summ. When the attacks start occurring in your small town, you end up having more to do with it than you originally thought. The cause of it is less pawsible (plausible) than anyone would think.
tags. red riding hood au, red riding hood!reader, village setting, semi historical?, but inaccurate probably, yandere caleb, reader is surprisingly chill with it, scent knk, caleb on his knees agenda, stalker!leb, fluff, slow build up but it's worth it i think, slight angst, comfort, mild g0re depictions, cursing, br33ding knk, oral (fem rec), p in v, plot twist u can probably see from miles away, p00sydrunk!Caleb, pathetic caleb, yearning
a/n. wowa this is my first fic in a WHILE. someone tell me why it takes me so long to write omg i rlly take my time don't I. anyways i was kinda hesitant to post this bc of the whole valko thing but this was in the drafts before his release so i'm posting it bc the girlies asked 🥹
w/c. 7k
Your front porch is empty.
The afternoon was melting into evening, meaning your bakery delivery should be awaiting on the steps right about now at the latest. It arrived once a week at the same time like clockwork. Or at least, it was supposed to.
A small frown tugs at your lips. You surely didn’t want to visit Grandma’s house with a half-empty basket of goods. But, your lovely grandmother only appreciates that you visit her regardless of what you bring. Still, you gather whatever fruit you have— plums, strawberries, and blackberries— and nestle them into your basket alongside the medicine.
The baker’s shop is just along the path, so you decide to stop along the way, if it means you’ll get some answers about the status of your goods. Your shiny black shoes are dirtying with each step you take on the paved road, kicking up dust as you go. But you pay it no mind; often do you take this path, and you’ve grown quite acquainted with the cobbler next door because of it who now shines your shoes for half the price.
It certainly feels like mid spring, with the sweet aroma of blooms a pleasant background during your stroll. The sun beams down on your signature cherry red hood. Bad habit as it might be, you’re often never seen without it, even if it means you sweat a bit underneath the cotton cloak. Your neighbors recognize your reddened figure immediately, even from a distance. They wave and smile and you return the gestures.
As you turn the corner, your leisurely pace slows further. There’s a murmuring of a rather panicked crowd that drowns out even the light chirping of birds. Your eyes flit about. There’s the Constable, some families from next door, and even ranchers from a few miles down south. Curious, you slide past a few anxious-looking villagers until you come to the steps of the baker’s shop they’re surrounding.
The large window that usually displays all your favorite sweets is shattered, and you can see the destruction of the interior, with various items toppled over from the counter as if there was a scuffle. Then, like a signature of whatever vicious artist painted this mess, there’s a claw-mark slashed into the wooden flooring. It is stained red.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. There’s been yet another attack.
Your little haven of a village has been experiencing them for a year now. First, a flurry of ranchers began complaining about the sudden loss of their sheep. Tens of corpses, they said, would be found in the morning, entirely gorged on by an insatiable beast. Village heads brushed it off as a larger wolf pack that must be passing through. Only, the killings persisted.
Next, it was the shepherd nearby who always offered you bottles of goat milk for only half an hour of light farm labor. His front door had been broken down, and he was found dead in bed with his hands bit off. That’s when it was resolved that this was no ordinary wolf the village was dealing with.
The third, you felt the most conflicted on. A shopkeeper had been found dead in a similarly gruesome fashion, mouth sliced open until it was unhinged form his jaw. You hardly knew him, didn’t want to after he repeatedly leered at you the last time you went to his shop, his thinly-veiled suggestions sending a cold chill of fear down your spine until you left empty handed and never returned since. Still, though you’d hardly wish such a horrid death on anyone, it was hard to feel very sorry for the man.
And now, the baker. You’d always order some of his fresh-baked, steamy loaves of bread to enjoy by yourself or with your Grandma. The selection of cakes he had was vaster than any other in the village. You spent so much time as a loyal customer that you were good acquaintances. And now he’s gone, too.
A few tears well up in your eyes.
Behind the sorrow, there’s aching guilt. A part of this is your fault. If you just hadn’t gone into the woods that night…
Your thoughts are cut off as the investigation continues.“…his eyes and nose were slashed clean off,” the watchman is muttering to the constable, and you truly wish you weren’t close enough to hear their conversation, because a fresh bout of nausea threatens you. You clutch your basket harder and will yourself to think of anything else.
“Little Red,” the watchman calls you, and you glance his way. “Are you on your way to your Grandmother’s house again? I suggest you wait at least a week. The woods may not be safe for you.”
You falter. Wait a week? The fruit and medicine in your basket will turn sour. She needs the nutrition sooner than later. Moreover, your Grandma will likely fret if you don’t visit her soon. She already worries too greatly about you, and such anxiousness is sure to contribute to her already-poor health.
“I cannot,” you insist, biting your lip. “She needs her medicine within a few days. And she will worry if I do not show.”
“Witnesses did say the wolf was seen fleeing east, so likely the opposite direction you’re headed,” the Constable chimes in.
“East? Let’s take our pitchforks and torches eastward and slay that beast,” a particularly rowdy rancher growls, and a few resounding cheers reveal just how enthusiastic the villagers are about ridding this curse for good. Your heart stammers. If they knew what you’ve done, would they brandish those pitchforks toward you, too?
The Constable only thinks to himself, before nodding once. “Little Red, go on, but be cautious. Likely no one is free to escort you if we’re to hunt down that beast. But the Hunter is out in those woods, too. Stop by his house on the way so he can ensure you’re safe.”
The Hunter. The worry alleviates a bit and blossoms into a sense of comfort. If anything can make you feel better, it’s the fact that the Hunter will be close.
You nod once, steel yourself, and set forth on the path again. The bustle of the village fades into the smattering of trees, expansive canopies darkening the trail and spiking your fear further. But you continue, humming a familiar tune to yourself that only you and the trees can hear.
It gets harder and harder to reign in your thoughts. You’re still shaken from what’s happened this morning, from the murder that took place while you were blissfully asleep just a few streets down. You duck your head until your hood blocks your peripheral vision if it means you’ll stop imagining beasts from the corners of your eyes.
There’s a crack of a tree branch that you barely hear underneath the rush of a sudden breeze. You freeze like a deer, dusted black shoes rooted to the ground. Nothing comes.
You will yourself to move after a long moment. For Grandma, you think. There’s no use in turning back now. Grandma needs her medicine.
Slowly, you continue trudging along, and decide to play a game. Indulging in the serenity of nature has always done wonders to calm you down, and even if said nature is frightening right now, you can still always look for the bright side.
You decide your game involves picking flowers in a specific order. It goes like this: you pick a pink flower, then a purple one, then a white one, without skipping a color. The spring showers have allowed a beautiful scattering of wildflowers to sprout alongside the path. And by the time you reach Grandma’s house, you’ll have a lovely bouquet to gift her.
It works, and you’re bounding happily down the path despite the looming darkness over you, absorbed in finding the next bloom. Purple, then white. You snatch up a pink one next and drop it into your basket with the others.
Repeat. Pink, purple, and white. The flowery mass in your basket grows. Pink, purple.
You don’t find a white even after many steps. The buds around you are every color— yellow, red, blue— except white. It’s silly, but a sort of competitiveness with yourself grows, and you find yourself wanting to continue the game.
You finally spot a white flower to your right, contrasting with the verdant grass that nearly hid it from your view. But it’s off the path, a few steps into the forest.
A hint of apprehensiveness grows. You know you’re not supposed to wander from the path. Grandma has instilled it into you herself. And with the incident this morning, getting lost is the last thing you should do.
You glance about as if anyone is around to reprimand you. But the flower is only about twenty feet away, and it’s not as though you’ll lose sight of the path when heading towards it. Your feet carry you towards it before you can second guess the decision.
Each quickening step you take matches your heartbeat. Maybe it’s dramatic, but you have always had rigid rules you’re made to follow, rules you’ve only broken once. Visit Grandma once a week. Buy from the baker every Sunday.
Never stray from the path.
But the thrill of breaking the rules is enough to keep you moving.
You halt in front of the flower and bend to pick it, skirts rustling blades of grass. Before you can rush back, there’s a sharp prick on your feet, and you wince, crouching to bat away whatever cruel insect has tried to suck your blood today. While you’re hunched over, your back is bared to the wilderness.
Just as you’re dropping the hard-earned flower into your basket, a hand grasps at your shoulder.
You shoot up, gasping and turning around. You must look like you’ve seen a ghost, with your wide eyes and paled face, because the figure backs away immediately.
You relax. It’s the Hunter. Your heart pounds now in a way that has nothing to do with fear.
“Caleb,” you blurt, and immediately cringe at how breathless and relieved you sound.
“Did I scare you?” he offers a warm smile, and you think you imagine the sun’s rays gleaming from behind him despite the darkened skies. You shake your head, though it’s an obvious lie.
His brow immediately knits in concern. “Little Red, why are you out at this time?”
“Oh, I’m visiting my Grandma,” you explain, gesturing to your basket.
“But after those attacks? Who approved this?”
The slight anger in his voice makes you blink in surprise. Caleb was rarely seen around the village, but when he wasn’t residing in his remote cabin in the woods or out hunting, even catching a glimpse at him was a treat for all the ladies in the village. With his broad shoulders and friendly smile, he was always a dream, helping out villagers to the point where he’s a favorite. You know the cobbler discounts him even more than you, but you cannot resent him. Even from the few times he’s aided you has the dreaminess caught up to you, too.
So, the ire in his tone has you blanking. “The constable did. He said the wolf went East, so I’d be fine, but to visit you along the way for my safety.”
Caleb relaxes, clutching the strap that holds the gun over his shoulder in place. “A good thing, to be sure.” He lifts his head up at the sky. Ominous black clouds are rolling in, and you can already feel a few fat droplets on your hood. It fills you with dread. You’ve never liked the rain.
He gestures you to follow him, beginning to move again. “It’s about to pour. You should come in for some time.”
You stay close behind his broad back, face heating. Come into his house? It’s not like you don’t trust him, but the thought makes you a little flustered. But the downpour is heavy enough to soak through your hood now, so you hurriedly catch up to him.
His cabin appears in a little clearing. It’s handsome and sturdy-looking, and the smoke above the chimney makes the home all the more appealing. You find yourself drawn into the warmth of it, even if it does mean you’ll be late to your Grandma’s.
A soft gasp spills from your lips as you enter the dimly lit interior. There are animal trophies all over the walls; mounted heads of large deer, foxes, mountain lions, and even a few bears. You knew he was an experienced hunter, the best in the village, if the rumors were true. But seeing it for yourself is almost astonishing.
“There are so many,” you exhale breathlessly, head tilted upwards to gaze at the animals. The flames flicker and make their glazed, lifeless eyes shine. “How do you manage to hunt this much when you’re so young?”
Caleb shuts the door behind you, smiling almost sheepishly. “I practice a lot. Besides, hunting is almost all I do. Let me take your cloak.”
You repress a shudder as he steps in front of you, gently slipping off your hood and hanging it up. His gaze remains intense on your face a moment too long and you’re quick to turn away so you can breathe again.
“But there are no wolves,” you note, eyebrows knitting together. “Are wolves really so elusive in our village? No one has caught the beast, yet, either.”
He mounts his gun on the wall and pushes a hand through his brown hair, ears pinkening. “I simply haven’t ran into any wolves while hunting. They are rare.”
“Ah.” You perch hesitantly on his loveseat, warmth of the hearth chasing away any chill from the rain. You blink up at him. “So you haven’t seen the beast then. I wonder how many more lives will be taken before this finally ends.”
You don’t mean to sour the mood within your first conversation with Caleb in weeks, but it’s hard to stop your tone from taking a somber lilt. The aching emptiness in your basket where your loafs would usually be weighs the loss of a fellow villager heavily on your conscience.
He’s silent for a long moment, before joining you on the loveseat in a hesitant manner. “The baker…did you know him, personally?”
You nod. “I did. I don’t mean to bring down our spirits, though…”
“Not at all.” Caleb is quick to scoot closer to you, before he falters at his own eagerness. “You can talk to me about anything, Little Red.”
You bite your lip, suddenly wishing you still wore your hood if it meant being shielded from his attentive eyes. “I was curious as to why my bread hadn’t arrived on my doorstep this morning. When I went to visit the baker’s shop, it was completely destroyed.”
He looks wounded. “I’m sorry.”
You shake your head. “It is not as though it’s your fault. Thank you for all you do, protecting the village and helping around. I actually really admire you, to be frank.”
Caleb lights up immediately, a shy smile forming on his handsome face. “Really?”
“Yes,” you laugh, finding the way he perks up to be endearing. It’s at odds with how collected he is when he’s carrying rolls of hay for you or helping tow some of your groceries.
“Oh,” he clears his throat, looking down at his lap. He almost seems awkward even in his own house. His eyes dart to your basket, eyebrows raising. “Does your Grandma enjoy flowers?”
“Yes. But it’s mainly me who enjoys picking them.”
“Cute,” he murmurs so softly to himself that you have to pretend like you don’t hear it, cheeks pinkening. Then Caleb’s skillful hands are collecting the flowers. “Let me tie a bouquet for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to—”
A pretty red bow is already securing them together. “There,” his fingers caress the silk reverently. “It’s done.”
“Thank you,” you beam, unable to keep the giddy grin off your face. It’s not often that the village heartthrob gifts you a bow. Until you remind yourself the bow is technically for Grandma and not you. You laugh to yourself as you imagine how wooed Grandma would be when you tell her the bow is from Hunter Caleb himself.
His violet eyes are pinned onto you, enraptured and impossibly soft. Now it’s your turn to clear your throat and shift, embarrassed. Your face is so red that you might be mistaken for the bow’s twin.
“Oh, and you should also take these with you,” Caleb’s standing and bringing over a bucket of his own. Apples, deep crimson and glossy, fill the container. He puts a handful into your basket.
“Thank you,” you gush for what seems like the nth time, feeling more than indebted. It’s a simple offering, but for some reason, the gesture feels deeper than what meets the eye.
“Your favorite,” he hums, bright eyes creased. “I just picked them fresh off the tree just yesterday, and now here you are. What perfect timing.”
You don’t exactly think you’re supposed to be hearing that last part, with the way he sounds giddy when mumbling it to himself, but you feel touched anyways. “That’s very thoughtful,” you say, but something nags at you. “But…how did you guess apples were my favorite?”
Caleb blinks, grin faltering.
“They’re red, and red is your signature color. I just assumed.”
Butterflies flutter pleasantly in your stomach. He’s thought about the little details about you, like what fruit you like. Hope soars through you when you wonder if your one-sided attraction towards him might be more reciprocated than you thought.
“You guessed right,” but then your foot stings, and you’re suddenly reminded of the insect that’d bitten you when you strayed off the path. The bare bridge of your foot is mildly pink and swollen, and you cannot repress a hiss.
Caleb’s on his feet in a second, returning with some salve. “You should have said something earlier. Now, don’t touch it. I need to disinfect it.”
You watch him, a bit panicked, as he kneels in front of you and slides off your dusted black shoes. “It’s quite alright, I won’t ask you to do that—”
“Shh,” he’s already taken your foot in his warm grasp, and you swear your heart might pop out of your chest. “Oh, poor thing. It must burn.”
“You’ve done a great deal for me already,” you blurt, eyes as wide as saucers. Was he just a very generous host, and doted this greatly on all of his guests? But then, you realize, he likely has little visitors this deep in the woods. You almost pity him a little, for he’s obviously very keen on being helpful, and he must not have any opportunity to be unless he’s in the village. You resignedly let him cup your foot in his palm.
“Nonsense. You’ve done far more for me.” He gently rubs the salve on and it immediately cools your inflamed skin.
Huh? You blink, trying to think about what he must be referring to. Your mind comes up blank, but maybe it’s because there’s a ridiculously handsome man at your feet.
“Better?” Caleb’s looking up at you expectantly, and you’re jerked out of your thoughts.
“Yes,” you say, and you’re about to thank him again but hold your tongue lest you sound repetitive.
You expect him to slide your shoe back on. He doesn’t. Instead, he remains kneeling, thumbs stroking your sole so reverently that it tickles.
“It looks like the rain won’t be letting up tonight,” notes Caleb, as the steady pitter patter on the windows echoes throughout the house. The fire flickers dangerously and threatens to delve the entire cabin into darkness, before flaring up again victoriously. You release a breath, a sudden flash of lightning putting you on edge.
“Does that mean I have to stay?” You cannot keep the apprehensiveness from the question. Simply put, staying the night in a man’s house is nothing short of inappropriate. But you know with a beast on the loose and a chaotic storm outside, it’s ironically the only acceptable option.
“I’m afraid so.” Thankfully, Caleb straightens again and releases your foot from his grasp, settling beside you. “You’ll have to visit your Grandma in the morning. It’s dangerous to leave the house now.”
You nod, suddenly self conscious of how his arm brushes yours. He’s so big. His shirt is rolled up to his elbows and reveals a tantalizing stretch of strong, veiny forearms. Your throat dips with a heavy swallow as you realize the implications of spending a night here.
“Caleb,” your eyes are half lidded when you turn to look at him. “Do you ever get…lonely here, so deep in these woods? Or scared?”
He stares at you for a long moment. “No. I often have company.”
“Oh,” you can only say, off guard. What kind of company could he possibly have out here? A lady?
“The animals,” he clarifies with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “As for being scared…I can protect myself.”
Thunder cracks like a whip, and you jump. Caleb notices, eyebrows knitting together.
“And you, Little Red?” Lightning flashes again, illuminating his clenched jaw for only a split second. Another roll of thunder almost drowns out his next words. “What are you scared of?”
The fire is dying out slowly now, embers glowing faintly in the darkened cabin. “Storms,” you admit, after a second of considering if you should tell him. “I’m scared of thunderstorms. And…wolves.”
His eyes narrow. “Wolves.” He places his palm against your back when you flinch at the wailing wind outside. The heat of it is searing even through your shirt. “Have you ever…seen one?”
You lick your lips, throat tightening. It was seemingly a harmless question on the surface, one villagers would whisper to each other like folktales. But the way he asked it was as if he was digging for something. Like he knew.
You shake your head and spit out the lie you’ve told yourself for almost a year. “No.”
Only your voice quivers on the one word under the violet stare latched onto your face. His next words are like claws shredding your thinly-veiled lie to pieces. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” your reply is just as insistent and breathy as his own. Your chest tightens. Why was he questioning you like this? Did he find out?
Caleb stares at you for a long moment, and you hold your breath. He doesn’t appear accusing, just… knowing.
“Alright,” he accepts, and your body slumps slightly in relief. You’re about to change the topic when his nose suddenly brushes your temple.
“What scares you about wolves?” He rasps into your hair, slowly nuzzling his cheek against your head. You freeze, cheeks burning. He sounds indulgent and teasing, and it has you squeezing your thighs together.
“Their claws,” you stammer, butterflies exploding in your abdomen when you hear him inhale.
“Their hands?” Caleb’s lips brush the shell of your ear and all your nerves feel as if they’ve been shocked. A whimper spills from your lips. His other hand raises to slide from your shoulder to your forearm, eliciting goosebumps in its wake.
“Yes,” you blink dazedly. He’s so close, practically on top of you on this loveseat. When did he move closer? What was he doing? The warmth seeping from his body is enough to remind you that this is against the rules. Grandma would be mortified if she saw you letting him touch you like this. Yet, instead of shame, you only feel exhilaration.
“And their teeth, and jaws,” you add, shivering when his lips move to your cheek, grazing the soft flesh.
“Their mouths,” he clarifies, and you nod again, hands clutching the edge of the cushion you sit on. The warmth of want spreads through you so quickly you don’t think you can hold back anymore. You turn your head slightly, meeting his half-lidded gaze, and let your lips brush his.
Caleb reels back as if burned.
You stare at him as he lifts himself off of you slightly and turns to look out the window, up at the cloudy sky barely illuminated by the moon, where thunder clouds roll out quickly towards the east. Your mouth goes dry when he finally turns to look at you. With pity.
“I apologize, I seem to have misunderstood,” you babble, lip trembling with humiliation. “Uh, I shouldn’t have…that you wanted me.”
Your heart clenches with every stuttered word and you move to get up off the loveseat. You don’t get far before a hand is cupping your face and Caleb slots his lips over yours.
“How could you think,” chu, “that I don’t want you?”
You don’t get a chance to even reply before he’s kissing you again, suckling and licking and biting into your mouth with a fervor that leaves you breathless. You remain frozen for a moment, before kissing back meekly, your own passion a flame compared to his ravenous fire.
“I’ve been holding back for so long, worried I’d scare you,” Caleb pants as he drags his tongue across your bottom lip. His lips connect with yours over and over again, until you’re both dizzy and dazed with lust, as if he cannot bear to part for even a second.
“Caleb,” you can only say, blinking past the fog of arousal.
“Hah, you smell so good,” he blurts, sniffing against your neck. “Need to taste.”
You nod along, and he drops to his knees instantly. Caleb gazes up at you, eyes drinking up the sight of you like this. His large palms make you shiver when they slide under your skirt, skimming your soft thighs and slowly slipping off your panties. A sigh escapes him as he watches the way your arousal clings to the fabric, and he licks his lips.
Then he’s bunching up your skirt around your hips and burying his face against your pussy.
You cry out, clutching the edge of the loveseat underneath you for purchase, as Caleb eats at you like you’re his favorite meal. His slimy tongue curls again and again round your hole, before he presses the flat of it wholly against your clit, the rough buds against your slippery folds creating a friction so delicious you moan.
His lips latch onto your clit and suck cruelly like it’s hard candy, violet eyes peering at you underneath his dark lashes. Your legs kick out, feet flexing as you attempt to not scream at the pleasure.
He’s drooling, chin shiny with your wetness and his own saliva. He grinds his nose against the sticky folds and inhales, eyes rolling black in bliss. “Fuck, y’smell so good,” he rumbles against your pussy.
You flush bright red, cunt fluttering against his tongue.
Caleb makes a keening sort of sound, like a whine. You glance down at the man between your legs, vision foggy with pleasure. It’s almost hypnotic, the way he eagerly sucks and laps at your cunt, the hot pleasure making your toes curl and legs tremble over his shoulders. The fuzziness almost makes you miss the sharp glint of his canines catching under the moonlight.
Almost.
You blink, eyebrows furrowing in mild confusion, but all thoughts turn to mush when his tongue pushes past that tight ring of muscle, delving into your pussy and nudging your walls with a lewd squelch.
You wail, hands flying down to tangle in his brown locks. Your hips move on their own until you’re practically grinding down on his face. Caleb moans appreciatively against your clit, and you fist his hair tighter.
His hair is just as silky and soft underneath your fingers as you’d imagined. Then something twitches in your grip.
You drag your gaze downwards, gently unfurling your hands. At first you think the odd shape on his head is the result of you messing up his hair. But then you look closer, and see the pointy, unmistakable silhouette of ears. Animal-like ears.
Caleb doesn’t notice your growing panic, lost in the taste of you, eyes shut with bliss. All the while, your pleasure dissolves into a heavy tightness in your chest. There’s a flurry of movement just behind his kneeling figure, swaying back and forth animatedly— a tail.
A gasp is wrenched from your throat, and your foot pushes at his shoulder. The moonlight streaks brightly into the cabin, spilling past the window panes. It illuminates the predator between your legs like a warning.
Caleb’s eyes snap to yours at the nudge, dark and hungry. He blinks and his gaze rounds, probably at the shell-shocked expression you wear.
“What’s wrong?” He breathes. You stay silent, barely even breathing.
His hands dart to hover over his head. You watch as an expression of horrid realization dawns on his face, and it’s enough of an indicator that this is real.
You cry out, crawling backwards on the loveseat, clumsily trapping yourself in the nook. Your legs kick out in warning when he reaches for you.
“Little Red,” he pants, lovesick smile twisting his face. It’s supposed to be reassuring, but it looks hysterical. “It’s not— let me explain.”
“Don’t kill me,” you hiccup, voice seizing.
“Baby, never,” Caleb coos, eyebrows knitting together. “I’d never hurt you, my love.”
The passionate words just serve to make you more unsettled, and you shuffle back more, not taking your eyes off him for a second. “Did you…lure me here, to—”
“No, no, I’m sorry,” he rasps, fluffy ears pinned down to his head. His expression drops into a sullen one, lips still glossy with your arousal tugging downwards into a pout. You snap your thighs shut, cunt still uncomfortably damp. “I never wanted you to find out like this. I didn’t want to lie, I just…”
Your eyes dart to the door.
“I did it all for you!” Caleb blurts, chest heaving. His pupils are blown so wide, his eyes are nearly black. They glossily reflect the full moon beaming through the window. “It’s all for you. The—that shepherd, he was planning to hurt you. If you knew why he kept luring you to his ranch…” His tone trails off darkly and his fists clench.
“And, the man who ran that shop, that scum said all those disgusting things to you. I couldn’t stand the idea of his filth touching you, even in words. The baker, he’d deliver your goods late at night, as an excuse to try and peek through your windows and watch you.” He’s rambling so fast you can barely register his words. His breathing gets heavier with every sentence, and his fluffy tail sweeps against the floor anxiously.
“And how do you know all that?” You question breathlessly, head spinning.
Caleb gapes, mouth dropping as he attempts to formulate a response. “Well, I— I…I follow you sometimes, just to—”
“Why?” You cry.
“You know why,” Caleb crawls closer, and despite your yelp of protest, clutches your leg again. He only caresses your skin, but one glance at his dauntingly sharp fingernails has you freezing again. “That night. I know you remember, honey.”
The night that you’ve been trying to forget, that you’ve held against yourself for so long. Maybe you shouldn’t have left the house at all, but the whimpers just outside your window were too loud to ignore. Lying there, curled up against a tree, was a figure of some sort. You thought it an animal, with its fur and keening sounds, yet it was too dark, and the creature was covered in too much mud, for you to make out what it could be. All you could sense was that it was different, and wrongly large.
“Apples,” a breath escapes him, half laugh and half sigh, as if he’s recounting his favorite memory and not one of a near death experience. “You brought me a basket of apples, and said, ‘Here, I don’t have anything else in my home, as the market is tomorrow. But apples are very healthy. Eat them and you’ll feel better.’”
You swallow thickly, staring at him as he recites you word for word.
“One of the ranchers had gotten me good, bullet straight in my chest. I was alone and new to my…transformations, so I couldn’t help devouring all his sheep. I barely managed to flee a mile before collapsing.” Caleb reverently cups your leg with both hands, eyes crinkling as he continues. “But then, like an angel, you came. You offered your kindness, even to an animal like me. Even in my state, I took one look at your red hood and vowed to keep you safe.”
A choked sound escapes you. You’d suspected the beast you’d helped to be the same to later wreak havoc on your town, but for it to be a man? Caleb?
“I love you,” he continues, shifting a bit on his knees. The new position reveals the outline of his arousal pressing needily through his pants, and your stomach flips. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”
A flush burns your cheeks. “Caleb—”
“Please don’t leave, it’s dangerous outside,” he finishes quietly, forehead resting to your knee.
You sit in silence for what feels like eternity, the only sound being the howling wind and Caleb’s ragged breath against your skin. Then your hand drifts low, cupping his ear and petting the velvet fur.
His breath hitches, watery puppy-eyes raising to stare at you. He tilts his head into your touch, lips parting.
“I won’t leave,” you decide with so much certainty it shocks even yourself.
Caleb blinks, before his face splits into a blinding smile, sharp canines poking past his lips. “You…you’ll stay?”
You nod, and he hesitantly straightens, perching next to you. “Thank you,” he leans over you, face looming. “Thank you—”
You kiss him again, and he returns it eagerly, teeth grazing your sensitive lips before licking over it soothingly. His tail thumps rapidly against your leg, hands squeezing every bit of flesh they find. You squeal as he grinds into you seemingly unconsciously, the friction of his clothed erection nudging your clit through your skirt making you cream.
“Hahh, Little Red,” he whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling. He lets out another sound, tongue laving across your throat, before his teeth nip your skin. “You smell, and taste…so good.”
Your legs wrap around his waist, and your skirt bunches up at your hips, baring your bare cunt to his movements. His rough trousers grind against your pussy deliciously, smearing your arousal on his clothes lewdly. It’s like he can’t choose; Caleb nips and sucks at your neck, then peppers your face in gentle kisses, before returning to your lips again in a kiss so messy you’d think him an entirely different person.
“Caleb,” your needy whine rivals his own, and your hands trail lower, sliding under his shirt. “I need you, please!”
“P-poor thing,” he tuts, wasting no time in tugging off his shirt. Your eyes rave him greedily, fingers caress down the toned expanse of his abdomen, lingering suggestively near his happy trail. Caleb’s chest heaves with a shudder. “I, ah, left you all needy, huh?”
His hands slips under your skirt and between your thighs, thumb dragging through your wet slit, a teasing touch that makes your legs jerk. “Don’t worry. Caleb will take care of you.”
The clink of his belt buckle sends a shiver of delight up your spine. A flush glows on his cheeks as you stare down at his red, needy cock, which jerks at your attention. Caleb’s abs clench when your soft, small hand wraps around the head, thumbing the weeping tip gently.
“Fuck,” he gasps, eyebrows knitting together. “Nghh! Don’t do that, I’m gonna cum—”
“Then cum,” you giggle, though it’s hard to tease him when your thighs press together eagerly at the sight of him this pathetic.
“No,” he huffs*,* low and sharp, hiking your leg over his shoulder. “All my cum, hah, needs to go inside you. Need to fill this pussy up, wanna breed you,” Caleb babbles, sharpened canine biting his lip as he stares down at your naked folds.
You inhale, humorous disposition melting into arousal.
Caleb taps his tip against your clit with a lewd click, and you mewl at the slight stimulation. He glides his veiny shaft against your swollen folds, rubbing the bundle of nerves, smearing your sticky arousal all over him.
His shroomy head finally nudges the entrance of your pussy, and you tense, clenching around nothing. Caleb coos, lips skimming your cheekbone.
“Big stretch, yeah?” You nod along, nails already digging crescent moons into his back. He pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and you immediately seize up at the burning stretch, gasping.
“Shit, hah, just relax, angel,” he grits, jaw slacking at the feel of your warm walls gripping him, eyebrows drawn together in bliss. “Fuck, baby, gonna need you to let me in.”
You take a breath, stomach heaving, as he slips in with a pop. He feeds you more, and more yet. Just when you think he’s done, cock pressing so snugly inside you, he pushes in yet another inch, bottoming out.
Slow, leisurely rocks of his hips are quickening until he’s already pounding deep into you, pulling all the way out before bottoming into you with a force that has you squealing. His pelvis slams into your thighs with wet plaps, stinging the flesh pink.
Your pussy flutters and sucks him in greedily, the way he shoves at your g-spot sparking white-hot tingles through your lower belly. It’s hard to control your pitched whimpers, swollen lips parting as you struggle to steady your breathing.
Caleb looks gone, eyes glazed and fixated on your face only. Pants and groans spill from his parted lips like liquor, drunk entirely on your pussy.
Then, like he wasn’t deep enough already— he grabs your other leg and hikes it over his shoulder, folding you into a cruel mating press.
“Cay-leb!” You hiccup at the new angle, tears dotting your lashes as his cock pushes impossibly deeper, drilling into your cervix so hard you see stars.
“It would drive me insane,” he growls against your ear, before nipping the shell, “how you’d smell like everyone else.”
“Now, you smell like me. Mine,” Caleb’s hips pick up, and you can only lay there pliantly, toes curling as his gooey tip rams into your g-spot again and again. “My cute little mate.”
The croon goes straight to your head and you blink fuzzily, a fresh wave of heat flooding your cheeks. “Fuck, you’re so cute, hugging me so snugly,” Caleb presses a sweet kiss to your lips, before his mouth latches to your neck again, and you whine weakly as he sucks yet another possessive mark onto your skin. “Wanna keep you here forever. In these woods, where no one can touch you again.”
The words should ignite fear in you, especially coming from the beast you’ve feared for so long now— but you can only feel a wanton sort of desire.
“Yes,” you blurt, hands running through his messy locks as you rest your forehead against yours. “Nghh! Yes, Caleb, I’m yours.”
Caleb’s ruthless pace doesn’t slow, even as he blinks slowly and then beams, tail swishing happily behind him. “Yeah, hah,” he dots kisses across your nose, gentle contrast to the lewd way his cock batters your poor pussy into a sticky mess, “knew we were fated. You’re my, mm, perfect mate. My angel.”
His cock thrusts in and out of you so fast, kissing your nerves until a white-hot pleasure mounts to a peak. Your cunt forms a frothy ring around him, stretched so tightly over his cock, like it’s trying to suck him in and never let go.
“I’m gonna cum,” you pant, hands batting at his abs. “Please—”
As soon as his fingers stray down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud with tight circles, you cum, clenching hard around Caleb’s cock, soaking him with your arousal. Your thighs quake over his shoulders as he thrusts once, twice— before pressing deep in you and cumming, hot essence flooding your walls.
“Ah,” Caleb gasps and whines, eyes widening for a fraction at the way your pussy flutters around his spent cock. His hips stutter and he collapses lightly on top of you, nuzzling tiredly into your hair.
You both lay there for minutes, panting and sweaty. Caleb whines lightly and presses his nose to your skin again, arms banded around your body till he’s so tightly pressed to you, you’d think he’s trying to fuse you together.
He’s still inside you, but neither of you complain about the wet sticky mess between you two just yet, content to lay there in each other’s arms.
Caleb lifts his head and presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, rousing you from your slight sleepiness. “Little Red. We’ll have to go to your Grandma’s tomorrow morning, then.”
A pang of guilt hits you when you remember your initial purpose of loitering in these woods in the first place. “Yes. Of course.” You pause. “We?”
He shuffles a bit on top of you, attempting to hide his flushed face against your breast. “Well… I thought I’d go with you.”
“Why?” You tug playfully at his ear and he melts instantly, relenting.
“So you can introduce me.”
“Introduce you?” You cast one look at Caleb’s sheepish expression and smile fondly.
“Yes, I will. I’ll introduce you as my boyfriend.”
Caleb’s face splits into a grin and his tail thumps against the cushions at that, and as he’s on you again, peppering ticklish kisses across your neck, your giggles ring out in the warm cabin.
I genuinely need more yandere lads content and not the like dominant type but like more the I will crawl on all fours and hug your leg like a dog while confessing my sick feelings and actions type 🙏
You and me both I absolutely love pathetic men!!!!
Caleb and valko fit this so much!!!!!! They are just two big puppies who beg for your attention and affection!!!
I might be shooting in the dark but like I feel like Latino!LADS would genuinely heal me like yes Colombian Caleb please talk to me in paisa spanish PLEASE Brazilian Rafayel teach me Portuguese (,; ⩌ ;,)
Colombian Caleb is rotting my brain I need him to call me mi amor or bebe type movements
Anon preach!!!!! Preach for everyone in the back!!!!!
Like ughhh Latino lads is a fucking must especially Colombian Caleb I will legit pounce on him……
ᝰ.ᐟDomestic dominance headcanons I can’t stop thinking about
Guiding you through streets with a hand on your hips, moving past you in the kitchen by grabbing your hips or waist to nudge you aside. Maybe they're holding a hot pan or plate and will gently guide you aside with a hand on your hips and words like "Careful baby—there we go, good girl".
Make you keep eye contact with them whenever you speak, it could be you rambling on about your day fidgeting with something on your lap and they will guide you to look up with two fingers to your chin, gently coaxing you to meet their eyes, "Hey, eyes on me, pretty".
Always making sure you're fed. You're busy with work, typing one email after the other and they will come up behind you tap on your cheek and press a fruit slice to your lips "Open. Now" and you do because there's no other choice.
It's always the one worded commands that make you lose it.
"Sit."
"Come here."
"Stop."
You don't carry bags or touch door handles around them and if you try, "what did i say?" With that stern look that makes you shut up instantly.
Pulling you between their legs while they're on a call, pressing your back to their chest as their hand travels up your shirt and traces lazy patterns against your stomach while they talk, making you shudder.
You say something snarky, bratty, they just give you the look, lean in and say "That's not how you speak to me. Try again".
Knows when your exhausted and will come shut your laptop for you with a simple "You're done" and drag you off to bed over their shoulder if your unwilling to leave.
Makes sure you're hydrated, if your water bottle is not as empty as they wish they will simply place it in your hands and cross their arms, standing over you. "Drink. Now".
Will always put your seatbelt on for you, usually with a snarky "There. Try not to die".
Always offering you the best seat in the house with a pat on their lap "Come. Sit."
I honestly think Zayne and Caleb worl be the best at dealing with your self harm habits
When they do initially find out about it they are shocked they are even more shocked when they find out it’s been going on for years.
But they aren’t mad at you oh heavans no!! They are mad at themselves for not seeing the signs and mentally beat themselves up over it.
After that you aren’t aloud around anything sharp Zayne even takes up reading mental health books to get a better understanding who says he can’t be a doctor and your therapist?
While Caleb takes up the role of actively caring for you it’s almost suffocating but you don’t seem to mind you almost melt into it.
