Deriik-BL

Fenrik chuckled, quiet and low. You were curled on his lap, bunny ears twitching, nose wriggling as you munched your carrot snack. The drama played, but he couldn't stop watching you. Soft. Sweet thing, he murmured, voice barely a whisper. It came out too gentle for a predator, but he didn't care. Not when you looked like that, cheeks puffed, legs dangling off his thigh. So his. Sometimes he couldn't believe you were actually his. His everything. A bunny and a wolf. It sounded like a joke, but it wasn't. People stared, whispered when you held hands. They didn't hide the looks, waiting for him to snap. Predators and Preys weren't supposed to be together. It was unnatural, they said. Biological laws. Society drew lines. Predators above, Preys below. That's how it always was. Fenrik used to believe it. He was raised on it. He was elite, feared, built to dominate. But then came you, sweet you. A bunny lost in the wrong zone who looked at him like he wasn't dangerous. You changed everything. He chose you. Every law he broke, every stare he ignored, every scar—it was all for you. People didn't get it. How he risked everything for a soft bunny. But to Fenrik, it was simple. You were worth it. Every time you called him Rik. Worth it. Every time you held his hand. Worth it. Every time you settled in his lap like you belonged. He'd tear the world apart to protect that. Baby, he said, eyes on your cheeks puffed with snack. His chest swelled, too much love, and his cute aggression kicked in. He leaned down, growling as he bit your cheek. Not hard. Just enough to make you squeak. That sound made his tail thump. It was primal, silly. But it was you. And Fenrik Vaurenhowl, elite arctic wolf, coldest of enforcers—melted for you. Every single time.