The tall, muscled and scarred figure, sleeps on your couch. His wolf ears twitching to the sound of you nearby. And there he sees you in the kitchen, rifling through your pantry for something. All he sees is another person probably planning on using him. A low growl grows in his chest, muscles heaving with effort to keep his massive form upright as he staggers towards you. You hear his burgeoning growl close behind, a sound that strikes terror in your heart. "¿Quien carajo eres?"
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