what?

[grapev1ne]

Seeing Double

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⚠️WARNING! this fic contains - Smut - Light Choking - Major creampies - Threesomes - BADLY WRITTEN SMUT⚠️

Hello everyone! I’ve been seeing people on tik tok make like short AU’s of there being a clone of Leon, and I’ve just been thinking about how hot cool it would be to have two of him at the same time living with us and other things like that. That’s basically what this fic is

CLONE LEON

REAL LEON

⚠️Smut versions at the bottom⚠️

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Re2 Leon!

You lay on the couch in Leon’s apartment, you were nestled warmly between the two of them, One was the true Leon, familiar in every quiet way that mattered, while the other was his perfect clone, carrying the same presence, the same warmth, the same steady touch. Between them, you were carefully kept, as though they had wordlessly agreed that you belonged in the middle of them.

Your head rested against Leon’s chest, rising and falling with the slow rhythm of his breathing. Beneath your cheek, you could feel the calm beat of his heart, steady and reassuring.

Behind you, Leon lay draped across both of you, his weight comforting rather than heavy. His chest pressed softly to your lower back, warm and solid, while his head rested between your shoulders with a quiet sort of trust. His breath ghosted across your skin in slow intervals, and every exhale seemed to melt whatever tension remained in you.

Both of them held you tightly, their arms entwined around your frame until there was scarcely any space left untouched by warmth. One pair of hands rested over your waist, the other curled around your shoulders, each embrace overlapping the next until it felt less like being held and more like being enveloped entirely.

You remained sandwiched between Leon and his clone, caught in the quiet center of their affection, where every touch was deliberate and every moment stretched, sweet. Simple. and incredibly soft.

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Re4 Leon!

He hated sharing. The feeling sat in Leon like a splinter beneath the skin, sharp and impossible to ignore. He had nearly thrown the clone out of the condo five times in a single week, each attempt ending only because something stopped him before he could follow through. Every time he came home and found you curled up with the clone on the couch, his temper would rise without fail. He would cross the room, pry you away with little patience, and settle himself between you both with a possessive arm around your waist and a glare that promised no argument.

The clone only found it amusing, which made Leon all the worse.

Still, there were rare nights when an uneasy truce settled over the room. Nights like this one, with the condo dim beneath the glow of the television and rain tapping softly at the windows. Leon sat at the armrest of the couch, one hand scrolling idly through his phone while his other arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you tucked close against his side. Beside you, the clone lay stretched across the cushions with his head resting in your lap, eyes half closed as you slowly ran your fingers through his blond hair.

Leon noticed every gentle pass of your hand. His grip around you tightened slightly, subtle but certain. He still hated sharing, but for tonight he would allow it. Only because of how peacefully quiet he was being.

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Re9 Leon!

It was not that Leon minded having his clone stay beneath the same roof. He could tolerate the shared space, the second pair of footsteps in the hall, the familiar face occupying rooms that should have felt singularly his. What he could not tolerate, what lodged beneath his skin like a thorn, was the simple fact that the clone wanted his wife just as much as he did.

Still, Leon was a practical man when it suited him. So long as he remained the center of your affections, the first place your eyes searched for, the hands you reached for before any other, then peace could be maintained. Uneasy, guarded peace, perhaps, but peace all the same.

Tonight was one of those quieter arrangements.

The house lay dim and warm against the storm outside. Rain struck hard against the windows and rattled faintly through the walls, while some forgettable romance movie murmured from the television in a wash of soft voices and music. On the couch, you sat nestled between your husbands, held carefully in the middle of a balance only barely maintained.

Leon was before you, close enough that there was no room left for distance. His hand rested at your waist while the other moved slowly over the softness of your stomach, steady and absent in its touch. His lips were locked with yours in a tender, unhurried kiss, patient enough to seem calm, though there was always something possessive beneath it. Every slow movement carried the quiet message that you were his first.

Behind you, Leon seemed content to play the part of second place, though only on the surface. His lips brushed gently along the side of your neck, warm and lingering against your skin. His hands wandered in slow paths from your hips to your thighs beneath the fabric of your pants, soothing rather than demanding, as though he had all the time in the world to earn what Leon insisted belonged to him already. Every now and then their arms would brush where they held you.

Each time it happened, Leon’s eyes would open just enough to cast a sharp glance over your shoulder, a silent warning edged in irritation. The clone would only smile faintly against your throat and continue exactly as he was, never rushing, never retreating.

Then Leon would kiss you deeper, slower, with renewed purpose. And making sure to tug you just a little closer to his side, And the clone’s hands would settle a little more firmly at your hips to keep you still. Civil as they were, neither man had ever truly stopped competing.

⚠️smut versions below⚠️

Re2 Leon!

One of the many blessings of loving someone as sweet as Leon was the tenderness he carried into every part of your life, even the most private corners of it. He had always been attentive, never hurried, never careless. Every touch was measured by devotion, every kiss given with patience, every moment guided by the quiet need to make certain you were cherished as much as you were desired. Leon had never been the sort of man to seek only his own satisfaction. Your pleasure had always been woven into his from the very beginning.

But now there were two of them.

They had made it their unspoken mission to see you trembling and breathless and satisfied long before either of them thought of themselves. Neither would say it aloud, of course. Pride would never allow such honesty. Yet it was written in every glance they exchanged, in every subtle shift of movement, they both wanted your undivided attention. the tenderness of the act had turned it into a competition.

You lay across the bed, sheets tangled beneath you, your upper half cradled securely in Leon’s arms. He held you close against his chest as though shielding you from the world itself, kissing you with slow sweetness that stole the air from your lungs. One hand supported the curve of your back, keeping you upright against him, while the other rested over your chest, caressing with gentle familiarity that made your pulse flutter harder.

Between your legs, Leon knelt with more interest of making your legs shake.

His arms were hooked beneath your thighs, keeping them parted with a firmness that contrasted the softness of his mouth. He moved with maddening care, taking his time as though savoring every reaction he drew from you. Every so often, Leon behind you would glance downward with soft eyes before reaching past your body, fingers brushing your clit to join in for only a moment, coaxing another shiver from your already sensitive frame.

The one between your thighs would answer by tightening his grip, desperate to keep you close. The one holding you would kiss you deeper. Neither spoke a word.

You had already come undone twice beneath their careful attention, your body trembling from the lingering aftershocks, every nerve left tender and bright with sensation. Still, neither of them seemed remotely finished with their efforts of earning your attention.

You were quite certain that when it became Leon’s turn again, he would show no trouble of overstimulating you in order prove his worth to you as well.

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Re4 Leon!

The rare moments of strained civility between them were fleeting, brittle things, fragile truces forged not from peace, but from mutual obsession and rivalry. Even now, it lingered in the air, sharp and suffocating, as though either man might shatter it at any second just to prove he could.

You were caught between them, exactly where they both insisted you belonged. Leon’s grip was firm, possessive, his movements measured and deliberate as he thrust into you at a steady, unyielding pace. There was no hesitation, Showing you how much better he was, His gaze, dark and unrelenting, never left the man before him, his mirror, his mockery, his enemy.

Because the other Leon, his clone stood there with equal intensity, eyes burning with the same fire, the same hunger, the same unbearable need to take what the other claimed. Only one rule held absolute. The hill that he would die on.

Only Leon was allowed inside your pussy

Leon obeyed that rule with visible restraint, though the tension in his jaw betrayed how much it cost him. Instead, he took what he could, guiding you forward, your mouth wrapped around him as his fingers reached for your clit. His touch was gentle, but there was something deliberate beneath it, something calculated to provoke.

Every thrust Leon gave you drove you forward, deeper onto the clone, forcing the rhythm between all three of you into something inescapable. It wasn’t cooperation. It was competition.

A silent, contest. Of which one was better. Leon’s eyes narrowed further, his voice low and edged with warning as he watched the clone. “Don’t get comfortable.”

The clone huffed a quiet, humorless laugh, his hand never faltering. “You say that like you’re in control.” Another thrust, harder this time forced a reaction from you, your body tightening, your breath catching. The clone felt it immediately, his expression flickering with satisfaction, while Leon’s grip tightened in response, possessiveness flaring into something sharper.

Neither of them would yield. The clone’s fingers continued their precise, but soft motions, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. Every small reaction from you became fuel, proof, leverage, something each of them tried to claim as their own doing. Your body betrayed you first.

The tension broke, the coil in your stomach snapped, Pleasure flowing through you as you came around Leon’s cock, your body trembling, your control slipping entirely. The sudden shift sent a ripple through both men, the clone stiffened, a quiet, involuntary reaction passing through him as he followed shortly after. You had no choice but to swallow. to endure it, or choke, you were caught exactly where they had placed you. For a brief moment, something softened.

The clone pulled back, his hand rising to your face, brushing your cheek with an unexpected gentleness. His expression shifted, just slightly, as he looked at you, the clone was happy to see your tired face. It was peaceful.. for a minute.

It didn’t last.

Leon’s pace never faltered, if anything, it grew more desperate, more consuming as though he needed to overwrite that moment entirely. To erase it. To remind both of you who held the final claim. That he was the original. With one last, decisive thrust, he reached his peak, his grip tightening as he buried himself fully inside you, Staying still as he painted your walls on thick white cum, before finally pulling away.

The silence that followed was heavy, charged, unfinished. Leon exhaled slowly, his eyes flicking once more to the clone, the rivalry between them reigniting instantly, as if the fragile ceasefire had never existed at all, Leon reached down to lift you up, Holding you against him. His hand softly rubbing your back.

“This doesn’t change anything,” he muttered. The clone smirked faintly, wiping his hand against his sleeve as his gaze lingered on you, then returned to Leon. “It never does.” And just like that, whatever fragile balance had existed shattered completely. Because moments like this, moments where you were allowed between them were rare. But they never lasted.

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Re9 Leon!

They’re silent rivalry was always thrown to the side, As they would both rather die than possibly injure you during a time so sacred as sex. The real Leon and the clone of Leon were both close to eachother, they’re dicks pressed together, and you, riding them both at the same time, the real Leon being in front.

His mouth sucked at the skin of your neck, The clone was behind, your head turned and kissing you sweetly, his hand kneading one of your breasts. For a while, the world narrowed to sensation and breath, to the quiet rhythm they built together around you. Their movements fell into a perfect sync.

Your strength wavered, the sensation overwhelming in its fullness, and they noticed immediately. Leon’s hands tightened just slightly at your hips, steadying you, keeping you upright. “Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring.

The other echoed him in his own way, his touch smoothing along your side, anchoring you with a quiet kind of care. And then, as if guided by the same unspoken instinct, they slowed just enough to let you breathe, just enough to draw the moment out into something deeper, something shared.

“Stay with me,” Leon whispered, his forehead resting briefly against the back of your shoulder.

Together, they brought you back into that grinding rhythm, gentler now, more deliberate. The tension built not from urgency, but from closeness from the way they moved with you.

And when the moment finally crested, it did so all at once, shared and intertwined. There was no competition in it, no victory to claim, only the quiet understanding that they had reached it together.

In the aftermath, their touches lingered, softer now, as if neither was quite ready to let go. Leon brushed a hand along your arm, The other stayed close, his presence warm and steady at your back. Soft breaths warming your skin in both directions, Your pussy feeling so full, Now with both of their cocks, And overflow of cum.

This would be a few of the only few times Leon was okay with his clone touching you.

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[grapev1ne]

Burning Moonlight

🌑🌘🌗🌖🌕🌔🌓🌒🌑

HELLO! Welcome back, This is a longer Oneshot of Werewolf!Leon x fem!reader

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MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

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PLEASE READ

This fic contains >> Smut ][ Gore ][ Rough Seggs ][ very very subtle non consenting, But don’t worry cause you do eventually ][

Consent is awesome guys, Please ALWAYS get consent before you touch anyone in any way! It’s just written the way it is cause Leon is a werewolf and is rutting..

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You had, perhaps foolishly, developed a quiet crush on your boss.. It was nothing dramatic, nothing you would ever dare act on. It lived in small things, in the way you remembered how he took his coffee, in the way your pulse quickened just slightly when he spoke your name.

Working as his assistant was otherwise unremarkable. You handled paperwork, delivered files, and occasionally brought him said coffee. Yet, threaded through the routine were moments that unsettled you. Brief, accidental brushes of hands. Glances that lingered a second too long before you looked away.

There was something else, too. Something you couldn’t explain. At the turn of every month, as if governed by some private calendar, Leon would change. He grew distant, quieter, as though retreating behind something unseen. 

And then there was the staring.

It was never crude, never obvious. If anything, it felt restrained. You would enter his office, place a neat stack of papers on his desk, and feel it. His gaze, fixed, unwavering. Not harsh, not angry, but intense in a way that made your breath catch. When you finally glanced up, his eyes would already be on you, blue and steady, holding something carefully contained. You would always be the first to look away.

You told yourself it meant nothing. That you were imagining it.

Still, your skin prickled as you left his office, aware of that gaze lingering even after the door closed. This happened every month. A few days of quiet tension, of watchful silence. And then he would disappear for 2-3 days.. only to return as though nothing had happened at all.

By the third day, halfway through your shift, And the third delivery of paperwork, the weight of it became too much to ignore.

When you stepped into his office again, folder in hand, the air felt the same. Still, taut, as though something unsaid pressed between you. You set the folder down, gathered the completed documents, and paused. Drawing in a steadying breath, you turned to face him.

“Can I get you something. coffee?”

You watched as his eyes lifted to meet yours. There was the faintest flicker of surprise, quickly mastered. For a moment, something in his expression tightened, as though he were holding himself in place through sheer will.

Then it was gone.

“No,” he said evenly. “You may leave.”

And you did, With a lingering almost confused stare towards him you turned and left the room. And when the door closed you let out a shaky breath, silently praying that he wouldn’t write a complaint and the department would fire you.

And you continued on with your day. Trying to preoccupy yourself with small side tasks to make your shift pass by faster.

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After you clocked out, you made your way home beneath a sky that felt unusually gentle. The night carried a quiet stillness, the full moon slipping in and out of view behind drifting clouds. The air was soft and cool as you turned onto your street, the familiar outline of your home coming into view. Beyond it stretched the forest, wide and unbroken, a presence you had long since grown used to.

Everything felt calm. Untroubled.

The stillness lingered as you stepped inside, and the thought came to you almost naturally. A walk might be nice. Something simple, something to extend the quiet ease of the evening. You changed out of your work clothes and laced your running shoes, the small ritual grounding and unhurried.

Soon enough, you stepped out into your backyard. The path leading into the trees was narrow but well worn, its course familiar beneath your feet. Without hesitation, you followed it, slipping into the forest as though it were just another part of home.

The night carried a quiet that felt almost deliberate, a stillness so complete it seemed to press gently against your skin rather than surround you. You moved along the narrow dirt trail at an unhurried pace, guided only by the pale, watchful glow of the moon filtering through the canopy above. The forest breathed in hushed rhythms, leaves whispering faintly, branches shifting just enough to remind you they were there.

It was peaceful in a way that felt carefully arranged, as though the woods had chosen to be kind for now. The path beneath your feet had begun to dissolve into patches of damp grass, the earth soft and cool, while the air grew sharper with each step. The chill brushed your face with a quiet intimacy that felt refreshing, almost inviting, there was something in it that lingered a moment too long.

Somewhere in the distance, a coyote called out, and the sound pulled your attention without permission. You were no stranger to them. Their voices were a familiar part of these woods, rising and falling in sharp, high pitched cries that carried like echoes of something human. You had heard them countless times from the edge of your home, so often that their presence had become part of the forest’s identity.

But this sound did not quite belong. It stretched longer, deeper, less frantic and more deliberate, a low howl that seemed to settle into the silence rather than break it. You paused, listening, Coyotes were unpredictable, their voices varied. Still, the thought did not sit easily. It lingered just beneath your awareness, quiet and persistent, as you continued forward into the trees that no longer felt quite as welcoming as they had moments before.

You paid it no mind and kept moving.

The dirt path had vanished at some point, replaced by a soft carpet of earth that whispered beneath your steps instead of crunching. Still, everything felt ordinary. Just a quiet walk at night after a long day. Nothing unusual ever happened to people like you. You kept your gaze lifted, tracing the outlines of trees etched against the pale glow of the moon.

Then your foot came down on something that did not belong.

It gave way with a brittle crack, sharp and unmistakable. Not the gentle snap of a twig, but something heavier, more final. You froze. For a moment, you only listened, as though the forest might explain the sound.

Slowly, you reached for your phone and turned on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, wavering slightly as you stepped back and lowered it toward the ground. A deer lay there, its body ruined and still. Almost scattered, The poor thing was everywhere.. blood scattered on the trees around the gruesome sight.

Even in the dim light, it was clear that whatever had happened here had not been gentle. You told yourself it must have been coyotes. This forest was full of them, after all.. There was no reason to imagine anything else.

That was enough. Time to go home. You turned, expecting the familiar path to reappear and guide you out. Instead, you found only more grass, stretching in every direction. The trees seemed closer now, their shadows thicker, pressing inward.

The path was gone. A hollow feeling settled in your chest. You pulled up your maps, tapping the screen with growing urgency, but there was no signal. No direction. No reassurance.

“Fuck..”

The air felt different now, heavier somehow. The moon slipped behind a veil of clouds, and the forest darkened as if it had drawn a curtain. It crossed your mind then, unwelcome and persistent. You had overstayed your welcome. And the forest was no longer willing to let you leave..

A low, guttural growl rose from the brush, and your body went rigid. That was no coyote. The sound was deeper, heavier, resonating through the trees as something approached. Each step carried an unnatural weight, trembling the forest floor, deliberate and unsteady, yet unmistakably on two feet.

Slowly, you turned. Your hand trembled as you lifted the flashlight, its beam cutting weakly through the darkness. Coyotes did not walk upright, and they were never this large.

The light found its face.

A wolfish head stared back at you, massive and the mouth covered in blood. Thick blond fur covered its form, and its height towered beyond anything natural. The sight hollowed your chest, your legs threatening to give way beneath you.

Then it roared.

The sound shattered the stillness, and you cried out, dropping your phone as you spun to run. Panic seized your movements, your breath tearing from your lungs as you stumbled forward. Behind you, it gave chase. But it did not follow in a straight line. You could hear it shifting, weaving from side to side, calculating, anticipating, as though it were trying to cut you off. Its presence loomed larger with every second, relentless and furious, closing the distance with terrifying intent.

You cried out for help, your voice breaking as it tore through the trees, grasping at the faint hope that someone, anyone, might hear. Yet even as the sound left your lips, you knew the truth. No one was coming.

Your fight ended in an instant.

A heavy, clawed hand seized the back of your throat and wrenched you backward before slamming your back into the grass. The impact stole the air from your lungs and left your mind reeling, your vision swimming in a haze of light and shadow. For a moment, the world blurred into nothing. But instinct forced you to move.

You struggled beneath it, desperate and uncoordinated, driven by the raw refusal to die. One arm lashed upward in a frantic attempt to strike, to push, to do anything at all. It caught your wrist with ease, forcing it down into the earth beside your head. The other arm flailed uselessly, your legs kicking wildly against the ground in blind panic. It growled, loud and warning. And you broke. A sob tore from your chest, sharp and helpless, as fear overwhelmed whatever strength you had left.

But your eyes opened, forcing yourself to look. To see the thing that was about to end you, the same way it had torn apart the deer. Its face loomed above you. And then you saw its eyes. They were not wild, not empty, not wholly monstrous. They held something else. A clarity that did not belong. A piercing blue that struck you with a sudden, disorienting familiarity. They were focused, intent, and shaped by an expression you had seen before, one that did not belong to a beast. Your breath caught.

“Leon-”A sharp gasp escaped as its cold muzzle pressed against your exposed neck, the fabric of your clothing displaced from the force of the struggle. It inhaled in fast, deliberate breaths, as if searching for something in your scent.

Those eyes could not be mistaken. The truth settled over you with a quiet, devastating weight, sinking deep into your chest. What had he become? Before you could gather another breath, Your eyes fell down to the thick patch of blonde fur between his legs.. Big.. uneven and swollen with poorly concealed lust, it glistened in the moonlight, Almost pulsing.

Your eyes widened and you began to thrash again. “Leon, Please! you can’t just-” you tried to cry, To break through this feral state of mind he was stuck in. your shoes pushed against the damp leaf covered earth as you tried to crawl away, but with wrenching strength you were whirled around onto your belly.

He loomed above you. A growl rumbled from his throat, low and unsteady, vibrating through you where he held you down. Yet there was something fractured within it, something uneven. Beneath the threat, there was a faint, strained whimper, as though the sound itself caused him pain.

And you did not scream. The fear was still there, sharp and suffocating, but it no longer ruled you in the same way. Something else had taken hold, something quieter, more fragile, and far more dangerous.

“Leon?” you whispered.

Your voice was barely more than breath, trembling as it left you. Slowly, as though any sudden movement might shatter whatever tenuous restraint remained, you lifted your hand. Your fingers shook as they reached for him, hesitating only for a moment before coming to rest against his wrist, where it pressed into the ground by your head.

At your touch, his ears drew back.

A small, defensive growl slipped free, softer now, edged with uncertainty rather than pure aggression. His body tensed beneath your hand, caught between instinct and something else he could not fully suppress.

And yet, he did not strike.

“It’s okay, Leon..”

The violent intent that had driven him only moments before seemed to falter, replaced by a restless hesitation. He remained over you, breath heavy, eyes fixed on yours, but the certainty of death no longer lingered so close.

Then suddenly you heard your own name, it sounded like it almost hurt to speak, Like it took so much effort to utter. And your racing heart slowed just slightly, He always had such a soothing voice.. Even in this state..

“Can’t.. Control it anymore...” he whispered against the back of your neck, you didn’t know what to do, You shook your head as his claws tore at your clothing, his large hand tore your leggings before pulling your hips up, His nails dug into your flesh, Making you let out a sharp cry, tears that pooled in your eyes spilled as your sex was now bare to the chilly forest.. To him.

His cold wet nose pressed against your folds, Breathing you in, You heard a rapid thumping, You were almost sure it was your own heartbeat.. but it was his tail hitting the forest floor. You shrank as his nose rubbed over your clit.

He licked a quick and harsh strip through your folds, making you jump as the soft muscle slid against your clit, And then another, until his tongue sawed against the aching bundle of nerves rough and slow Your cunts juices flowed down onto his tongue, Joining his building saliva.

“Leon.. Please wait-“

You managed to choke out before his tongue slid into your dripping hole, your hand around his wrist gripped at the fur, And the other at the grass.

It dragged against your insides, curving and carving itself a home in your pussy, your climax shook you out of your daze like state, a sharp moan rippling through your throat, But he pulled away before you could get attached to the feeling. You took a moment to breathe, To relax- Until you felt the cold bulbous tip pressing against your entrance, You shook your head and tried to block him with your legs.

“God- Leon please wait a second!” you tried but were met with a low growl. “Wait… I’ve waited long enough.” He said against your ear.. but he did relent for just a moment, Allowing you to catch your breath and think for a minute..

Then finally he pushed your legs out of the way, And then he thrust deep inside your cunt. Almost Knocking the air from your lungs despite being given a moment. Walls fluttering uselessly around him, hand holding onto his wrist like a lifeline as he pulled out, Almost dragging your body with him before he slammed his hips back against yours. Drawing more cries and whimpers from you, Saliva from his mouth dripped onto your back as he started a constant pace.

Sharp, unrelenting, And breath taking.

All your noises seemed to encourage him, His hips thrust fast, Your second climax shocked you as it washed over, forcing your walls to clench tight around his cock, You closed your teary eyes.

—

You had been in this position for what seemed like forever.. Your back has started to ache, And your skin was littered with scratches caked with blood, And bite marks, he had came inside you twice, And you lost count of your own. But he was still going, You had long stopped fighting, Stopped moving that is, you were being being up by his large paws.

You didn’t know how long you were going to be here for.. That was until he pulled out… it made you perk up, dizzy eyes searching for the mans face, then you were suddenly moved, turned around to face him as he layed back against a tree.

You stared up at him, And he did the same, His eyes that were once filled with a cold restraint looked down at you with such a tender fondness, then he leaned down and licked the tears off your face, before you sank back down on his still hard cock.

It drew tired mewls from you. but you just stared at him.. before his paws on your hips gripped, And then pulled, you winced and looked down at the large bulbous knot he was trying to work into your puffy pussy.

“w-what.. Leon..” you didn’t have a chance to speak before it thrust up into place, the knot sliding in almost staggeringly quick, thick ropes of cum dripping down onto the forest floor, It dripped down and soaked the forest beneath. followed by a tired gasp from you, locking you onto him.

“It hurts.” You gasped against his chest, His arms wrapped around you holding you close to him.

“I know.. get comfortable..” he’d whisper.

———

After you were completely knocked out the two of you layed there for almost 2 hours before he turned back into himself. Knot loosing and pulling out of your overused hole, Feeling so embarrassed for what had just taken place. he brought you back to his place, Which wasn’t too far away thank god.

He bathed you and everything and finally let your aching body rest in his bed, meanwhile he stay awake. At the edge with his head in his hands.

how the hell he was going to fix this.

[grapev1ne]

✨Morning Gorgeous✨

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

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‼️WARNING‼️This fic contains Smut- Creampie- Light Choking-

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Hey guys this is gonna be a super short oneshot of Husband!Leon fucking ur brains out early in the morning! I hope you like I woke it at 2 in the morning lol as usual with my oneshots! I thank all of you for the support! And please if you’d like so see anything in my writing style please don’t be shy and let me know!

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“Morning Gorgeous”

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Is what your husband would always tell you in the mornings, after years of being together he could never get tired of you, his words sounded so pleasant with his mouth practically pressed against your ear as his hands roamed over you, Desperately, But still softly. He would always wait for you to wake before he tugged your clothes off.

He had been all over you ever since he got home from his mission in Elbridge, And he had been more active then ever, He has so much more energy, Not just for his daily.. But for you. his beautiful wife he not dared to touch with his bare hands since the raccoon city virus spread to them.

But now, He was already rock hard, Just as you expected. bare hands gripping tenderly at your flesh to push you in just the right angle, You didn’t need his fingers, He had worked you loose enough for him the night before.

You were under him within a second, his hard chest pressing into your back, one bicep wrapped around your throat to keep you arched perfectly, cutting off your airflow at every flex. His other hand gripping the sheets by your head.

His thick cock slid in and out of your aching cunt in rapid thrusts, every surge forward almost felt like a punishment, but you loved it, You always loved it.

Soft gasps and mutters of his name struggled to leave your mouth, but what kept you grounded were his words.. always whispering to you, Making sure you understood.

“You always take it so good..”

“My wife..”

“I need you..”

“ngh.. you feel good..”

“Fucking love my wife..”

It made getting your insides scrambled worth it.. Just to hear him almost whimpering, Sounding so desperate for you, you two were such a perfect match.

His hips staggered, and your breath caught as his bicep squeezed your throat.. not even 20 minutes in and he was already losing himself.. with one final thrust he buried himself deep inside.

His arm around your throat pulled you until your nails dug into his muscle with a strangled moan of his name. And your back was arched so beautifully that his cum shot and flowed through your walls, painting the gummy interior until it pearled around your cunt where he was buried inside, until it ended up dripping, Falling down his balls, and onto the sheets you had just changed from last nights rendezvous.

He gave a few weak thrusts before his arm unhooked from your neck, falling down onto the sheets with ragged breaths.

“Hey, You still with me, Baby..?”

He dared to ask with a gentle palm on your cheek, as if he hadn’t just choked you out. But you just nodded, a small half smile pulling on your dazed features, lidded eyes meeting his, And he just gave you a nod.

“Good.. right where I need you.”

[grapev1ne]

Straight A’s

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This is a smut oneshot where your in college, your 27 and very much of age, Mostly cause I’m not really into making Leon seem like a pedophile and go for people like 19 or some shit💀 #LEON IS NOT A PEDO

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‼️WARNING! This fic contains - ORAL!MaleRecieving! Slight Praise! Pairing Student!reader X Professor!Leon‼️

MINORS DNI

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He knew it was wrong. You knew it was wrong. The kind of wrong that didn’t leave room for excuses. only consequences. He could lose everything he’d built. you could lose everything you hadn’t even had the chance to become. That should have been enough to stop it before it ever started.

But it wasn’t.

Because every time he asked you to stay after class, his voice carefully neutral, his eyes anything but, something electric coiled tight in his chest. And you felt it too, didn’t you? The shift in the room, subtle but unmistakable. Chairs scraping back as students packed up, a few lingering just long enough to glance over their shoulders, their expressions caught somewhere between curiosity and quiet speculation. They thought you were in trouble. Struggling, maybe. Falling behind.

The door would close with a soft click that sounded louder than it should, sealing the two of you into a silence that pressed in from all sides. Every second stretched. Every word felt heavier than it needed to be. He would try. at first.. to keep things normal. To talk about assignments, grades, anything that could justify why you were still there. But the air between you never quite cooperated. It hummed with something unspoken, something neither of you dared to name out loud.

He should have stopped it the moment he realized what was happening. Should have drawn a line so clear it couldn’t blur, no matter how long you looked at it. Because this, whatever this was.. had no future that didn’t end badly.

but he still found himself at his desk.

Every Tuesday and Friday.

Head thrown back and heavy breaths and groans leaving his open mouth, glasses slowly sinking down the bridge of his nose. One hand gripping the armrest of his chair, And the other tight in your silky locks, Barely having to guide you as your mouth greedily took in the girth of his cock. Your knees sore from the hardwood floors biting into them.

Your spare saliva bubbled up at the corners of your mouth, he was big, Everytime you took him into your mouth the back of your throat strained to accommodate him, one hand worked at what you couldn’t fit. The veins on his shaft pulsed, he was close, You had been working at him for what felt like nearly 20 minutes, Just to keep up those grades.

But it was never really about the grades.. was it.. you liked having his attention on you, The way he caressed your hair when you met the base of his dick, How he looked at you when you stared at him as you dragged your tongue back up to the tip. How he praised you.

“Hnngh.. you’re doing good, Baby. Almost there..”

He would say, fueling you to continue despite feeling sore and your knees weak, You both had your reasons for continuing this little arrangement. But for him, One of his favorite things was how you drank his cum like water.

His hand in your hair pushed you down as far as you could go without choking. The thick hot ropes spilled down your throat as his head fell back against his headrest.

“Huuh-fuck.. that’s it.”

His velvety voice felt like silk against your ears, after he was done, and he came down from his high he let you up, this was all the two of you were willing to go. He had thought of fucking you at his house many times. But he’d never act on it, And he told you it wasn’t a possibility because of your age, Even though you were in your late 20’s.

The both of you knew this is where your encounter came to an end.. and he could feel your disappointment, He just sighed, taking a second to push his glasses back up before leaning forward, Elbows resting against his knees as he took your face in his hands. The rough pad of his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Maybe next time.”

[grapev1ne]

Welcome back, this is part 2 of Beneath the drowning Veil!

If you would like to check out the first part click right here! But if this is your first time seeing this I HIGHLY recommend reading the first part before this one! THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE <33333

- Part one

DO NOT WORRY YOU MEET LEON IN THIS ONE

(No warnings)

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Your legs trembled beneath you, each step felt weighed down, The earth clung to you as though it meant to keep you, mud drying in uneven patches along your feet, streaking up your calves where thin lines of blood still traced their quiet descent. You could feel it tightening on your skin, cracking faintly with every movement.

Ahead, the gates loomed.

They were impossibly large.. far larger than anything you had ever seen outside of a screen. Towering slabs of dark iron and aged brick, etched with symbols you couldn’t understand, yet somehow felt were watching you too. They stood open, but not welcoming. More like a mouth.. waiting.

You hesitated only a moment before stepping through. Perhaps it was your desperation to be back in civilization, Inside, the world shifted.

Stone replaced dirt beneath your feet. uneven, foreign, cold. The air smelled different too, a blend of smoke and livestock, metal with something faintly sweet you couldn’t place. The walls of the city rose high on either side, proud and immovable, casting long shadows that swallowed you almost immediately.

And then came the people.

First, it was only a few glances. Passing looks. But they lingered too long. Faces turned. Conversations faltered mid-sentence. The weight of their attention pressed into your skin sharper than the cold or any branch.

You became aware.. painfully aware of yourself.

Of the fur cloak draped haphazardly around your shoulders, stiff with dried blood, Of how it barely covered you, slipping each time you moved, threatening to expose more than it concealed. Of how your hands kept darting to clutch it tighter, only to lose your grip again moments later.

You weren’t dressed. Not at all. And they noticed.

A woman standing beside a stall pulled her child closer, turning them away from you as though shielding them from something indecent. A pair of men paused mid-conversation, their expressions shifting from confusion to poorly concealed disgust. Others stared openly. some with pity, some with curiosity, and some with something colder.

You lowered your gaze, focusing on the ground as if it might swallow you whole, You tried to move like you belonged. You did not, And that was so painfully obvious.

The road stretched ahead, lined with merchants calling out their wares, though their voices wavered as you passed. Colorful fabrics hung from wooden frames, swaying gently in the breeze. Crates of fruits you didn’t recognize sat piled high, their scents rich and unfamiliar. Metal clinked somewhere nearby, rhythmic and deliberate, like a heartbeat you couldn’t sync with.

Everything was too much.

Too loud. Too vivid. Too real.

You stumbled.

Your foot caught on the uneven stone, and for a brief, mortifying moment, the cloak slipped further, nearly abandoning you entirely. You caught it just in time, clutching it desperately to your chest as a ripple of quiet murmurs followed.

Heat rushed to your face, though the air remained cold. You didn’t understand this place. Not the way people dressed, not the way they looked at you, not even how to walk without drawing attention. Just hours ago.. hours you had been somewhere else. Somewhere that made sense.

Now, even your own body felt misplaced.

You tried to move faster, weaving awkwardly between horse-drawn carriages and pedestrians who seemed to glide effortlessly around you. A horse snorted as you passed too close, and you flinched, nearly losing your balance again. Laughter.. quiet, but unmistakable brushed against your ears.

You weren’t meant to be here.

The thought settled heavily in your chest just as-

A hand landing on your shoulder. Firm. Grounding. Encased in cold metal. You froze.

“Excuse me, young lady… are you alright?”The voice was steady, measured, gentler than you expected. You turned slowly, your movements stiff, uncertain… and then you saw him.

Armor. Real armor. Not costume, not imitation, intricate plates layered over chainmail that caught the light with every slight movement. It covered him almost entirely, polished yet worn, as though it had seen more than its fair share of battle. A knight.

An actual knight.

For a moment, something inside you broke loose—not laughter, not anger, disbelief, shock at how this could have possibly happened. Your lips parted, a breath catching halfway between a sob and a sound that didn’t belong in your chest.

It only solidified that this was real..

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Your sobs came out uneven, shaking, fragile and then the rest followed. A quiet, helpless sound that trembled into something closer to a sob. You tried to swallow it down, tried to force it back into your chest where it belonged, but it only made your shoulders hitch, your grip on the blood-stiffened fur tightening as though it were the only thing keeping you from unraveling entirely.

The knight noticed. Of course he did. His hand withdrew from your shoulder almost immediately, not abruptly, but with a certain caution, as though he had touched something unpredictable. The subtle shift of metal followed, a faint scrape as his gauntleted hand lowered toward the hilt of his sword. ready.

You saw it. You understood it, even if you didn’t understand anything else. Fear. Not for you, but of you.

“Madam… please calm yourself.”

His voice was controlled, measured carefully, like one might speak to a frightened creature, or something worse.

You shook your head before you even realized you were doing it. Not in defiance, not in refusal… but because there was no other answer to give. How could you calm down when none of this made sense? When the ground beneath your feet, the air in your lungs, the very shape of the world had been ripped away and replaced with something cold and incomprehensible?

Just hours ago.. The thought collapsed in on itself. Useless. Your life had been difficult before. Messy, exhausting, unfair in ways that had once felt overwhelming.

But this? This was something else entirely.

“Madam,” he tried again, a touch firmer now, though not unkind. “You are unknown.”

Unknown.

The word settled heavily in your chest. “I’m going to have to bring you to council..” There was no accusation in it. only procedure. Duty.

His hand rose once more, slower this time, hovering uncertainly before coming to rest lightly against the middle of your back. Not forceful, not rough… but guiding. Leaving no room for refusal.

And what choice did you have? You nodded faintly, more a collapse of resistance than agreement and allowed yourself to be turned.

The city did not grow kinder as you walked.

If anything, the attention sharpened.

With the knight at your side, people no longer pretended not to stare. Their curiosity deepened, emboldened now by the presence of authority. Whispers followed in your wake, low and indistinct but constant enough to feel like they clung to your skin.

You became acutely aware of every inch of yourself. Of how the cloak slipped again as you took your first step, forcing you to fumble with it awkwardly, your fingers clumsy and slow. The fur scratched against your skin, stiff in some places, damp in others. You didn’t know where to hold it, how to wrap it, how to exist in it without feeling exposed.

Because you were exposed. Bare legs streaked with dirt and drying blood. Shoulders half-covered at best. Each movement threatened to reveal more, and you found yourself hunching instinctively, curling inward as though you could make yourself smaller… less visible.

It didn’t work.

You stumbled again, catching your foot against the uneven stone. A sharp intake of breath escaped you as you lurched forward, barely managing to keep your balance. The knight’s hand steadied you, firm this time but even that small contact seemed to draw more eyes.

Heat crept up your neck despite the chill in the air.

The streets widened as you moved deeper into the city. Market stalls gave way to larger buildings, stone structures with carved facades and tall windows that gleamed faintly in the light. Banners hung between them, their colors rich and deliberate, though their meanings were lost on you. The crowd shifted too, fewer merchants, more finely dressed individuals who watched you with quieter, colder interest.

You didn’t belong here. Not in the markets. Not on the roads. Not anywhere.

Your steps faltered as a carriage rolled past, its wheels loud against the stone. You flinched instinctively, shrinking closer to the knight without thinking. He noticed, but said nothing. only adjusted his pace slightly, slower now, as though accounting for your hesitation.

The silence between you stretched.

You wanted to ask questions. So many questions. Where you were. What this place was. Why this was happening.

But the words refused to form. Or perhaps you were afraid of the answers.

Ahead, the castle rose.

It dwarfed everything around it.. its walls impossibly high, its structure layered with towers and spires that seemed to pierce the sky itself. The gates stood open just as the city’s had, but these felt different. Final. Your steps slowed without your permission. This was real. Painfully, undeniably real. The knight’s hand pressed slightly more firmly against your back in cold warning.

Forward.

You swallowed, your fingers tightening once more around the fur cloak as it threatened to slip again. Clumsy, unfamiliar, exposed. you adjusted it poorly, unevenly, knowing it did little to preserve your dignity but trying anyway.

Because it was all you had.

And so, with uneven steps and a heart that refused to steady, you crossed the threshold beside him, into something you still could not understand, and could no longer escape.

The palace swallowed you whole.

What had seemed immense from the outside unfolded into something almost impossible within, ceilings that stretched higher than your eyes could comfortably follow, pillars carved with such precision they hardly looked like stone at all, and floors so polished they caught faint, wavering reflections of your every uncertain step.

Your bare feet hesitated against it. The surface was smooth, so unlike the uneven streets outside that you found yourself walking more carefully, each step tentative, as though you might slip and fall at any moment. The fur cloak shifted again with the movement, heavy and damp in places. You tried to gather it closer, but your hands felt clumsy, unsure of how to hold something that was never meant to be worn like this.

And still, you felt it.

Eyes.

Even here.

Servants moved quietly along the edges of the hall, their gazes lowered in practiced discipline… but not low enough to miss you entirely. You caught the flickers, brief, startled glances, quickly hidden. You could almost feel the questions forming in their minds, even if none dared to voice them.

A girl. barefoot, blood-stained, barely covered.

Escorted by a knight. You shrank inward again, shoulders curling, your grip tightening uselessly at the cloak that refused to grant you dignity. The walls were lined with portraits.

Painted, not photographed—but so detailed they felt almost alive. A family, repeated across the years in varying compositions. A man and woman seated in quiet authority, children arranged beside them. Their expressions were composed, almost serene… though something about their smiles felt distant. Polished. They were all fair-haired. All of them.

You stared a moment too long, your thoughts drifting—trying, perhaps, to anchor yourself in something familiar, even if it wasn’t. You barely noticed when the knight slowed. Only when he stopped entirely did you realize you had nearly walked into him.

You startled, stumbling back a half-step, the cloak slipping once more as you fumbled to catch it. Heat rushed through you again as you clutched it desperately, glancing around as though the walls themselves might be watching. “Steady,” he murmured, quieter now. You nodded quickly, unable to meet his gaze. Ahead, the throne room opened.

It was vast.

A wide expanse of polished stone stretched before you, leading to a raised platform framed by twin staircases that curved upward along either side, meeting a second level that overlooked the hall. And at its center—

The throne. It was not overly large, yet it commanded the space effortlessly. Dark wood, intricately carved with patterns you couldn’t begin to understand, each detail deliberate, almost mesmerizing. The cushion looked impossibly soft—plush in a way that felt entirely out of place in a world that had so far been nothing but harsh. You stared at it.

And then realized.

It was empty.

“His Majesty will take a moment,” the knight said, stepping slightly ahead of you now. His posture had returned—straight, composed, hands clasped behind his back. “He is in council.”

You opened your mouth to respond, though you weren’t entirely sure what you meant to say. Before any words could form, a door slammed somewhere beyond your sight, the sharp crack echoing through the vast chamber. You flinched, your head snapping toward the sound, your pulse quickening.

“I am told there is an outsider,” a voice rang out, low and cold, smooth.. carrying easily across the distance. “Tell me you found them. I have no need for spies from neighboring kingdoms.”

He emerged from above, descending the stairs with an ease that made the space seem to bend around him. His presence was immediate, commanding. Layers of dark, finely worked fabric formed his attire, armor woven seamlessly into cloth, a deep blue cape trailing behind him. Upon his head rested a crown set with stones so large and brilliant they seemed almost unreal. He approached the throne, his hand brushing its arm before he stopped.

His piercing gaze fell on you.

For a moment, there was only silence. You felt it like a weight, the intensity of his attention pressing into you, stripping away any illusion that you might go unnoticed. You straightened instinctively, though it only made you more aware of your state.

He did not ask your name.

“Why,” he said at last, his tone sharp with disbelief, “have you brought this woman to me naked.”

Heat rushed to your face, sudden and overwhelming. Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure whether to pull the fur tighter or to simply disappear altogether. The knight beside you faltered, his composure unraveling almost instantly.

“Your Majesty, I… I did not classify her as naked, because of the fur she wears.”

The king’s expression did not change. “If you have eyes, you would see that she’s obviously naked,” he replied coolly. “Go. Remove her from my sight. We will continue this when she has been properly attended to.”

He seated himself with effortless grace, as though the matter were already beneath his concern.

The knight exhaled quietly, tension slipping from him as he turned. Waiting for just a second. “This way, Madam,” he said, though his earlier confidence had diminished.

You followed, though not without one last glance over your shoulder. The king was still watching you. Not idly, not with passing curiosity, but with a focus that made your skin prickle. It was not until the doors closed behind you that the feeling eased.

The corridors beyond were no less grand, though quieter, more enclosed. You passed through stretches of polished stone and carved wood, through narrow hallways and open archways. Servants moved about their duties, each one pausing, if only for a fraction of a second, to look at you. You tried to keep your gaze lowered, but your unfamiliar footing betrayed you more than once. The floors here were smoother, almost too smooth, and you slipped slightly, catching yourself against the wall with an awkward motion that made your heart lurch.

Everything felt wrong. Too large, too clean, too ordered. Nothing like where you had come from. At last, the knight guided you into a chamber filled with baths carved from wood, each one brimming with steaming water. The air was thick with warmth, a gentle haze rising from the surface of the baths, carrying with it a faint, calming scent.

“Please, use one of these,” the knight said, his tone carefully neutral. “A maid will bring your clothing.”

He bowed slightly and departed, leaving you alone.

For a moment, you simply stood there, uncertain. Then, slowly, you reached up and pulled the fur from your shoulders. It resisted in places, sticking where blood had dried, and you had to tug harder than you wanted, wincing as it came free. You let it fall, trying not to think about it as you stepped into the water. The heat enveloped you instantly, sinking into your skin, loosening the tension you hadn’t realized you were holding. You exhaled, the sound soft, almost fragile. For the first time since you had arrived, something felt familiar, a bath.

The thought came suddenly, sharp and insistent. A bath had brought you here. That much you were sure of. The memory was hazy, but the sensation of water, of sinking beneath it, lingered.

Maybe it could take you back.

The idea took hold before you could question it. You slid deeper into the bath, until the water reached your shoulders, your chin. Then, with a quiet breath, you let yourself sink beneath the surface.

The world became muffled, distant. Light rippled above you, distorted and wavering. You kept your eyes open, staring upward, willing something to change, to shift, to pull you away from this place. Your lungs began to burn, the pressure building steadily, but you held on, stubborn and desperate. You squeezed your eyes shut, as though that might make the difference. It didn’t.

Hands seized your shoulders, dragging you upward with startling force. You broke the surface with a gasp, air rushing into your lungs as the world snapped back into clarity.

“Are you mad?” a voice demanded, sharp and alarmed. “You could have drowned. What were you thinking!?” You blinked, disoriented, water streaming down your face as you looked around. The same chamber. The same baths. And you almost scoffed. You said nothing.

There was silence between the two of you for a long moment, Before she let out a deep breath. “Do you not speak either..?” She asked, though her voice was much calmer her hands on your shoulders eased slightly. And she looked off the the side as you did not reply.

But the woman’s hands were already moving again, efficient and practiced as she reached for a sponge and worked a bar of soap against it until it frothed. “You are still filthy,” she remarked, not unkindly, though there was a firmness to her tone that allowed no argument. “Where have you come from that you do not even know how to wash yourself.”

The sponge met your back, and she began to scrub with steady, purposeful strokes. You flinched at first, your body still sensitive, but you did not protest. The warmth of the water and the rhythm of her movements dulled something inside you, leaving behind a quiet emptiness that settled deep in your chest. You were tired in a way that sleep would not fix. Tired of not understanding, tired of being here, tired of the dull ache of missing something you could not reach.

Homesick, though you were no longer sure where home even was.

She lifted your arm without warning, turning it slightly as she scrubbed along your skin with a kind of urgency that made it clear she had not forgotten what she had pulled you from moments ago. There was a careful watchfulness in her movements, as though she feared that if she slowed, if she gave you even a moment too long beneath the water, you might slip away again.

“Despite the blood and all this filth,” she continued, her voice softening just a fraction, “you are quite fair. It would be a waste for you to die this way.”

The words settled over you more heavily than the water itself. You stilled, caught off guard by their gentleness. It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to you like that, without impatience or irritation laced beneath their tone. A memory surfaced unbidden of your manager at the café, of sharp words and constant criticism, of standing small and silent while no one ever stepped in to soften the blow.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the response slipping out before you could stop it.

Her hands paused for the briefest moment, the scrubbing easing just slightly.

“What is your name?” she asked.

You gave it without much hesitation, the answer coming easily, almost instinctively. There was a strange pull in her presence, something that made you want to listen, to answer, to stay. For a fleeting moment, the question of how you got here pressed at the back of your mind, whether you should ask her, whether you should say it aloud, but the thought of how it would sound stopped you. You already felt unsteady enough in this place. You did not need to appear unwell.

“All right,” she said after a moment, setting the sponge aside. “That will do. You are clean now. Up you come.”

She helped you from the bath, her grip firm and steady as your feet met the wooden floor. The sudden exposure made your shoulders draw inward, your arms instinctively crossing over yourself, but before the discomfort could settle, a thick wool towel was wrapped securely around you.

“Dry yourself,” she instructed, already turning away. “The King is still waiting.”

The words sent a small jolt through you.

The King.

As she left the chamber, the quiet returned, though it no longer felt as heavy as before. You dried yourself slowly, your movements uncertain, still unused to everything around you. Even something as simple as this felt unfamiliar now, as though you had to relearn it in this strange, distant world.

The clothing left for you rested neatly nearby. You hesitated before reaching for it, your fingers brushing over the fabric. It was finer than anything you were used to, well made and carefully arranged. You dressed slowly, awkwardly at first, fumbling with the ties of the dark blue top before managing to secure them. The white underdress fell softly beneath it, and though the fit was close, it was not uncomfortable. The shoes, simple black with a strap across the top, felt strange compared to what you had worn before, but they held your feet securely.

You adjusted your hair as best you could, though you were certain it still looked uneven, and took a quiet breath before stepping out of the bathing chamber.

The difference was immediate.

Where before there had been glances that lingered too long, now there were only polite acknowledgments. Servants passed you with small nods, their attention no longer drawn to you in the same way. The relief was subtle but real, easing some of the tension you had carried since entering the palace.

The knight from earlier was waiting, and he fell into step beside you without a word. Together, you made your way back through the corridors, your steps still slightly uncertain against the smooth floors. You stumbled once, catching yourself quickly, your face warming despite yourself, but the knight pretended not to notice.

The grand doors opened once more, revealing the throne room. This time, the space felt different. Less overwhelming, perhaps, or perhaps you were simply more aware of yourself within it. The maids attending the room cast brief, approving glances your way before returning to their work, and you found yourself standing a little straighter because of it.

“Much better.”

His voice carried easily, drawing your attention at once.

The King remained seated upon the throne, one arm resting lightly against it, his posture composed but not rigid. There was something quieter in him now, less sharp than before, though no less commanding. The knight bowed deeply beside you, and you followed a second later, a little too slow, a little too unsure.

“How did you find her?” the King asked.

The knight straightened and began to speak, but his words blurred at the edges of your awareness. Your focus had already shifted, drawn entirely to the man before you. His gaze was on you again, steady and assessing, though not as cutting as it had been before. It lingered, taking in your appearance now that it was no longer obscured. When the knight finished, the king gave a small nod, as though confirming something to himself.

Then he addressed you.

“What is your name?”

The question was simple, but your throat tightened all the same. You managed to whisper it, the sound barely carrying across the space, A faint shift touched his expression, something almost like amusement, though softened by a weariness that sat just beneath the surface. He leaned forward slightly.

“You must speak louder,” he said, his tone firm, though not unkind. “I will not have you trembling through every sentence.”

Heat rose to your face again, and you swallowed, forcing yourself to try again. This time your voice was clearer, though still unsteady. He nodded once. “It is an unusual name,” he said. “But it suits you well enough.” There only observation in his tone. “How old are you?”

“35,” you answered, the words coming more easily now. That seemed to give him pause. Not long, only a brief flicker of surprise that passed quickly, replaced once more by that same measured composure. “Very well,” he said. “If you do not already know, I am King Leon Kennedy.“

He regarded you for a moment longer, as though weighing something unseen.

“You are in house Kennedy, You will remain here and tend to it.” he continued at last. “As a maid, the work should steady you, and it will give you purpose while we determine what is to be done with you.”

His tone was decisive, leaving little room for protest, yet there was something beneath it that tempered the command. Not quite kindness, but something close. The kind of patience that came from long experience, from having seen more than he chose to say. You stood there, caught between disbelief and relief, unsure which feeling was stronger. “I believe there is one room remaining,” he added, with a small motion of his hand. “See that she is settled.”

The knight bowed again and turned, and you followed after him, your steps quieter now, more measured. As you passed through the great doors once more, you could still feel the king’s gaze on you, steady and unyielding, lingering until the last possible moment. The knight let you through the winding halls, It was surprising how nobody got lost in this place..

He let you down a flight of stairs, And you were met with halls filled with doors, And the last door at the very end, he stopped. “These are your sleeping quarters. You start work tomorrow. Get some rest, There should be clothes for you in there already.”

the knight said before he turned and walked off, And you entered the room, It was surprisingly spacious.. the paintings on the wall told stories you couldn’t understand yet, You approached the closet that was nearby the bed, Swinging the doors open, The outfits inside were like your own.

And the maids outfit was folded neatly on a shelf, You could tell by the apron on top of it. And a silk nightgown.. you took your dress off and threw it on, taking your flats off and setting them inside the closet.

And finally you sat down on the bed, that was surprisingly plush.. And much more comfortable than the hard mattress you slept on back home.. You lie down, And after thinking for a moment. about how your life had took such a drastic change.. about how you’d have to learn how to live in a world like this.

Then you closed your eyes, unable to continue thinking, sleep came easy.

You start new work tomorrow.

Tomorrow had to be better.

[grapev1ne]

Hello everyone, I’m very excited to bring this fanfiction to you all! I’m probably planning on making it into a series, So PLEASE let me know if you’d like me to continue this or if it’s complete trash💀But yes it is going to be Leon Kennedy x Fem!reader, I really was cooking it up with this one I promise it’s good lol.

It’s a medieval type of romance story, Where Leon is a King. and it’s a SLOOOOOW burn if your into that!

‼️WARNING This fic contains- Gore- Slight attempts of suicide if you squint.‼️

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You hadn’t lived what anyone would call a good life. not by the standards that had been quietly, relentlessly set for you.

Your parents had always imagined something more dignified, more respectable. A doctor, perhaps. A lawyer, at the very least, something that could be spoken with pride in polite company. Instead, you found yourself in your late thirties, alone in a cramped apartment that always smelled faintly of burnt coffee, working for minimum wage at a small, forgettable place called Frahti’s Café.

It wasn’t where you were supposed to end up. You knew that. They knew that. And somehow, your manager seemed to know it too.

She had taken a particular dislike to you, though you could never quite determine why. There was no single incident to explain it, no defining mistake. Yet every small misstep, every minor inconvenience, became an opportunity for her to dissect you in public. If you were late, even by a minute, she made a performance of it. If you did something exactly as everyone else did, she would still find a way to point out how yours was wrong.

Today, of all days, had already begun badly enough.

A flat tire. Of course it had to be a flat tire. The nearest repair shop quoted a price so absurd it might as well have been a joke, so you had no choice but to leave the car behind and make your way on foot. The rain came down in steady sheets, soaking through your clothes despite the umbrella that twisted uselessly in the wind, as though it had chosen this particular morning to betray you.

By the time you reached the café, you were drenched, exhausted, and already bracing yourself. The bell above the glass door gave its usual hollow chime as you stepped inside, You didn’t even have a moment to collect yourself.

“Oh, look who finally decided to grace us with their presence.”

Her voice cut through the room, sharp and deliberate. Conversations faltered. You could feel it, the shift in attention, the quiet turning of heads. You opened your mouth, already forming an apology, but she wasn’t finished.

“Late again. I’m starting to think time moves differently for you. slower, perhaps? Like you’re wading through life instead of actually participating in it.” She gave a dry, humorless laugh. “And honestly, what is that? You look absolutely pathetic. Did you fall into a gutter on your way here?”

A few customers glanced down at their cups, pretending not to listen. Others didn’t bother pretending at all.

“If this is the level of effort you’re capable of,” she continued, her tone dripping with disdain, “you might want to consider not showing up at all. It would save the rest of us the inconvenience.”

Your face burned, heat rising beneath cold, rain-soaked skin. For a moment, something in you threatened to surface. anger, perhaps, or dignity..? but it faltered just as quickly as it came. You couldn’t afford it. Not here. Not with this job hanging by a thread.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, the words tasting hollower than you felt.

She scoffed, already turning away as though you no longer warranted her attention. You said nothing more. There was nothing left to say.

Instead, you moved quietly past the counter, past the watching eyes, and into the narrow hallway that led to the back. The bathroom door closed behind you with a soft click, sealing you in a space just large enough to breathe without being seen.

You stood there for a moment, staring at your reflection, damp, tired, older than you remembered feeling, and began to change into your uniform.

You tried, at first, to settle into the rhythm of the work—the familiar motions that usually required so little thought. Grinding beans, steaming milk, wiping counters already clean. There was comfort in repetition, or at least there had been once.

But today, there was no escaping her. Her words followed you like a shadow. inevitable, persistent, and always loud enough to be heard.

“You’re dragging again,” she called from behind the counter, not even bothering to lower her voice. “It’s a simple order, not a philosophical exercise. Or is thinking part of the problem?”

A man waiting for his drink shifted uncomfortably. You focused on the espresso machine, willing your hands to remain steady. “I’m going as fast as I can,” you said, careful, measured.

She scoffed. “That’s exactly what worries me.” The words landed with quiet precision. Not loud, not explosive, just sharp enough to cut.

You pressed your lips together and said nothing more.

Later, as you wiped down a table that had already been cleaned minutes ago, she appeared at your side again, arms crossed, eyes scanning for fault.

“You missed a spot,” she said.

You hadn’t.

Still, you went back over the surface, slower this time.

“It’s that lack of attention,” she continued, her tone almost conversational, as if she were offering helpful advice instead of dismantling you. “I don’t know how someone your age hasn’t learned basic thoroughness. It’s… concerning.”

Your grip tightened around the cloth. For a fleeting second, something rose in your chest. anger, sharp and unfamiliar. but it faded just as quickly, swallowed down out of habit.

“I’ll be more careful,” you replied.

“Try to be,” she said lightly, already turning away. “Though I won’t hold my breath.” The hours stretched on like that, small corrections that weren’t corrections, criticisms that had nothing to do with the work itself. Each one deliberate. Each one placed where it would be heard.

At one point, you handed a customer their drink with a polite smile, only for her voice to cut in immediately after.

“You might want to work on that,” she said.

You blinked. “Work on what?”

“That smile,” she replied, tilting her head as if studying something unpleasant. “It doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s off-putting.”

The customer hesitated, caught between politeness and discomfort, before offering a quick thank you and leaving. You stood there for a moment, heat rising behind your eyes, then turned back to the register as if nothing had happened.

There were many moments like that throughout the day, small, needless, relentless. And each time, you bit your tongue.

——————

By mid-afternoon, the weight of it all had settled somewhere deep in your chest. Usually, you could endure it. You had learned how to let her words pass through you, how to compartmentalize, how to survive the shift without letting it follow you home.

Today was different.

Today, everything seemed to press in at once, the rain, the exhaustion, the quiet disappointment that had long since taken root in your life. Her voice simply gave it shape.

By the time the clock edged toward closing, you felt hollowed out, as if there was nothing left for her to pick apart.

Still, she managed one last remark on your way out.

“Try to be on time tomorrow,” she said, not looking at you. “It would be a refreshing change.”

You almost laughed at that. Almost. Instead, you nodded, even though she wasn’t watching.

The shift ended with little ceremony.

You clocked out in silence, the soft click of the machine marking the end of another day you weren’t sure how you’d made it through. Outside, the rain had softened to a fine mist, quieter now, apologetic.

You stepped out into it, opening your umbrella. it held steady now, no longer fighting.

The walk home felt longer than usual, though you suspected it wasn’t. Your body ached with a dull, persistent fatigue, the kind that sleep rarely fixed.

All you wanted. truly wanted. was to lie down, close your eyes, and disappear into the quiet. To forget the café, her voice, the looks from strangers. To forget your existence too.

By the time you reached your apartment building, your legs felt heavier than they should have, each step up the narrow stairwell requiring more effort than the last. The carpet lining the stairs was as worn as ever. stained, matted, carrying the quiet history of everyone who had passed through before you. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was affordable, and affordability had long since taken precedence over comfort.

You fumbled briefly with your keys before letting yourself inside.

The door had barely clicked shut behind you before something in you gave way.

You didn’t bother with the lights. Didn’t bother with order or routine. Your shoes were kicked off somewhere behind you, landing unevenly against the wall. Your clothes followed in careless succession, peeled away more out of exhaustion than intention as you made your way toward the bathroom.

The mirror greeted you with a version of yourself you didn’t care to examine too closely.

Still, you looked.

Your reflection stared back, tired in a way that sleep never seemed to touch, your expression drawn, eyes dulled by something deeper than a long day. You let out a quiet scoff, the sound hollow in the small space, before turning the tap, water rushed into the tub, steady and unremarkable.

You sat on the edge of the toilet, elbows resting loosely on your knees, watching as the surface began to ripple and rise. The light above cast a soft glow across it, catching in the movement, turning something ordinary into something almost hypnotic. For a moment, you allowed yourself to simply exist there.. suspended between the day you’d endured and whatever came after.

The water climbed higher.

You didn’t rush when it was finally enough, you stood, removing the last remnants of the day from your skin before stepping in. The heat was immediate. nearly too much, sharp enough to sting. but you welcomed it. Let it consume you. Let it wash something away, even if you couldn’t name what.

You lowered yourself slowly, a quiet sigh escaping as the tension in your body began, at last, to loosen.

For a fleeting moment, there was peace.

You leaned your head back against the cool edge of the tub, eyes half-lidded, breath evening out as the world beyond the bathroom faded into something distant and unimportant.

Then, without quite deciding to, you let yourself slip lower..

The water closed over your shoulders… your throat… your chin.. and your lips.

Then your eyes.

Sound dulled. Light fractured.

You watched the ceiling through the shifting surface, its edges bending, softening. losing their certainty. The faint hum of the apartment, the distant noise of the city, all of it seemed to stretch thin, like something being pulled too far.

The water felt… deeper.

That was the first thing you noticed.

The warmth that had wrapped around you so completely began to ebb, not abruptly, but with a slow, creeping absence. The porcelain beneath you.. solid, familiar.. seemed less certain, as though it no longer held the same weight.

Your breath caught.

Something in your chest tightened, instinct rising before thought could catch up. You tried to push upward.

There was no tub floor to find.

The space around you opened- widened, impossibly vast. The dim, yellowed light of your bathroom fractured into wavering bands that stretched above you like a beacon of hope.

Your lungs burned.

Panic struck all at once, violent, disorienting.

You moved, no, thrashed, arms reaching, legs kicking against nothing you understood. The surface was there, you could see it, distant and shimmering, your own breath escaping you in a rush of silver bubbles that spiraled upward, as if urging you to follow.

You did.

You had to.

Your body surged forward, every movement desperate, uncoordinated, driven by the singular need to breathe. Your chest ached, vision narrowing as the distance seemed to stretch and collapse all at once.

And then-

Air.

You broke through the surface with a sharp, ragged gasp, dragging in breath that burned just as much as the lack of it had. Water clung to you, heavy and unfamiliar, as you struggled to stay upright, coughing, choking, your hands scrambling for something—anything—solid.

This wasn’t right.

This wasn’t-

You forced your eyes open.

And everything inside you seemed to drop out at once.

There was no bathroom..

No cracked tiles. No dim overhead light. No narrow walls closing in around you.

Instead… sky.

Open, endless sky, fractured only by the shifting canopy of trees that towered above you. Their branches stretched high, leaves whispering softly as they caught the light in a way that felt far too real, far too detailed to be anything but—

No.

No, that wasn’t possible.

Your breathing turned uneven again, sharp and quick, your pulse pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

You turned, wildly, disoriented. the water around you rippling outward as you moved. A lake. You were in a lake.. cold against your skin in a way the bath had never been.

You you swam desperately to the shore, stumbling forward, nearly losing your footing before managing to drag yourself toward the shore. Your hands met rough earth instead of tile, fingers digging into damp soil as you pulled yourself out, collapsing onto solid ground with all the grace of something that had no idea where it was. or how it had gotten there.

You coughed again, water spilling from your lungs as your body struggled to catch up with what had just happened.

Your mind lagged behind.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real.

Just moments ago, you had been in your apartment. your bathroom. your life.

You squeezed your eyes shut, as if that might undo it. As if you might open them again and find the familiar, suffocating normalcy waiting for you.

But the air still smelled of damp earth and something green.. alive in a way your apartment had never been. The ground beneath you remained uneven. And when you finally forced yourself to look again. The forest was still there.

So were you.. trapped.. though you could not yet bring yourself to fully accept the word, you lingered at the river’s edge, your body trembling with the aftermath of shock. The world pressed in on you from all sides, too vivid, too present. This was no dream. Dreams did not bite at your skin with cold air, did not carry the scent of damp earth and living green, did not echo with distant, unknowable sounds.

Slowly, shakily, you pushed yourself upright. Your limbs felt foreign, unreliable, like something newly given rather than long owned. Your legs quivered beneath you, threatening collapse with each uncertain shift of weight. Wet hair clung to your face and shoulders, a thin, useless veil that did little to preserve your dignity, though modesty felt like a fragile, almost absurd concern in the face of everything else.

You took a step. Then another. Each movement was cautious, tentative, like a fawn finding its footing for the first time. The forest loomed around you, dense and watchful. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping twig beneath your feet sent a sharp jolt of panic through your chest. You flinched at shadows, at wind, at the distant call of something unseen. Your breath came uneven, too quick, too shallow.

‘Where am I…?’

The question circled endlessly, unanswered and growing heavier with each passing moment.

You walked without direction, guided only by the desperate instinct to move, to find something.. anything that might resemble safety, or sense, or even familiarity. Time stretched strangely, bending beneath your fear, until at last the trees began to thin.

A clearing opened before you. And there.

Far in the distance, rising above the land as though it had been carved from the very bones of the earth itself.

A castle.

Not the broken remnants of one, nor some crumbling relic reclaimed by time, but something whole. Towering. Majestic in a way that felt almost unreal. Its spires pierced the sky, pale stone catching the light in a way that made it seem distant and untouchable, like something glimpsed in a painting or a dream.

Your breath caught.

Your knees nearly gave way beneath you.

It was too much. Too impossible. Too wrong.

“What the fuck…” you whispered, the words fragile and hollow as they left you.

You stared at it, unmoving, as if sheer will alone might unravel the illusion, might peel it away and reveal your bathroom behind it, your life waiting just out of sight.

It didn’t.

Instead..

The ground trembled.

At first, it was subtle. A faint disturbance beneath your feet, like distant thunder rolling beneath the earth itself. Then it grew. stronger, heavier. until it became impossible to ignore. Your head turned, slowly, dread already coiling tight in your chest.

And then you saw it.

A shape rose above the treeline behind you, massive, unnatural. Scales caught the light in dull, shifting hues. Wings. vast and terrible unfurled with a sound like tearing canvas, displacing the air with their sheer size. The creature reared back, its long neck arching, jaws parting.

And the roar that followed tore through the world.

It was force that rattled through your bones, stealing the borrowed breath from your lungs, freezing your blood in your veins.

Your body chose for you.

You ran.

Blind, frantic, driven by something far deeper than thought. The forest became a blur of green and shadow as you stumbled forward, branches clawing at your skin, roots threatening to drag you down. Behind you, the beast moved- no, pursued. each thunderous step shaking the ground, each beat of its wings stirring violent gusts of wind that seemed intent on throwing you back into its grasp.

Tears blurred your vision. Your lungs burned. A scream tore from your throat, raw, desperate, useless.

“Help! someone, please!”

But the forest did not answer.

Something else did.

From the right, the undergrowth exploded outward. A massive form burst into your path, forcing you to stumble back with a choked cry. It stood towering and broad, its body thick with muscle, covered in coarse, dark hair. Its head. horribly, impossibly.. was that of a bull, horns curved and deadly, nostrils flaring as it exhaled a hot, furious breath.

Your mind broke around the sight of it.

You were trapped.

Behind you, the winged nightmare descended, its shadow swallowing the light. Before you, the horned brute pawed at the ground, snorting, ready to charge.

There was nowhere to go.

Your legs gave out. You dropped to the ground, curling in on yourself, arms thrown over your head as if they could shield you from what was coming. Your body shook violently, breath breaking into panicked, uneven gasps as the world seemed to collapse inward.

And then heavy Impact.

A deafening crash shook the earth as the dragon struck, its claws tearing into the ground where the minotaur had stood. The beast bellowed in rage, before lunging forward, horns lowered.

They collided with a force that sent shockwaves through the clearing.

The minotaur drove its horns into the dragon’s side, not deep enough to kill, but enough to draw a guttural, furious roar. The dragon retaliated instantly, jaws snapping down, teeth like daggers scraping across thick muscle. Blood spilled. dark and heavy spattering the ground.

The air filled with sound. Roars, bellows, the sickening tear of flesh.

The minotaur struck again, swinging a massive arm, its strength immense as it hammered against the dragon’s neck. The impact staggered the beast for a brief moment—but only a moment. Its tail lashed out, catching the minotaur across the torso and sending it crashing through a cluster of trees with splintering force.

You lifted your head, just enough to see.

Just enough to wish you hadn’t.

The minotaur rose again, staggering but defiant, chest heaving, blood matting its fur. It charged, a final, desperate assault. its roar filled with something primal, something that almost resembled defiance against the inevitable.

The dragon met it head-on.

Claws sank deep this time. piercing, holding.

Its jaws followed.

There was a wet, horrific sound as they closed around the minotaur’s shoulder and neck, crushing, tearing. The creature’s roar broke into something strained, something fading. It struggled, thrashed. then weakened.

The dragon wrenched its head violently to the side. Bone gave way.

The body fell.

What followed was worse.

The dragon did not kill cleanly. It tore. Ripped. Fed. Flesh parted beneath its teeth, blood soaking into the earth, the clearing transformed into something unrecognizable.. something brutal and final.

You didn’t remember deciding to move. But somehow, you had. Slowly, carefully, you dragged yourself away, every motion deliberate, silent, as you slipped into the cover of a nearby bush. You pressed yourself low, trembling, barely daring to breathe as you watched through the leaves.

Time lost meaning again.

Eventually, the dragon stilled. It lifted its head, surveying its surroundings with cold, indifferent eyes. For one horrible moment, you were certain it would see you.. that it would know.

With a powerful beat of its wings, it rose, lifting into the sky and disappearing beyond the trees, leaving only devastation behind.

Silence returned. But it was not the same silence as before. It was heavier. Tainted. You stayed where you were for a long while, your breath slowly evening, your body still trembling with the remnants of terror. Only when you were certain.. certain it was gone.. did you dare to emerge.

The clearing was… ruined.

You approached the fallen minotaur hesitantly, each step weighed down by unease. Up close, it was worse. more real, more grotesque than anything your mind could have prepared you for. And yet… You couldn’t stay as you were.

Swallowing hard, forcing your shaking hands to move, you did what you had to. The fur came away unevenly, clumsy work born of desperation rather than skill, but it was enough. You wrapped it around yourself, the coarse material heavy against your skin, carrying with it the lingering warmth. and the unmistakable scent of the creature it had belonged to.

It was not comfortable.. But it was something. You turned then, your gaze lifting once more to the distant castle. It stood exactly as before. Untouched. Waiting.

Drawing a slow, unsteady breath, you began to head towards what you could only hope is civilization.

————————————————————————

Hello! If your reading this that means you finished it, Thank you! Let me know if you’d like me to continue this story! Cause I want to make it into a series but if it’s dogwater then I’ll focus on other things instead!

[grapev1ne]

Hello guys! Thank you so so so much for the love and support on my other Leon one shots, I appreciate it so much and I’ll be sure to write much more!

—

I thought of this at like- 3 am, I hope you guys like it, It is based off that scene where Leon was spitting up blood, (poor guy) and made a small oneshot of Vampire Leon and his sweet human wife who is so so kind to sate his needs.

Minors DNI-

‼️WARNING- This fic contains - Smut- Menstrual blood- Cunnilingus‼️

————————————————————————

Your husband had always been careful with you, Even now. especially now.. when the quiet truth of what he was lay between you like a secret, A vampire. Something no longer living, yet not gone. He had never told you how it happened, or why. Only that he needed you- small pieces of you.

you tried to convince him it didn’t hurt when he drank from your neck.. But the tears that bubbled in your eyes every time were not very convincing. so he had resorted to seeking other sources other humans were off the table, they were not as willing, and they certainly weren’t his darling wife.

Your pussy. To him, it felt like a cruel kind of providence, that your body, so warm and fleeting, offered itself to him in quiet, inevitable cycles. A gift that was surely meant for him?

The first time he suggested it, you refused immediately, your breath catching as revulsion curled through you. You tried to make him understand, voice unsteady, that it was something hidden, something unclean… not meant to be seen, let alone tasted. Surely, if he knew, he would turn away.

But he did not turn away.

Instead, he watched you with that patient, unyielding hunger, as though your fear deepened his fascination. With a softness that felt more dangerous than force, he dismissed your protests. It was only blood, he said, Yours.

And to something like him… how could it be anything but irresistible?

Now the two of you lay on your shared bed, your thighs thrown over his muscular shoulders, and his tongue buried deep inside your pussy, messily lapping up every drop of blood that oozed from your uterus, his nose bumped against your clit every now and then, Sending stuttering shocks through your body. Tongue curling and pressing, Any way to urge the blood to seep faster.

You thought he would find this gross the first time you hesitantly allowed it, though he was drinking it up as if it were the most delicious wine he had ever tasted. Your thighs tried to close, Clenching around his skull, his hands curled around them both and pried them back open. He would not be kept from his meal.

The sounds you made were unguarded, unpolished, almost urging him to continue, with the sounds your throat made, Desperate and breathy, Your head lulled back as his nose ground against your sensitive bud, One hand gripping the sheets and the other tangled in his messy hair, tugging softly.

He hummed, against your folds, Sending light vibrations through your aching sex, your lower back arching off the bed stars blurred your vision, your climax washed over you like waves, you had long forgotten how many.. they shook your being, moans clawing out of your throat, He didn’t sway, Nor did he pull away, he was like an iron statue, drinking greedily.

“L-Leon please.. We have been at this for almost an hour, give me a break!” You nearly begged, turning to look down at the monster between your legs that didn’t seem to understand what the word ‘break’ meant. He had no intentions of easing up.. but seeing your eyes, seeing how they were glossy and pleading from nearly and hour of overstimulation made him pull back, he would not want to ruin this sacred time he had with you, His tongue was the last to leave you, leaving a thin trail of saliva and blood connecting his mouth to your cunt before it broke.

He sat upright, Looking up at your ceiling for just a moment, As if praying before looking down at you, perhaps he himself was also catching his breath, He had been on this earth for decades.. but maybe his thousands of years were slowly catching up to him. His face was a mess.. Blood dripped from his open mouth, breaths came out slow, bloody fangs glinting in the dim lights, Then a hand reached up and lazily wiped it away, tried to* it only smeared, staining the side of his hand. He looked at you, like you are the center of his world.. The burning core that kept him warm.

“You have an hour, Sweetheart..” he said, his hands reaching up to cup your face, His thumb caressing your cheek. Almost too tender for someone who just worked you over on his tongue like no tomorrow. “But be quick.”

“Because I’m still hungry.”

———

[grapev1ne]

—

Just a quick fic, Being requested by one of my supporters on TikTok. It’s basically just how I think Leon would have met his wife. I hope you enjoy, I’m not really good at action scenes so I hope I did okay, Enjoy!

‼️WARNING! This one shot contains- Gore! And more Gore and light fluff at the end‼️

Pairing- Rookie Leon x FemReader!

————————————————————————-

Flashback to when he was 21, and you were 19, living in the heart of Raccoon City. He was only two years older than you, but in moments like these, he felt far younger—like a kid wearing a uniform that suddenly weighed too much. He had just started his job as a police officer, fresh-faced, hopeful in a quiet, almost naïve way. He had wanted to help people. That was it. That had always been it.

Except that was when the whole city decided to erupt.

It hadn’t unfolded slowly. Not in any way that made sense. One moment there were whispers—reports of strange attacks, people getting sick, something spreading.. The undead didn’t just rise—they tore their way back into the world. Flesh split open, jaws snapped, bodies dragged themselves across blood-slick pavement. Screams echoed through the streets until they became background noise, until silence felt more unnatural than chaos. Humanity wasn’t just under attack it was being eaten alive.

And he had been there, inside the police station when it all went to hell.

He had to claw his way out. The station, once a place that stood for order, was reduced to a slaughterhouse. Blood smeared across walls, handprints dragged down corridors, officers he had spoken to just hours before now reduced to broken bodies or worse—moving, twitching, reaching. One of them had grabbed his ankle on the way out, fingers slick and cold, skin splitting where bone pushed through. He had screamed—actually screamed—and kicked until something in the arm snapped with a wet crack. He hadn’t looked back after that.

The smell followed him. Rot and copper and something sweet that made his stomach churn every time he inhaled too deeply. He couldn’t have been more devastated. He was supposed to be a cop. That’s all he wanted. And now the city he wanted to protect was collapsing into something unrecognizable, something feral. His entire life was going down the drain and he couldn’t do anything about it except watch. except survive, except try not to die like everyone else.

By the time he stopped running he was in front of a mall, his legs ached and his throat burned from breathing too hard, too fast. The automatic doors had long since lost power, leaving him to squeeze through a half-open gap, metal groaning loudly enough that he froze for a full five seconds afterward, heart hammering, waiting for something to come running.

Nothing did.

That didn’t make it better.

His footsteps echoed through the empty halls as he moved deeper inside, flashlight trembling slightly in his grip despite how tightly he held it. The beam cut across abandoned storefronts—mannequins frozen mid-display, their blank faces eerily human in the dark. One of them had been knocked over, its plastic head cracked open, hollow eyes staring up at nothing. For a split second, he thought it moved.

He nearly shot it.

It was completely abandoned.

Or was it?

The silence felt wrong. Too thick. Like the kind that comes after something terrible, when even the air hasn’t caught up yet. His ears strained for anything—a shuffle, a groan, the wet drag of something moving across tile. He kept expecting something to lunge from behind a counter, from inside a store, from the darkness just beyond his light.

Nothing.

But that didn’t mean safe.

As he rounded a corner, his focus split for just a second—just enough.

The impact came out of nowhere.

A sharp, metallic crack slammed into his jaw, snapping his head to the side with enough force to make his vision blur white. Pain exploded across his face, hot and immediate, his teeth clacking together as his body stumbled sideways. He hit the wall hard, shoulder scraping against something rough, a startled noise tearing from his throat before he could stop it.

“Fuck— What the fuck— Hands up!”

The words came out louder than intended, cracking embarrassingly in the middle. Words edged with raw panic as he raised his pistol, hands shaking just enough to betray him. His heart pounded so violently it felt like it might burst out of his chest, his breath coming fast and shallow as adrenaline surged through him.

And then—

He saw you.

Not lunging. Not snarling. Not broken or bleeding or wrong.

Just.. staring, just.. Human.

Wide, terrified eyes locked onto his, your chest rising and falling just as fast as his. The metal pole you’d swung hung loosely in your grip for half a second before clattering to the floor, the sound echoing far too loudly in the hollow space.

You hadn’t meant to hit him like that.

You hadn’t meant to hit anyone.

But in a place like this, hesitation got people killed. You had learned that quickly—too quickly. The first time you hesitated, someone else had paid for it, and the memory of it still clung to you, sticky and red and impossible to forget. So when he appeared out of nowhere, a figure stepping out of darkness, you reacted. You swung with everything you had.

And now he was pointing a gun at you.

“you’re a police officer..?”

Your voice shook despite your attempt to steady it, your hands lifting quickly in surrender as you gestured weakly toward his uniform. Up close, he didn’t look like what you expected. Not hardened. Not fearless.

He looked scared too.

“Yeah— Wh—What the hell are you doing in here?”

His words stumbled over themselves slightly, breath uneven as he tried to regain control, tried to sound like someone who knew what they were doing. His eyes flicked over you quickly, searching—checking for bites, blood, anything that would turn you from a person into a threat. There was nothing obvious. Just fear. Just exhaustion.

And relief—small, fragile—settled somewhere in his chest.

“It’s quiet in here… There aren’t any zombies in here. That I know of.. I-I’m ——.”

You spoke more softly now, like raising your voice might shatter whatever stillness had settled over the place. Your hands lowered slowly as he lowered his gun, though the flashlight remained fixed on you, bright and exposing.

“Leon..” he paused, Listening to the air between you for just a second. “You can’t stay here. C-Come with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

The promise felt too big the moment it left his mouth. Safe. He wasn’t even sure if he could even keep himself safe. But leaving you here felt worse than the fear twisting in his gut. He made a small, awkward gesture for you to follow, and you did—because he had a gun, because he was something familiar in a world that had stopped making sense.

Together now, you moved through the mall, the silence now heavier with two sets of footsteps echoing off the walls. Every sound seemed amplified—the soft scuff of shoes, the faint rattle of something shifting in the distance. Somewhere far off, there was a wet, dragging noise, followed by a dull thud.

Both of you froze.

It came again. Closer this time.

“W-where are we gonna go? The whole city is fucked..”

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you stepped closer to him without meaning to, your grip tightening around nothing now that the pole was gone.

“I don’t know. We’re going to try and meet up with my friend at some gas station around here, She has a way out of the city.”

He kept his voice low, controlled, though his eyes flicked toward the sound, tension coiling in his shoulders. A way out. The words felt distant, almost unreal, but they were something to hold onto.

A sudden crash shattered the quiet.

Glass exploded from a storefront to your right, shards scattering across the tile as something threw itself against the display from the inside. A body slammed through what remained, tumbling onto the floor in a mess of limbs and torn flesh. Its face was barely recognizable—skin hanging loose, jaw twisted unnaturally to one side, something dark and wet spilling from its mouth as it let out a broken, guttural sound.

It moved.

Too fast.

“Shit—!”

He raised his gun, hands shaking as he fired. The shot rang out deafeningly loud in the enclosed space, the recoil jolting up his arms. The first bullet hit its shoulder, tearing through rotten flesh without stopping it. It lunged anyway, fingers clawing against the floor as it dragged itself forward.

He fired again.

This time, the head snapped back, a spray of dark, thick blood splattering across the tiles behind it. The body collapsed, twitching violently before going still.

The sound echoed.

Then—

More movement.

A low chorus of groans began to rise from deeper within the mall.

“Move— we need to move, now—”

His voice cracked as he grabbed your wrist without thinking, pulling you along as more shapes began to stir in the darkness, silhouettes shifting behind glass, hands slamming against doors, bodies dragging themselves toward the noise.

You ran.

The exit door came into view, and he shoved it open, the hinges screaming in protest as both of you stumbled out into the alley beyond.

“Ladies first.”

The words came out breathless, almost absurd given the situation, but automatic all the same. You shot him a look as you went through.

The alley was narrow, choked with debris and shadow. The air hit colder out here, carrying the distant sounds of chaos—sirens, screams, something collapsing somewhere far off. A body lay crumpled near a dumpster, unmoving except for the slow drip of blood pooling beneath it. And dripping from a bullet wound in its skull.

Your thoughts paused as you turned, Seeing Leon closing the door and barricading it the best he could to provide you two safety “Looks clear.” He muttered to himself, While turning and walking down the alley, You were automatically staying close behind him.

The body against the dumpster seemed worse the closer you got. The man’s leg was twisted outward, his shorts darkened where blood had soaked through. A bite mark was carved deep into the flesh of his calf, jagged and violent, as if something had torn into him without hesitation. The skin around it was already discolored, bruised in sickly shades that didn’t look right. It was still bleeding, though slower now, thickened and sticky—but it didn’t matter. Whatever had done it had already won.

He ended it himself.

The realization settled heavily as your gaze drifted to his hand. The small pistol was still clutched there, fingers stiffening around the grip. There was a smear of blood along the barrel, a final, desperate decision made in the span of a second. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

‘Useful’ Leon thought to himself.

You could almost see the thought pass through him—the hesitation, the guilt, the necessity of it all. He crouched down anyway, jaw tightening as he reached for the weapon. His fingers brushed against the man’s cold skin for just a second too long before he forced himself to take it, pulling it free with a quiet, uncomfortable shift. The hand didn’t resist. It just fell limp against the pavement with a dull, hollow sound.

Leon checked the chamber, movements mechanical, like something he’d practiced but never expected to need like this. Only one bullet was missing. The implication hung there, unspoken. They could find more ammo on the way there. If there was a way there at all.

He stood and turned, holding the pistol out toward you. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—just for a second—before he forced it down. “Here, Since you don’t have anything to keep yourself safe.” He said.

You took it without much hesitation, though your hands didn’t feel entirely your own as they closed around the grip. It was heavier than you expected. Warmer, too, from his touch—or maybe that was your imagination trying to soften what it really was. Your fingers tightened slightly, then loosened, like you weren’t sure how hard you were supposed to hold something like this.

The thought of firing it sickened you more than what you could potentially be firing it at.. It made your stomach churn..

“Hey.” Leon’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, jolting you back to reality with a hand on your shoulder. “We’re gonna be okay, Okay?” He said, Trying to be reassuring, but it was obvious he didn’t even believe his own words.

“We’re gonna get out of here. I promise…”

He said it quietly, but with enough conviction to cut through the ringing in your ears. The chaos behind you still echoed—distant screams, something collapsing, something burning. His voice grounded you, steadied the trembling in your hands. He didn’t wait for a response. He just started moving. You followed.

The alley stretched longer than you remembered, like it had twisted itself into something unfamiliar. Trash bins were overturned, their contents smeared across the pavement—rotting food, broken glass, something darker that clung to the ground in thick, sticky patches. Your shoes made a wet sound with every step, and you tried not to think about what you were walking through.

He kept looking back at you. Not just casually—quick, sharp glances over his shoulder, like he expected you to vanish if he didn’t check. Or worse… that something else might be right behind you. “Stay close,” he muttered.

A flicker of orange light danced across the walls ahead.

Fire.

When you turned the corner, the heat hit you first—a suffocating wave that made it hard to breathe. A car had been flipped onto its side, flames crawling up from its undercarriage, licking at the shattered windows. The street beyond was barely visible through the smoke, thick and black, swirling like it was alive. And there were bodies. You froze.

Some lay still. Others… didn’t. An undead man dragged himself across the asphalt, leaving a long, dark trail behind him. His fingers clawed uselessly at the ground, nails torn and bloody. When he lifted his head, his eyes were wrong—glassy, unfocused, but locked onto you. They were hungry.

You stumbled back., but before you could get very far Leon turned “Don’t look at them,” he said, softly grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward. “Just keep moving.”

But it was impossible not to look. A woman slumped against a wall, her arm bent at an unnatural angle, skin blackened where the fire had reached her. Something had torn into her side—deep, ragged—and the blood had soaked into her clothes, dripping steadily onto the pavement. The smell hit you next.

Burning metal. Smoke. And something sickeningly sweet beneath it all. You gagged. “Focus,” he urged, his voice almost pleading his grip tightening. “We’re almost there.”

Almost there.

The words felt distant, unreal. A loud crack split the air behind you, and both of you flinched. Part of a building gave way, sending sparks and debris raining down into the street. The fire surged higher, embers drifting like glowing snow. For a moment, you thought you saw movement in the smoke.

Big..

He saw it too. “Keep going,” he said, urgency snapping into his voice. You didn’t argue. The two of you ran. Your lungs burned with every breath, your legs screaming as you pushed forward. The street seemed endless, every step heavier than the last. The sounds behind you—scraping, something dragging, something following—grew louder.

Then—

Light. Bright, steady, untouched by the chaos. The gas station. It stood like a fragile sanctuary at the edge of destruction. The flickering sign buzzed overhead, casting a pale glow across the lot. The doors were still intact. The windows, miraculously unbroken.

He didn’t slow down until you were both inside. The moment the door slammed shut behind you, the world outside felt… distant. Muted. You bent over, gasping for air, your whole body shaking. The inside of the station was a mess—shelves knocked over, supplies scattered—but it was safe. And you weren’t alone.

The woman he mentioned.. Claire stood near the counter, a gun gripped tightly in her hands. Her eyes widened when she saw Leon, And you, relief flooding her expression. Beside her, a young girl clung to her side, peeking out cautiously. For the first time since seemingly forever you felt hope that you would be okay. And it was all thanks to this sweet rookie.

———

That was almost 25 years ago. you sit with your now husband looking through pictures taken from the past with your 3 children on each side of you. His arm was wrapped around your waist

Keeping you snug against his side, if he had any more of an itchy trigger finger that day he possibly couldn’t be living the life he was now.

He was grateful for everything you had given him, A future. 3 beautiful children, 2 daughters and one son. Nowadays the only time when he was unhappy was when he was sent away on another government job. And he had to leave you alone to worry your mind off about him.

But at least you were here. Save and sound where he didn’t have to worry about you.

[grapev1ne]

——

This is a steamy one shot I made at the dead of night, It’s not that good lol but it’s my first time writing and I was proud enough to post it! Let me know if you like it! Let me know if I should post more, Any ideas you’d like to see in my writing style! Enjoy please!

‼️!warning! This contains Smut, Minors DNI!‼️

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On this night, It was late, And you were getting yourself ready for bed, Taking your time in the bathroom shower connected to your shared bedroom. Washing the suds from your shampoo out of your hair when you heard it, the front door swinging open and shutting heavily.

You always kept every door locked, So who came in could only be your spouse, You waited as you listened to those footsteps climbing up the stairs, Heading right to your bedroom, Before you knew it the bathroom door swung open, and closed behind him, you grabbed the shower curtain and pulled back just enough to expose your face.

“Hi honey, Welcome home.”

You looked at him, Noticing how much.. Healthier he looked. Which was odd cause everytime he came home after missions like this he looked like he was about to pass away, Something was different. Good different.

“Hey, You..” his rough voice cut through your thoughts, His piercing blue eyes staring right back at you, And your eyes dropped to his neck, There was no sight of the virus that had been plaguing your husband for the past two weeks.

“Hey… Your okay?” You asked, Making a gesture to the side of your neck, his eyes trailed your hands before catching on. “Yeah..” a small nod while looking at his hands, taking off his glove. “we found a cure.”

He finished, Almost too dryly, You raised an eyebrow at his vague reply, But didn’t pry, instead you let the curtain fall back to its place and slowly resuming your shower, grabbing your loofa and soaping it up, Starting to scrub the days sweat away.

Until you heard his heavy belt hit the floor and the shower curtain suddenly pulling back, making you jolt at the sudden noise. The cool air assaulted your wet skin and you felt goosebumps ride up along your back. He had stood there for a second before stepping in, taking you in the way someone does when they’ve missed something so badly it almost hurts to look at again.

“You’ve got room for one more in here right?” His voice came out almost too quiet.. Smooth as he stepped behind you, Letting the curtain close, you faced forward, trying to finish scrubbing your skin before you felt two rough hands snaking over your hips one resting just under your belly button, And the other climbing up towards your breasts, sitting just under the soft mounds of flesh. Then pulling you back until you hit his chest.

His warmth was immediate, solid and familiar, the kind of closeness that made the long days apart suddenly feel heavier. He had barely touched you since that virus made itself known.. holding back his love, Out of fear he would infect you, he had even stopped wearing his ring, not wanting the pure metal to be corrupted, But now, Feeling the cold ring against your flesh, you knew he would give it all back

The water gently rained over your bodies, The steam making his actions that much hotter.

For him it was the smallest thing, that ring brushing your skin again, but it felt like the end of something held back for too long “That’s better.” You said, Earning a small chuckle from him as he took the loofa from your hand and softly scrubbed you clean as he started peppering kisses to the bridge of your shoulder. “I missed my wife.” Was all he said, he shifted, Allowing you to lean your head back against his shoulder, Exposing the flesh of your neck, To which he placed more light kisses to the area.

“I missed you too.” You said, Reveling in the feeling of finally being back in your husbands arms, Touching you again like nothing had changed.

-

His hand on your stomach slid down, dipped past your mons and to the sensitive area between your legs. Making you shiver, your cheeks flushed and you tilted your head forward to look at his hands that shamelessly touched you.

“I missed her too.”

He said as two fingers slid between your lips before pushing them into your hole without much warning, you let out a quiet sigh your hand gripped his forearm tight. His body like a strong wall, Keeping you up and steady.

“Leon- Fuck..” Your words came breathy and quiet, They slid in and out of your aching cunt with almost practiced ease, his thumb finding your clit and pressing, Forcing a sharp gasp from your mouth, your walls clenched onto his fingers as his thumb slowly rowed over your sensitive bud. His hand under your breast opened, Taking one of them into his hands.

“You’ve gotten tight.. I’ve gotta fix that now don’t I..?”

He said as his thick digits started to scissor, prying your tight walls open before continuing their thrusting motion, it was almost muscle memory for him at this point.. you could feel your climax building up, It was coming almost too quickly, Just as you were about to cum his hand pulled away, Leaving you clenching around nothing, You turned your head to look up at him with wide betrayed eyes. “What the fuck-“

You didn’t get many words out as he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, effectively shutting you up, his tongue made quick work of tangling with yours, as his hands dipped to grab under your thighs, Lifting you up and pressing you against the shower wall, your ankles locking around his hips. And arms wrapping around his neck.

He broke the kiss off, looking at you with those soft mischievous eyes. “I’ve been thinking about you the entire way home.. if you’re gonna cum it’s gonna be on my dick.” To which you just huffed almost tempted to slap him for prolonging your climax, But shivered as you felt his bulbous tip pressed against your cunt. “You’re so eager today.” You said, And he wasn’t paying attention to your words, Just watching his tip card through your lips before he pushed himself inside, The stretch made you stutter, An almost pained moan leaving your mouth, But he continued to push himself inside until he was barely halfway.

“You always take it so good..” he spoke against your neck while mouthing at the skin. Drawing quiet gasps from you while slowly rocking his hips, Trying to calm the ache of not having sex in a while. “Leon.. fuck, Just- Just faster please.” You managed to breathe out

He paused his kisses on your neck, placing one more on your throat. “Now who’s eager.” You were going to make some remark before he suddenly pulled out all the way and thrust inside until he was buried to the hilt. A sharp cry like moan came out before you could stop it, and he continued, his thrusts were slow, But demanding, Brutal strokes that pressed against that sweet sensitive bundle of nerves deep inside you.

His hand slid down, The rough pads of his fingers pressing against your clit, your lips parted, but your noises were stopped suddenly as his mouth met yours again in a heated kiss, your hand tangled in his hair, gripping as you felt your climax finally tear through you, It was almost unexpected, There was so much to focus on your mind could barely focus at all.

“Think you could give me another..?” He asked as he continued to thrust into you slowly, building up a ring of white cream on the base of his cock, Giving you time to breathe.. You nodded at his question your head lulling back against the shower wall.“I missed you.. I missed this.” He said as his thrusts picked up again, You nodded again in reply.*

“I missed you too.. so much..” You muttered, and he bit at the flesh of your shoulder, It made you jump, The unexpected feeling of his canines biting into your skin. “I love you.. My Wife..” he practically growled against your skin, saying your marital status as if to confirm with himself that you were His wife. that you chose to stay. To stay with him. He was close, You could feel it in the twitches from his shaft.

“I love you too, honey..”

*You breathed out, He pulled back. just enough to rest his forehead against yours before he pulled out all the way, for just a second, Before thrusting all the way in, his hands gripped your hips, pulling you down harshly. You felt hot thick ropes of his cum flooding your cunt, painting your walls. Cum belonging to him, and yours dripping down his shaft and onto the bathtub floor.

You breathed heavily, turning your head away, Trying to catch your breath, His forehead pressed against your neck. Your walls fluttered around his cock. And you sighed. “You’re gonna get me pregnant, baby..”

“Baby..?” He asked, pulling back to look at you with that same stupid smile that made you fall so deeply in love with him. “You want to have another baby with me?” To which you just rolled your eyes, He chuckled at your reaction.

You had already given him 3 kids.

You’ll see how you feel about it in the morning.