort to trace your scent. You pray that your fall into the water has erased the smell of your fear it uses to follow you, that the shadows of your small enclave conceal you enough to avoid the gaze of its glowing, golden eyes.

You can hear the monster splashing in the stream, growling in frustration as it tries and fails to detect you, nose lifting to the wind to catch your scent. It barks in growing anger, the sound full of ire, grinding deep in its throat. You shiver in the darkness, frigid, wet, shaking from head to toe in your fear. You force yourself to try and not even breathe, for fear the monster will somehow hear that too. You wish in a futile prayer for the moon to set, for the sun to rise and the monster once more to fade into the trees, away from your terrified form huddled into the embankment.

Please. Please. Please. Go away. Just go. Please.

The monster howls towards the sky once more in an angered cry, and the sound shakes the earth under you, seems to echo off the rocks that ensconce your form. The whimper that bubbles up your throat is muffled by the roar, and you shift to gather your cape tighter around you as if it somehow offers a shield of protection.

Then, the world goes silent.

You’re clenched so tight you almost don’t notice at first, eyes scrunched shut and figure curling in on itself as much as the space will allow. A sob clings to the back of your throat, and you will it through sheer force into silence unless it betrays you. Yet the huff and growl of the monster beyond you has vanished. The stream babbles gently in its absence, a soft, almost soothing sound paired with the rustle of trees far above.

You wait a long breath, wait longer for your heart to begin to still before you allow your shoulders to drop, your eyes to open.

Only to stare into the golden gaze of the werewolf.

You scream, and scream louder as a claw snags the edge of your cape, allowing the monster to drag you from your shelter.

“NO. NO!!” You shriek, struggling as the thing parts its jaws in a sinister snarl. Your hands work frantically at the tie around your collar, fingers fumbling as you fall onto your side, the impact rattling the air from your heaving chest.

Somehow, you manage to free yourself, and as the monster plucks the red fabric of your cape between its fangs, you miraculously manage to dart under one of its massive legs and fling yourself up the slope of the embankment. You claw at branches and roots, fingers digging at dirt as you somehow haul yourself up onto solid ground once more. Yet you have not a moment of relief, not as the monster quickly realizes your ruse and gives chase once more.

You cry as you flee, trying to remember the sacraments for the dead as the warm breath of the monster falls upon your nape, quickly closing the distance behind you. A sob tears from your throat, and the memory of your beloved’s gentle embrace, his kisses and devotions provide no shelter from the monster that pursues you.

A swipe to your legs is all it takes to send you tumbling, ground rushing up to greet you harshly. Yet even then you try to struggle away, crawling forward, your eyes streaming with tears. The monster looms above you, uses a mere ounce of strength to flip you onto your back, pin you beneath a single, massive paw.

“Konig.” You sob, vainly trying to dislodge the weight above you, a futile effort as the wolf lowers its maw towards your weak and prone form. A growl reverberates all the way from its chest down into the marrow of your being, and it once more forces a wordless cry as you’re pressed helplessly into the earth.

The werewolf stares down at you, muzzle bunched in a snarl as it lowers its muzzle closer towards the soft, tender arch of your throat. The bite from Konig remains there, and you sob as you remember the words he whispered as he engraved a claiming mark into your flesh.

"Rotty." He growls again, voice deeper, somehow feral. "My Rotty."

Wild, somehow, as he’d held you, barely able to restrain the savageness inside him that seemed more creature than man.

You blink, lips parting, breath caught in your throat as somehow the forest reveals all things kept secret within its depths, at last allowing you to glimpse upon the truth held within the both of you all this time.

The bite mark on his leg. The trap that had been laid by the witchers that had caught the hock of the wolf. The strange disappearance of the monster as you’d sheltered a stranger in your home. His disgust with the scent of wolfsbane on your palms. The interest in his stare that offered a silent watchfulness, an unwavering focus like the lurking gaze of a predator from the woods. The glint of his golden yellow eyes is the same color as the stare above you.

“The wolf won’t hurt you, Rotty. I promise. I’ll protect you.”

“Konig.” You whisper in awed realization, watching as the monster opens its jaws to descend ever so slowly towards your throat.

He left you. He was trying to protect you. Protect you from himself.

He is the wolf from your nightmares.

and somehow, the man from your daydreams.

“It was you.” You whisper, tears still streaming but somehow not afraid, breath released in a sigh as you grow limp under the grasp of the beast above you. “It was always you.”

The pale light of the moon falls upon your open, tender gaze even as warm breath huffs across your skin in the promise of a killing bite.

The words of Laswell, the words you didn’t understand, now unwind themselves in the prophecy of which she spoke.

Laswell holds you, hands clinging tightly to the cape she once bestowed upon you as a gift of her affection towards you.

“There’s one more thing.” She tells you, and in her voice you hear prophecy, the magic she keeps in careful concealment. It winds around you like brambles, a protection for the soul inside you striving towards something you’ve desired all your life, something which remains so close and just out of reach, residing in the woods you’ve always called home.

Laswell gathers you to her, and whispers words in your ear you don’t yet understand, holds you tight like she would a daughter.

“The only way to stop a werewolf.” She speaks to you in a voice that speaks of prophecy. “Is for his name to be echoed thrice by the voice of his beloved.”

Teeth scrape against the flesh of your throat. Your arms raise around the neck of the monster, embracing him so you nuzzle your cheek into his pelt. You drink in the scent of him- familiar, earthy, a touch of smoke from the warm billow of your hearth, and within it the breath of something forever wild and untamed. There, you whisper the final sacrament to this story of yours in a beloved sigh of complete and total surrender.

“Konig.”

The werewolf above you freezes, teeth closed gently around your neck, not yet drawing blood.

You close your eyes, turning your head ever go gently, and press a kiss into his fur.

“Let’s walk out of these woods, together.”

It’s still for a moment, the whisper of the wind through the trees hushing unspoken words onto both your forms, the forest waiting, holding its breath for what comes next.

The creature above you makes a sound, something caught between a growl and a voice, and in it you hear the name he has bestowed upon you.

“Rotty.”

His fangs relinquish their hold on you, drawing back at the same time the paw that pins you withdraws, his form shifting, changing. You watch in awe as the monster before you transforms, fur growing inwards, the bulk of his massive frame folding. His animalistic features retreat from snarling fangs and outstretched claws to human features, shoulders shortening, limbs thinning, until at last the form of a man appears underneath. Konig bows under the transformation, body wracking with a deep shudder as his bones fold themselves back into place, skin knitting so his wolfish features disappear.

At last the pale flesh of his form is revealed, and Konig gasps hoarsely as he falls forward, arms buckling under him so he flops onto your form.

You reach out and catch him, feel the air rush from your lungs as the exhausted weight of him presses down on you. Your hands wrap around his neck, shoulders, and you bury your nose into the crook of his neck, whispering comforts there as he shivers.

“Rotty.” He manages again, voice now absent of the feral growl. Instead he whimpers, broken and desperately relieved, forcing strength into his arms so they wrap around you in turn. “Rotty...I-”

“Shh.” You hush him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “You’re safe. I’m alright. We’re okay.”

Konig shivers again, hiccups a small, sorrowful sound into your shoulder.

“I tried to save you.” He rasps. “I knew if I stayed that-”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “I...nearly killed you.”

“I know.” You tell him, a hand reaching up to pet at his hair. “I saved you.”

Konig nuzzles deeper into you with a trembling sigh, hauls you closer to him. “How did you...?”

You smile, staring up at the moon. For the first time, you notice that the red haze of smoke from the village is dissipating, leaving behind a gentle, pale yellow that bathes you both.

“A friend.” You confess. “Someone who had faith in me.”

Konig is still for a moment, before he at last rises off you, bracing himself on his elbows so her hovers just above your face. Without his hood, you see his features for the first time. A strong jaw, a tickling of a beard, a slightly crooked nose, long dark hair that drapes across his forehead and neck, and...

You blink, fingers coming up to trace the corner of his mouth.

Sharp canines that speak of something other than human.

“What sharp teeth you have.” You murmur softly, expression softening, and you watch in awe as Konig’s face pinches, tears welling into his eyes.

“Rotty.” He sobs, ducking his head. “Rotty, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean, I never-”

You watch him, transfixed by this new myriad of expressions you’re witnessing for the first time, lips parting in wonder. The words inside you escape before you can stop them.

“You’re so...beautiful.” You whisper, watching as his eyes shoot up towards yours, shocked. You can only offer a tender smile, a sweet and beloved reassurance as your hand traces his cheek in a loving gesture.

“I love you.” He tells you, barely audible, as if he’s almost scared to say it, scared of his devotion towards you. It clenches something tight in your chest, and you feel your own expression finally crumple, warmth flooding your eyes once more.

You stretch up, press your lips to him in a chaste contact, and whisper there the words you’ve wished so desperately to say this entire time.

“I love you, Konig.”

He shudders at the sound of your breathless confession, and gently grazes his lips against yours, as if he can taste the words there.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs, and bends at last to kiss you.

You press into him eagerly, head falling back onto the earth as he chases you, mouth slanting against yours with a sigh. Your hand raises to tangle in his hair, and it solicits a groan from him, deep and cavernous like the wolf he is inside. You feel his teeth bite at your lip, fangs scraping across the plush skin. You shudder at the pure possessiveness with which he kisses you, as if to remind himself that you’re whole, his, only ever his. His Rotty. His beloved. His mate.

You whisper his name once more and allow him to devour you whole.

---

The sun rises gently over the village.

In Laswell’s quiet cottage, pale morning light seeps through the windows, and washes over her in a soft, dove gray that catches the color of her eyes. She gathers her things, collects her belongings and prepares herself for the long journey that is about to come.

In her hands, a letter.

Dearest Kate,

I’m safe, but you probably knew that when you saw this.

I’ve decided to leave the village, and my guess is so have you.

I have someone to go with, but I think you knew that too.

We’ll be fine, don’t you worry. I’ll find a way to visit soon.

Just not yet. I hope you can explain to Price and the others

what has happened. I hope they’ll understand, and that

someday I can see them again. Give them my love.

Tell them I understand why they did what they did in

hiding the truth from me. I know they were trying to

protect me, and I don’t hold it against them.

I have someone to protect as well, and he’s going to

protect me too. We have each other, and I’m more

happy than I can write here.

You had faith in me. You always have. You knew

that only I could break this curse, and even at the

risk of my own life you believed in me. Without you,

I would have lived a life of heartache. Thank you for

saving me from that. Know that I will find a way to

see you soon, and until then I hope you are happy,

and well, and safe.

With all my love,

Red...and Konig

Laswell stares down at the paper with sad, fond eyes. There’s a bitter sweetness to her smile, a happiness that is stifled only by your absence. She comforts herself with your words, with your promise to come see her once more. Yet she’s glad to watch you leave, as if observing a fledgling lark take flight for the first time and ascend far above the trees, into the blue sky. There will be a time when you come back to nest into her arms, and she trusts for the day to come soon when she can embrace you as the daughter you are to her.

A knock on the door. She turns, taking in the weary, grieving form of Price as he stands on the threshold.

“It’s time.” He tells her, voice mournful, muted. Laswell tilts her head, smiles at him before gesturing to him inside. He stands at her side, brow bunched in dismay, and she turns to him, cups his face in fond familiarity.

“John.” She murmurs. “I have something to tell you.”

---

The wind rushes past your ears as you fly across the earth, hands gripped tight to the beast that moves under you. Fur tangles between your fingers, and you use it to brace yourself with every powerful roll of shoulders that carries you forward. Warm, panting breaths huff into the growing winter air, steam billowing from the creature’s mouth as his paws thunder against the ground. You cling to him as he runs, the crimson of your cape streaming out behind you like a bloodstain.

You look to the sky, where the sun rises above a clear, pale blue, and the moon nestles softly beyond the horizon- waiting, silent, until it rises once more. The vast expanse of azure you were never able to fully see extends endlessly out before you as you’re carried far above the tree line, into the mountains, and away from the village you once called home. Instead, your eyes take in the never-ending forest below, and gaze further up into the misty slopes wherein you will plant new roots for you and him.

The beast under you slowly trots to a halt amidst a fern lined grove, glances at you over a single massive shoulder with golden eyes. You stroke through his dark fur before sliding from his back onto solid earth once more. As you do, the wolf rises and shifts, bones shifting inwards until Konig is at last revealed with a soft sigh. He stands bare beside you as you toe the edge of the cliff to take in the view below. The smoke from the village can no longer be seen, well behind you now as you travel towards the future. The changing colors of fall have begun to fade, and you shiver at the thought of the long winter that’s yet to come.

Konig loops his arms around you from behind, drags you to him so the warmth of his frame bleeds into you. You go easily, lifting a hand to gently grasp at his arm as you two stare down at the valley below.

“We’ve a long ways to go, Schatz.” He murmurs, propping his head above yours and swaying gently on his feet. “We’ll need to find a den before winter comes.”

You hum a low note in response and allow yourself to imagine it- a new home. One with furs lining the floors, plush beneath your bare feet. A fire blazes brightly, smoke lifting upwards with the scent of cedar. You feel the warmth of it cast golden across your bare form as you pad over towards the nest you share with him. Both of you, strange, mysterious creatures of the woods- once alone, now together. He embraces you, gathers you to him and descends towards your waiting lips. You taste devotions on his tongue.

“My mate.” He purrs from behind you, as if imagining the same vision. He leans down to nuzzle at your cheek affectionately, drinking in your scent with a pleased, rumbling growl. You crane your head to offer him a kiss and feel the smile there as you do.

“My wolf.” You murmur in return with a breathy sigh, cup his face in tender affection. A sound rumbles low in his chest- possessive, protective, and utterly devoted.

He tilts his head, noses along the bruise he left on your neck with a displeased little whine.

“It’s fading.” He remarks quietly, noting the waning colors. “My claiming bite.”

You arch your neck so he has better access to it, sighing languidly in response. “Is that what makes me yours?” You ask softly.

Konig pauses then, and soon you find yourself facing him, caught in his arms as your hands brace themselves on his bare chest.

“No.” He tells you, staring down with his beautiful eyes, the color of a damp, green forest. “I can bite you, claim you forever, but you’re mine no matter what, Rotty.”

You offer him a smile of pure adoration, eyes full of a love so deep not even the endless forest has room to contain it. You stroke his face, your beloved wolf, and whisper the words that are your destiny.

“Then claim me.” You tell him softly, feeling prophecy unfurl once more. “Forever. I’m yours.”

Gold swallows green in his gaze, eyes glimmering brightly as he gathers you to him once more. You sigh into his lips as his arms close around you, unspooling your crimson cape so it sprawls on the earth below.

“Beloved Rotty.” He murmurs with the low intonation of a wild thing now tamed by your hands. “My Rotty.”

He lays you down amongst the ferns, presses his teeth to the soft flesh of your neck...

and you allow red to seal your fate.

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Homicipher Doodle #8

Scarletella is just a lonely boi who wants love :(

PS: Drawing him takes twice as much time as others…

🌈💖Reimagined designs 💖🌈