a/n: bros, I don't even know. The devil whispered this to me in my sleep.
Warnings aka menu: RE9 woodsman Leon, witch/cunning woman reader, illegal medical procedures, like 1600s-ish au, filthy raunchy sex, sorta fantasy setting?
The axe drove down into the log and split it clean in half. Leon pushed both sides off the chopping block and bent down to reach for another, freshly cut one, when something stirred in the woods.
He paused, coming back up slowly, tightening the grip on his axe. Wolves usually didn’t come this close, but you could never be sure these days. The villagers had pushed their livestock closer to the edge of the woods, unknowingly luring the wolves closer to civilization. Not that Leon hadn’t warned them. They just didn’t want to listen.
Narrowing his eyes, he stared into the direction of where he had heard the sound from. Wolves were better at not making any noise. Way better. That was a human. A clumsy one at that.
Between the trees, a person came into view. A young woman—slender, malnourished almost, was stalking through the woods.
He sighed. There was only one reason someone like her would come out here by themselves: they were desperate. Desperate enough to follow the hushed whispers, not caring about the risk of getting lost, wandering off the beaten track.
“If you’re looking for her, you took a wrong turn,” he called out. The young woman jumped and stumbled backward, losing her footing and tumbled to the ground. Her foot had caught on one of the roots winding all across the forest floor. Hissing in pain, she tried to pry her ankle loose, but it wouldn’t budge.
Leon sighed, wedged the axe loose from the chopping block and walked up to her. Her eyes went wide when she saw what he was carrying and she held her hands in front of her body.
“Please, no,” she whimpered, but Leon had already lifted his axe and sent it flying down. The woman cried out, squeezing her eyes shut.
Leon wordlessly kicked at the root that was now cut clean in half and set her ankle free.
“Can you move it?” he asked, crouching down and lifted the remnants of the tangled tendrils off her foot.
She tentatively tried to wiggle it, but winced and grasped her ankle with both hands.
Leon clicked his tongue. “I’m going to take that as a no.” He held out a hand toward the girl and she eyed him for a minute, unsure if him cutting the root was enough to trust him.
“What’s your name?”
“G-Grace,” she stammered, trying to get up off the forest floor by herself, failing and eventually settling on grabbing his hand, letting him pull her back up onto her feet.
“What are you doing out here, Grace?” Leon asked, stabilising her with one hand on her shoulder. “This is no place to be so close to nightfall.”
She tentatively put weight onto her foot, grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. “I was…looking for some firewood,” she whispered, avoiding his gaze, brushing some rogue light blonde strands of hair back into her braid.
Leon nodded, the sweltering August sun being blocked out by the crown of the trees above them. “I know where she lives, I can take you to her.”
Grace’s head whipped around and her breathing became shallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re not the first woman to stumble through these woods, desperate for her medicine,” he said, “And you won’t be the last.”
“That kind of medicine is sin,” Grace breathed and Leon let go of her.
“If you say so,” he murmured, hoisting the axe higher up on his shoulder and started walking back to his chopping block.
“You know where she lives?” Grace quaked out after a few steps and he stilled, looking at her from the corner of his eye.
“I’ve been getting lost all day.” The poor girl was close to sobbing, clutching her midsection. “I don’t know where else to go,” she whispered, chin quivering.
“Nobody does,” Leon murmured and slipped one arm under her shoulder, supporting her and her twisted ankle. “Looks like you need her for two things now.”
Slower than usual, he made his way up to your house in the woods. He knew the way well. Too well for his own liking. In fact, he could probably find it in the dark with his eyes closed if he had to.
The invisible bond keeping you two tethered together had grown stronger over the years, even though neither of you had intended it to happen. Between harsh winters where you had run out of firewood, an infected cut in his palm that had turned into a vicious fever and a roof that needed fixing, your fates had become somewhat intertwined. Woven together by some ethereal thread. Fate maybe.
Or necessity, Leon reminded himself.
That’s all it was.
You spotted the two figures approaching from your garden gate while watering your plants. Ignoring the way your heart stumbled into a sprint when you realised it was the woodsman, you set down the bucket and wiped your hands on your skirt. It wasn’t the first time Leon had dropped a desperate young woman off at your doorstep.
Too many of them got lost in their frantic pursuit of seeking your help. Each one of them deciding the risk was worth it if it meant they had a chance of getting what they needed. It was only a matter of time until they came across the only other person living this far out from the village.
You opened the gate, Leon carrying the girl over the threshold and straight into your home.
“Who do we have here?” you asked, following them inside.
“Grace,” Leon murmured. “She twisted her ankle.”
You cocked your head. “A saving grace,” you whispered, “Who got you into trouble?”
“Myself,” Grace mumbled, blinking rapidly, staring at the ground as Leon set her down on a small wooden chair. Did he remember that he had made that one for you? Probably not. It was too long ago.
You pursed your lips. “Yeah, that’s what they want you to say,” you said, extending a hand for her to take it.
“Thank you,” you murmured, turning your head toward Leon, who stood by her side, arms crossed over his broad chest. He nodded curtly, ignoring the way your linen dress hugged your form and was barely hanging on, tied together over your full breasts with two strings that would be so easy to loosen. Like he had done countless times before.
“Anytime.” He forced himself to walk out your door but that invisible tether kept pulling him back inside. No matter how hard he tried.
Sometimes he wondered if the villagers were right and this was in fact witchcraft. That you were using the dark arts to keep him addicted to you, on his knees and enslaved by his own desire at the altar of your supple flesh.
He let out a shaky breath and squared his shoulders, stepping over the threshold and back out onto the clearing.
Nightfall came and dipped everything into eerie silence. Leon was already in bed, but he wasn’t asleep. He was staring at the wooden beams on the ceiling, one arm tucked in behind his head, the other one resting on his naked chest.
It was late.
Very late.
And a full moon.
He knew he should get rid of the habit of staying up, but he couldn’t help it. It was like the tether that kept you two connected pulled him out of his sleep time and time again until he heard a knock on the door.
Like tonight.
Leaning in the doorframe, he pushed the door open. Behind it stood you, bathed in moonlight. His lips parted and his gaze softened. No matter how hard he tried, there was no forgetting that you were the most beautiful thing he had ever set eyes on.
“I ran out of firewood.”
“It’s August.”
A smile tugged at your sinful lips, one of them disappearing between pearlwhite teeth. Leon sighed and bunched up the fabric of your dress hugging your waist, pulling you to him. Your hands came to rest on his naked chest on impact. Years of felling trees and chopping wood had hardened his body into a solid wall of muscle and feeling it beneath your palms made your breath hitch in your throat every time.
His lips came crashing down to yours and your eyes fluttered shut. Leon kissed you with all the desperation and frantic lust of a prisoner who would never see the light of day ever again. Panting into his mouth, you anchored yourself, gripping the back of his neck as he pulled you into his home, pushing the door shut behind you.
Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct and he carried you over to the nearest surface he could find, setting you down on the kitchen table. He pulled at the string holding your dress together in the front, the fabric unravelling and exposing your soft body to him. He latched onto your skin, sucking, biting like he had been starved for years, when in reality it had only been a month since you had last come over in the shrouded embrace of the night.
Leon moved lower, nudging your thighs apart but you pulled him back up by his hair, earning a frustrated groan from him.
“Why can’t I kiss you there?”
“Because that’s where husbands kiss their wives and I’m not your wife,” you said, shutting him up with a fiery kiss, but your tongue only found bared teeth.
“Are you going to stay till morning this time?” Leon hissed, pushing himself between your thighs and touching you where he had intended to kiss you before.
You bit back a moan, as he parted your folds and expertly found your most sensitive spot, rubbing close circles around it with his calloused fingers. You shook your head, reaching for his pants, pushing them over his hips, his hardened length hitting the soft skin of your lower belly.
Leon growled, working you harder, helplessly pushing himself up against you for some friction. A breathy moan fell from your lips and you closed your hand around his shaft, caressing the tip of his cock with your thumb, spreading the sticky liquid that had gathered there.
Leon’s brows knitted together and a heady moan found the shell of your ear, as he let his head fall forward, biting down on the sensitive skin of your neck. You gasped, but his tongue flicked over the bite mark right after, as if asking for forgiveness.
He reached between your bodies, aligning himself with your entrance, slicking himself with your juices and you shivered with anticipation. The head of Leon’s cock prodding at your entrance was your favourite feeling in the entire world, so full of promise of unspeakable pleasure. That little secret would never reach his ears though.
“Stay.”
A shaky breath slipped past your lips, as you felt him push in and your fingernails digged into his shoulders, fitting perfectly into the scratches where his skin was still sore from the last time. “No,” you gasped and he sank into you, filling you up in a deliciously burning stretch. Leon groaned and started thrusting into you, eliciting a helpless whimper from you with each brush up against your inner walls.
“Fucking stay,” he choked out, burying his face in the crook of your neck and his cock deep inside of you with a punishing thrust.
You cried out, gripping him tighter, your pussy clenching around him. You shook your head, a tear forming at the corner of your eye. “No.”
Leon lifted you up and stumbled backward until the back of his legs hit his bed and he sank down, grabbing a handful of your ass, guiding your movements.
“You can carry me into your bed all you want,” you panted, rolling your hips against his, the friction of his pubic bone against your clit making your movements more frantic, “that will not make me stay the night.”
Leon grunted, pressing his head between your breasts, licking at them, capturing one of your nipples between his lips.
You arched your back, watching him suck on your tit, as you rode him, his thick cock hitting deeper inside you, the tip of him kissing your cervix, making you see stars.
“Oh fuck, Leon,” you moaned, rubbing up against him more, until he pushed you back, holding you in place with the hand that was still gripping your ass, thrusting up into you at an even more intoxicating angle, as his other hand started playing with your clit.
You anchored yourself to his shoulders, mouth falling open with the most obscene moans, the coil of pleasure in your abdomen about to snap at any moment.
“Marry me.” Leon’s voice broke into a moan, letting you know he was moments from losing it too.
You shook your head again, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure becoming too much to bear, as you felt yourself ripple around him.
“Never.”
Leon grabbed you tighter, pushing you onto the bed, your legs spread wide, as he continued fucking you, hips snapping against yours, skin slapping against wet skin, as you clawed at his back, pressing the side of your face to his.
You cried out his name, locking your legs behind his ass, pushing him deeper into you if that was even possible, as white hot pleasure washed over you.
Leon let out a strangled sound, biting down on your neck again, his last helpless attempt at marking you as his as he lost his rhythm, spilling into you with a guttural groan.
He didn’t need to reach out his hand to know that the other side of his bed was cold. An iron fist closed around his heart as he pushed himself out of bed, walking back into the kitchen.
Your dress was sprawled out atop the table, staring back at him. He swallowed, throat bobbing. You always left your dress—and never came back for it. He had a collection of your dresses in one of the trunks in his bedroom like he had a habit of killing young women at every full moon.
But it was you killing parts of him every month, only to stalk off butt naked into the night, worse, into the woods by yourself. No matter what he did to make you stay.
He let out a deep sigh, picked up the sheer fabric and lifted it to his face, inhaling your scent, telling himself it was still warm, still bore remnants of your skin. His face contorted in pain and he tossed the dress into the trunk with the others, sealing it shut.
He walked out the door, closing his eyes, clearing his mind with the clean air of the morning that was so different from the thick, heady musk the joining of your bodies had left behind in his bedroom. It was driving him mad. Slowly but surely, you were unravelling his sanity, on full moon at a time, thread by thread until he eventually came apart.
Yet, he couldn’t stop giving in.
“Well met, woodcutter. Isn’t this a fine morning?”
Leon crinkled his nose and cracked one eye open. A man came into view, clad in a woolen doublet and high collared mantle.
“It was until you showed up.”
The man chuckled and reigned in his horse. “Rough night?”
Leon shrugged, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Do you know where the woman lives?” he asked, leaning in a little over his saddle.
Leon narrowed his eyes at him, but he gave him a tight-lipped shake of the head. “What woman?”
Men typically didn’t come here to look for your help. It was only other women. Desperate young women most of the time, some of them stayed hidden with you until they were fit to return to whatever fate awaited them outside of these woods. And then others, they never did come back—because you helped them disappear.
But never men.
“The woman who lives out in the woods by herself.”
Leon grimaced. “If there was a woman living here, don’t you think I would know?”
The man wrinkled his forehead and nodded. “I suppose so.”
Leon nodded curtly. “Well met,” he imitated the man’s pompous tone and stalked over to his chopping block, wedging the axe loose.
The man guided his horse away from his home and Leon couldn’t help but watch him closely as he left. There was a book sticking out of one of his saddle bags.
MALLEUS MALEFICARUM it said on the leather binding.
Languages tend to peak at their word for butterfly. Never seen 2 that are the same, either. Papillon. Mariposa. Borboleta. Fluture. Vlinder. Schmetterling. Pillangó. Babochka. Farfalla. Sommerfugl. Perhonen. Farasha. Titali. Chōchō. Nabi. Húdié. Buom buom. Great job guys, i really mean it.
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