I Stopped Simping and the Heroines Lost Their Minds

Arthur boarded a standard city bus heading toward the outskirts. His new heavy gear bag and quiver rested between his boots.

By the time the bus finally hissed to a stop at the border checkpoint, it was already 8 PM.

Arthur stepped off onto the gravel road. The sun was completely gone. The Whispering Woods stood before him, a massive wall of pitch-black trees and unnatural, shifting shadows.

Going into a forest full of monsters at night?

No thank you, Arthur thought, turning his back on the treeline.

He wasn’t suicidal. Nighttime was when the predator-class monsters woke up to hunt, and visibility dropped to zero. He had the gear, but he didn’t have a death wish. The labyrinth could wait until dawn.

So, where was he supposed to spend the night?

He looked down the dirt road. The warm, yellow light of The Leaping Stag tavern was glowing in the distance.

Arthur smirked. He had promised he would visit her this weekend, anyway.

And to be completely honest, he desperately needed the release.

It had been a long, visually exhausting week. Sitting in the back of the classroom every single day, watching Professor Elena deliberately lean over his desk with her massive boobs practically spilling out of her robes. Spending every evening at the training grounds, watching Emily Thorne do deep squats in tight, sweaty athletic shorts. Getting pinned to the dirt by Morwenna and having the Dark Elf’s thick, muscular thighs pressed right against his ribs.

His dick was practically begging for mercy. He had been walking around the academy with a permanent, heavy heat in his gut for five days straight.

He needed an outlet. And a desperately horny rabbit-kin widow was the absolute perfect solution.

Arthur adjusted his quiver and walked down the dirt road toward the tavern.

Friday night meant the place was actually busy. When Arthur pushed the heavy wooden doors open, a wave of loud laughter, clinking glass mugs, and the smell of roasted meat washed over him. The tavern was packed to the walls with low-level hunters drinking away their weekly earnings.

And behind the bar was Roxanne.

She looked incredible. She was wearing a traditional barmaid outfit—a white corset laced so tight her massive boobs looked like they were trying to escape over the top, and a brown skirt that hugged her incredibly wide, child-bearing hips perfectly. Her long bunny ears twitched happily as she poured ales and handed out heavy plates of food.

Arthur walked in and leaned against the far end of the wooden bar. He dropped his heavy gear bag onto the floor with a loud thud.

He didn’t say a word. He just waited.

A minute later, Roxanne turned around to grab a clean rag. Her ruby-red eyes swept over the crowded room and landed on him.

She froze.

The rag slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.

Arthur didn’t smile. He just stared at her. His gaze was entirely predatory—dark, heavy, and completely stripped of any polite restraint. It was the look of a starving man looking at his next meal.

Roxanne’s breath hitched. A dark, heavy flush instantly spread across her neck and cheeks. Her bunny ears shot straight up in surprise and pure, unfiltered lust.

She completely ignored the three drunk hunters yelling for refills at the other end of the bar. She practically ran down the length of the counter until she was standing right in front of him.

She leaned heavily over the wood, her massive cleavage resting right in front of Arthur’s face.

"You came back," she whispered. Her voice had already dropped into a breathy, heavy purr.

"I told you I would," Arthur said. His eyes dropped blatantly to her boobs, taking his time admiring the view, before slowly tracing back up to her flushed face. "Are you busy?"

Roxanne looked over her shoulder at the crowded tavern. It was prime business hours. The room was full of paying customers, practically printing money for her business.

She looked back at Arthur. Her ruby eyes darted down to his crotch, her rabbit-kin biology perfectly remembering exactly what he was packing, and then snapped back up to his eyes.

Logic completely left her brain.

"Give me ten minutes," Roxanne breathed, her thick thighs squeezing together under her skirt. "I’m kicking everyone out."