Content: smut, p in v, fingering, squirting, alcohol consumption, hookup culture lol
Masterlist❤︎
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There is nothing better than being fucked completely senseless.
Arguably the best remedy for a chronically overactive mind.
After five straight days of managing passive-aggressive emails and smiling through situations that tested the absolute limits of human sanity, you decided the only cure for this impending mental breakdown was a stiff drink and zero inhibitions on this lovely weekend.
Two shots of whatever was closest, and the company of a man who looked just as desperately in need of a distraction as you, if not more so.
Beautiful was what you initially pegged him as, eyes sweeping along the striking lines of an exhausted face and the stubborn swoop of hair spilling carelessly over his brow. Then you decided he was just prematurely aged. The silver threads catching at his temples and the aggressive shadow of a stubble made him look worn down by a decade of exceptionally bad sleep and even worse stress.
He looked like a man who could fuck good. Looked like he approached sex the exact same way he approached the rest of his miserable life, with unrelenting stamina and a terrifyingly methodical focus designed to dismantle whatever stood before him.
He also looked like an easy target, staring into the amber depths of his glass with a level of sad depression that practically radiated off his shoulders. All it took was you stepping directly into his line of sight, ordering another shot with a dramatic sigh, and offering him a painfully cynical comment about the state of the world (while deliberately showing off your cleavage).
The guarded set of his jaw twitched into the faintest ghost of a smirk.
You offered your name, he offered his (Leon—was it short for Leonard? Leonel?), and he leaned in when you laughed at his terrible attempt at a joke. A genuine chortled laugh because you hadn't expected a dad joke from a man who looked as brooding as he did.
You licked your lips, he followed your tongue.
Hook, line, sinker.
Which explains how you now find yourself trapped in a mating press on a mattress that probably costs more per night than your rent. A dingy, cheap motel would have been your practical choice, but you had noted the expensive gleam of the watch on his wrist within five minutes of sitting next to him. Freaking Hamilton that looked distinctly like a limited edition, judging by the brushed steel and intricate dial.
Frankly, you shouldn't be surprised he carried that much net worth. He’s handsome, weathered beautifully into his age (Late forties? Early fifties?), and clearly paid an exorbitant amount of money to survive whatever horrors are actively ruining his mental health.
What does surprise you is how you’ve underestimated the scope of his physical abilities.
Over the past blurry hour, this complete stranger has effortlessly folded you into positions that defy your understanding of your own flexibility. Knees pressed so securely beside your own ears you start to believe the fee you pay for your weekly reformer pilates class might be a scam.
Apparently what you needed to achieve this level of advanced mobility was the unrelenting dead weight of a very, very capable man. So fucking capable that you’ve genuinely lost count of how many times he’s wrung you out on these expensive sheets.
Four orgasms? Maybe five? Whatever the number is, another one is dangerously crawling up the base of your spine.
Your sanity might be beyond saving at this point. You’re sweating profusely, and the backs of your thighs are screaming in dull protest from being pinned back for god knows how long. Leon pulls out and snaps his hips again with a jarring impact that seems to grow more ruthlessly aggressive with every single grind.
He does it again and again and again until you’re basically screaming from the unavoidable crash of yet another orgasm, toes curling frantically in the suspended air while your nails bite into the heavy muscle of his arms.
This man is something else, obviously nothing akin to the standard parade of disappointing men who talked big but possessed absolutely zero game. They were a flimsy attempt to scratch the very surface of your boredom. Leon, by comparison, is clawing straight down to the bone.
There’s a slowness in his thrusts now, and you blink to find an actual smile breaking through the sweat and exhaustion on his face. The warm puff of a chuckle against your cheek tells you he isn't simply amused. He’s actually entertained.
You huff, making a valiant but entirely useless attempt to mock him, "Stop laughing."
The sweat beading along his heavy brow does absolutely nothing to detract from how devastatingly smug he looks right now. “You’re shaking so much. It’s cute.”
So much for playing the femme fatale act at the bar. He swipes a thumb across your blotchy cheek, courtesy of his rough afternoon shadow.
“You okay?”
You sigh out a harsh breath, blowing a damp strand of hair out of your eyes. “Have you," you manage to wheeze, "even cum yet?”
He shakes his head, blue eyes glinting with unapologetic amusement.
"Are you ever going to?"
His low laughter rumbles warmly in your ears. “Why, you want me to stop already?" he presses a kiss against your jaw. "Thought you were having a good time."
“I’m having a great time.”
“Then what’s with the rush?”
“Maybe we should take a break,” you whine, gasping sharply when the weight of his pelvis rocks aggressively against your lower belly. “I-I need to pee.”
He seems unfazed. Moves like you didn't utter a word to begin with. Instead, what he does is press you even further into the mattress. “Is that right?”
“Fuck—Leon—” You arch your back as he maliciously tilts his hips. “You’re not helping.”
“I actually am,” he argues.
“What—”
“Let's test a theory," he drawls, hot breath ghosting over your pulse. "Do you really think you just need to pee, or are you about to squirt?”
You go completely still for a moment. Considering your track record of thoroughly uninspired hookups and non-lasting relationships, there is absolutely no palpable evidence to suggest you are capable of doing what he’s asking.
“I’m pretty sure I need to pee,” you reason quietly. “I’m not a squirter.”
He pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “You’re telling me you’ve never done that before?”
“I have no prior experience to suggest it's even an option.”
He looks genuinely offended by your answer. “Do you want to try?”
Your head falls back to fully take him in. He really is pretty. Never mind the faint, tired wrinkles bracketing his pale blue eyes, or the harsh features of a man who has clearly seen too much and slept too little. He’s simply too devastatingly gorgeous for his own good.
Even with the fragments of scars you’ve spent the last hour subconsciously counting on his neck, his shoulder, his chest. Scars that make you wonder what kind of terrifying life he leads when he isn't in a hotel room with a stranger, fucking their brains out.
And you’re very much aware you’re one of the few he’s taken to bed.
But is he always this attentive? This generous?
Does he fuck everyone else this hard yet still find the gentle grace to cradle their face and brush the hair out of their eyes?
You instantly hate how territorial you sound. It's wildly hypocritical for someone who values the cheap thrill of a purely physical transaction just as much as he clearly does. He’s just a good lover, you decide. And if tonight is the only night you get to have this man all to yourself, then so be it.
If he thinks he can make you squirt, then who are you to deny?
“You really think I’m about to squirt?”
“There’s only one way to find out.”
You frown. “What if it’s just pee?”
He kisses the wrinkled line between your brows. “Make a mess then, I don’t mind.”
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight.
“Then make me squirt, Leon.”
He dips his head, breathing the hot air of his lungs directly into your open mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”
Your pussy tightens reflexively at that, which he obviously catches. He catches on to every desperate tell your body gives him, actually. Probably the sole reason why you've already come an embarrassing number of times.
Not enough, apparently, because he’s already moving his hips in rapid rhythms—not too fast or too slow, but enough to have your eyes sliding shut, focusing on the stretch of his cock driving deep in and out of your cunt.
“Fucking beautiful,” he hums, binding your wrists together above your head. “Just lying there looking all pretty."
“H-harder,” you whine, weakly pushing your hips up to meet him.
“Yeah?” He squeezes your wrists together, leaning even more of his massive frame over you. “You like it when I go hard on you?”
Like it? You thrive on it, nodding frantically as your trembling thighs try to lock around his waist. Try is definitely the word when he’s practically flattened you beneath his crushing weight, effortlessly trapping your body. You can feel your limbs turn gooey and powerless, your stomach contrastingly hard.
“I know, baby, I know,” he rasps, ramming his hips harshly against yours. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“Ngh—h—”
“That’s it, give it to me. Make a mess on me.”
The panic hits you first, quickly swallowed by an absolute wave of pure heat. Starts as a buzzing ache in your core before violently spiking into an unbearable sensation. Your belly burns, coils, rattles—and you blink your eyes open, brimming with tears. “Leon—”
He instantly reads the panicked clench of your muscles.
“Don't fight it.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Your groan is feral. “I can’t—”
“Come on, baby, you’ve got to trust me,” he croons softly. “Do you trust me?”
Surprisingly, you do, even if your only judgment on this man comes from the three hours that have passed since you sat down next to him at the bar. “Yes.”
“Good. Then let it happen.”
Your breath stutters. Your body jerks.
“Breathe through your nose.”
He plunges in with a particularly harsh thrust and you gasp. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Oh, fuck—”
“That’s it.” He closes the last inch of space between you. Foreheads touching. “Let it go.”
You try to follow his words and suck in a sharp breath. Lungs expanding, ribs flaring, and the rush of oxygen pouring into your blood sharpens every sensation to something blinding.
It’s like a switch. One moment your muscles are tensed, then a passage of whines pitches upward as your orgasm barrels through you without warning. Strong and gut-wrenching. Body hot in bliss and shame—only for two seconds. Quick as it hits, he abruptly pulls out, instantly replacing his cock with two calloused fingers.
Your mouth gapes in a silent scream. Even more so when his offhand curls around your neck. Fingers pressing against the sides of your throat, palm flat against your windpipe, but exercising barely any pressure all the while his fingers fucks your swollen, dripping cunt.
You’ve seen yourself getting wet, you’ve felt yourself getting drenched, but you’ve never experienced anything as wild as this.
Speckles of liquid spatter across the sheets the more he drags his hand in an up-and-down motion, its squelching sound rising above the fight of your labored breathing.
He pushes his palm against your clit.
“Oh fuck! fuckfuckfuck—”
A sudden rush spills over him. Soaks the sheets beneath you in dark patches and streams down the inside of his wrist, seeping hot onto his thighs. He continues to pump his fingers while you lie there—crying openly, violently shuddering. It goes on for what feels like forever until he smoothes out his pressure around your throat, kissing the drool glistening on your lips with a disbelief chuckle.
“Should’ve met you sooner,” he laughs into your mouth, easily slipping his cock back in.
Maybe it’s the bliss completely corrupting your nervous system, or perhaps it’s the overwhelming stretch of his thick cock driving back into your overstimulated cunt. Whatever it is, you completely lose your grip on the casual nature of a one night stand, eager words spilling past your wet lips before you can even screen them.
“Can we meet again?” You pant. “Like—after tonight?”
You’re somewhere right on the edge of a pathetic whimper and a helpless laugh, entirely too pleasured to think straight, dangerously too giddy at the possibility of actually getting to know him. To uncover those scars in daylight, to figure out what kind of hell he had to survive to inherit those devastatingly sad yet kind eyes.
To learn his last name. To unearth his middle.
You gasp when he effortlessly flips you over, twisting his fingers in your hair and pulling it back.
Yeah, you’re going to let him absolutely ruin you tonight—and all the days that follow.
💭 thinking about re9!Leon Kennedy threatening to shave his happy trail 18+ I’m insane about him oml
He’s standing at the foot of your queen-sized bed in a pair of boxers, having just gotten out of the shower. “I think I might need to shave this off soon, baby.” Your head instantly snaps up at his direction, dropping the book you were reading onto the mattress beside you.
You watch in silent horror as he runs his hand over the dark hairs that dust across his chest and down towards that delicious happy trail of his, his brows all pinched together in contemplation, even the thought of him considering it sent you into panic.
“Absolutely not. No,” you tell him, shaking your head in vehement protest as you shuffle to the end of the bed on your knees.
His eyes catch yours, and his frown softens into a grin. “Look at it, baby, it’s getting out of control down here.” He huffs in amusement, fingers still grazing over the coarse hairs, heart melting a little at the way your lips purse out into a frowny pout.
“It’s sexy, Leon.” You tell him, brushing his hands away from the sacred trail with a huff. “You’re not allowed to just shave it all off.” your fingers now toy with the waistband of his boxers.
He chuckles, cupping your cheeks between his big palms and tilting your head back. “Not allowed? What you gonna stop me?”
“No… but if you shave it off I-I-” you pause, wracking your sleepy brain for a suitable punishment, “I won’t have sex with you until it grows back.”
“Oh, fighting talk, huh? You wouldn’t last a week, babe.” He replies smugly, knowing for a fact that he’s not wrong. You barely survive when he gets pulled away by his ever-demanding job, always relying on those special homemade videos you both made.
You groan in frustration, and he coos down at you, running the pad of his thumb over your pouty lips to try and coax you to smile— but it doesn’t work, you seem genuinely heartbroken, and he would be lying if he said it didn’t amuse him just a little.
“C’mon… don’t look at me like that, baby, it needs taming.”
You don’t answer, but your expression turns determined. You lean forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you press a wet kiss right over the hard ridge of his abs. His fingers slip into your hair, tightening a little at the roots, your name catching in his chest as you drag your tongue back up his firm stomach.
“Oh Fuck-” his voice comes out hoarse, ragged.
“Promise me you won’t get rid of it.” You tell him, dragging sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down to his V-line, and when he doesn’t answer right away, you pull back, scowling at him. “Promise me, Leon.”
“Yeah, yeah, I promise… I’ll keep it, s’all yours gorgeous.” He breathes out heavily from above you, dick already hard and twitching to life against the thin fabric of his boxers.
“Good.” You beam up him happily, tugging the waistband of his boxers down a little further with a lick of your lips.
જ⁀➴ Resident Evil Masterlist જ⁀➴ General Masterlist
AN: is this a safe space to say I love big hairy men and women?
love your work, esp the fic with leon and reader as friends to lovers !!! ive been thinking abt this for a hot minute but,,, hmo. agent!reader coming home after being at a bar with their friends and leon was really worried, so when they come back he’s all over them and wondering where they were and it eventually leads to really nasty smut,, like reader riding leon type smut. i totally see re4 or vendetta leon doing this , they have a place in my heart
a/n; mmmh riding vendetta leon...CRRRAAAAZY style....🤤 GOD THIS IS DELICIOUS. Thank you for the opportunity to write vendetta leon again cuz I rarely write for the movie eras nowadays. Also idk if this was meant to have any specific relationship for this fic, but there's only vague implications to an existing relationship between the two.
sum; after coming home absolutely shit-faced and needy, Leon's concern grows, much like the embarrassing tent in his sweats.
content; alcohol consumption, reader is HAMMERED, sort of subby!leon, riding, messy sex
wc; 2.2k
Leon had his fair share of disappearing at night sometimes. He had his history of drinking and leaving for the night—sometimes nights—but it was worrying when you'd disappear on a night out. Earlier in the day, you told leon you'd be going out with friends around 7 p.m., getting dinner and then going bar hopping, and you'd make sure you were home by 11 p.m.
Leon's brows furrowed as the clock neared midnight. You were usually so punctual with your timing, and you rarely ever got drunk. Of course you'd drink when you went out with friends, but never enough to make it a problem or you'd make sure you leveled it out and timed it right so you were at least coherent while being driven home. He tried calling you, but your phone just went to voice-mail. Maybe the battery died. He sighed heavily, deciding not to worry and just waiting in the bedroom for you.
It's pushing 1 a.m. when leon finally hears the door open, followed by heavy, uncoordinated footsteps and the lazy sounds of you trying to lock the door. Leon shuffled out of bed, brows furrowed faintly as he found you leaning into the door, almost unable to keep yourself upright as you fiddled with the locks on the door. Leon sighed, coming up behind you to offer support with an arm around your waist, his other hand coming to lock the two locks on the door of the apartment.
"It's one in the morning. You said you'd be home by eleven." Leon scolded quietly, helping you get rid of your jacket. You leaned into him, whining.
"I had ssss—sooo much fun." You argued.
"Yeah, smells like it." He huffed. "Is this how you feel when I come home all shit faced and smelling like alcohol?" He joked, helping you kick your shoes off before you stumbled toward the bedroom.
"Mmh, shhh, you'll wake the neighbors." You slurred, shuffling to find the wall for support as you turned back to Leon.
"Hey—hang on! Where on earth were you? You were out until one a.m., and you're not going to tell me where you were?"
"I was out! Bars. Probably a food truck or two. I dunno." You groaned at his persistent pushing to find out why you were out so late.
"You didn't answer your phone once. Not even texts before you were gone for the first hour." He frowned, meeting you where you stood against the wall, your movement antsy and whiney as you tried not to run off and avoid his scolding. You'd both realize later how hypocritical this was of him, but you only had one thought now.
"Can I show you how sss—" You interrupted yourself with a small hiccup, swallowing thickly before you continued, "s-sorry I am?" You fell forward into him, and he tensed as he caught you, letting your face bury into his neck.
He hesitated, unsure of what your apology entailed, but he helped you upright with a firm grasp around your waist. "You're drunk." He said firmly.
"Lee," you whined, hands splaying over his chest and clutching at his shirt.
"I know you needed a night out. You've been absolutely fucking swamped at work, and the missions, and the lack of alone time—"
"I don't wanna talk about work." You grumbled. "Why can't I just apologize how I want to?" You huffed.
"You're stressed. You needed a night off. You don't need to apologize."
"But you're upset."
"I'm upset because you didn't answer your phone, you got home at one in the morning, you're absolutely shit faced, and now—"
You grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him downward and making both of you stumble backward to where your back pressed to the wall with your lips crashing messily against his. Leon grunted, left hand holding your waist while his right hand smacked against the wall so he didn't fall against you.
"Shut up." You scolded, panting lightly against his lips. You deepened the sloppy kiss, lips notching together perfectly with his focus on your lower lip. After a moment, he eased into your advances, letting out a low, smooth purr of arousal.
"You—" He exhaled, trying to pull back to speak. You kept him close with a hand gripping his hair. "You are drunk." He sputtered against the kiss, only for you to pull away and huff, brows furrowing.
"I'm drunk, apologetic, and unbelievably horny. You're just lucky I made it home before I pulled over and dealt with myself." You stared up at him.
"You drove home?" He pulled back further.
"Ugh, no, I had Maddy drive me home." You groaned.
"Then how would you—"
"Empty threats, Leon! Can't you avoid questioning me for five minutes?" You leaned back, slouching against the wall with an exhausted whine.
"Maybe you should try weed instead of alcohol." He muttered.
"Weed isn't much different. Are you done lecturing me, or can I continue?" You looked up at him, eyes droopy and half-lidded. You exhaled slightly, only for the breath to be interrupted with a small hiccup and a groan. When Leon didn't answer, you moved forward and yanked him by the shirt to make him follow you to the bedroom down the hall. Before he could object—which he wasn't planning on doing—you had him pushed onto the bed and you were already ridding yourself of your clothes. You had to fiddle with the zipper of your skirt, but once that was done, you crawled onto the bed with him and straddled him.
Now, clad in only a lace set matching with a pretty midnight blue color, Leon could hardly sputter out a poor excuse for some kind of response. He swallowed harshly, looking up at you.
"Are you going to stay dressed and deal with the mess of laundry or are you—"
"Undressing." He said quickly, reaching to take off his shirt and move to undo the drawstring of his sweats. With the sweats easily loosened, you lifted your hips and let him shimmy the pants down a little to where he could easily kick them off.
"That's better." You muttered, settling in his lap and earning a faint squeak of a response thanks to the pressure of your core pressing against the base of his cock through the thin layer of his boxers and your panties. "Sensitive." You giggled, biting at your lip as you gave an experimental drag of your hips, only for his legs to jerk and his hips to hump against you.
"This is supposed to be an apology." He huffed.
"Eh, changed my mind. Just really wanted to get my hands on you." You grinned, dragging your hips back and forth with a torturous pressure. You moaned softly as you angled your hips to let his tip catch against your clit. He let his head fall back.
Usually, foreplay would last at least another ten minutes with you. You needed a little more attention than Leon, so when he felt you already pushing his boxers down and pulling your panties aside, he was momentarily stunted and completely caught off guard. He blinked, lips parted.
"Aren't you gonna.. tease a little more?" He asked quietly, huffing faintly as he looked down where your body hovered above his.
"I don't need to." You gestured down at his already aching boner, and it became clear that you were excited enough when you propped his cock upright and let the fat tip press against your entrance. He choked on air, lips falling open as he clutched at the bedsheets to contain himself and avoid bucking his hips.
You eased down onto his length, your walls thoroughly soaking his length and dripping down his cock as you began to rise and fall on his length. Leon wasn't used to the pace of things—you were going too fast for him to process half of it, too fast for him to savor the feeling of you wrapped snug around him, and too fast for him to focus on not cumming within an embarrassing time.
"Oh—oh, fuck," he exhaled heavily, head fallen back as his brows furrowed, his thighs tense and shaky. "Slow down," he huffed, hands coming to hold your hips in a poor attempt to slow you down.
"Mm—mm." You shook your head, biting your lower lip as you pushed more upright in his lap, hips rising and falling so fast that your thighs began to burn within the first minute or two.
The mattress and bed frame creaked under the weight and motion, the sounds of metal and wood stressing mingled nicely with the moans and whines of Leon and the moans and gasps from you. Leon took in the sight finally—starting at your lower half. Your thighs tense, the fat of your thighs, ass, and hips jiggling with every bounce. Your pussy stretched impossibly tight around his girth, and your tits bouncing with each movement from you. Leon's hands, shaky and weak, came to grope and palm at your tits. You'd think your drunken state would render you sloppy, unstable, weak, or even drowsy!
No, no, you didn't seem to take alcohol the way Leon did. Leon definitely took alcohol and was knocked out by the time he'd make it home. If he managed to, that is. You? Oh, you took it and ran with it like it was holding you hostage and you needed to make up for drinking so much. Leon was the one rendered weak and shaky and sloppy—although for once, he was the sober one!
"Fuck, please," he choked out, eyes rolling back. "You gotta.. gotta slow down." He whined, hips subconsciously bucking and chasing a deeper, insistent need.
"Uh-uh." You huffed. "Not... not happenin'." You slurred slightly, leaning back and planting your palms firmly on his thighs, which were tense in an effort to hold himself back. The different angle made the head of his cock push harder against your g-spot with every downward slam of your hips. Your moans grew louder, heavy breathing mingling with the sounds within the bedroom.
"Oh, shit, please!" He practically cried, brows knitting tighter as his body locked up sporadically. You shook your head, a small giggle leaving your lips at his desperate clutching at your hips and the blankets, his back arching. He looked absolutely pathetic—you hoped you'd remember the look on his face. Nose scrunched, brows knitted, soft blue eyes brimming with fat tears, lips quivering and almost spilling over with drool.
"Y're s-so fuckin' pathetic." You purred with a slight stammer in your words, looking down at him with a slightly crooked grin, all too happy with the state of Leon in the moment.
Leon could hardly muster up a poor excuse for arguing your claim, his mind preoccupied by the fact that he was going insane with your tight cunt around his cock, and the sight of you riding him like there really was no tomorrow. His hands grasped desperately at your thighs, his short and blunt nails digging into your skin as he fucked upward to meet your hips. He whimpered, legs kicking with every sharp shock of pleasure that would run through him. He could feel his end coming. He knew this was going to be so embarrassing—usually he at least had the decency to tell you, but the way you'd turned his brain to mush made it hard.
You could feel it, too. Leon's signs of orgasm were never subtle. Twitchy cock, legs jolting or shaking harder, his chest jittering with shaky, uneven breaths, and the most subtle but still noticeable in certain angles, was how his cock would throb and his balls would draw up tight. Without a warning, Leon's fingers clawed down your thighs, his cock pulsing and spilling his cum into you in thick, heavy spurts that made your body shiver. You rode him through the orgasm until his cum began to leak and spill out of your pussy. You took one hand and brought it to draw tight, messy circles against your clit with your middle and ring finger.
With his cock softening, sensitivity reaching a high, Leon practically cried. "Fuck—hoo—oh, god, y're gonna fuckin' break me, baby," he panted, barely coherent and audible as he watched you chase your own pleasure with no regard for his need for a break. Luckily, you weren't far behind, but it still took enough time for Leon's tears to finally spill over and decorate his cheeks with faint streaks.
You mewled at your pleasure peaking, thighs tensing and knees locking as you ground against him. It wasn't as good as it could've been, but it was enough for Leon's torture to be over. Your walls pulsed around him, and he shivered and squirmed and whined, shoulders tense as he turned his head to hide it in the pillows. You huffed, leaning over him as you lifted your hips and let the last bits of your shared mess spill onto his cock. His length twitched in response, but gave no other indication of round two.
You settled to lay on his chest, nuzzling up close to him as you kissed at his collarbone. "Mmh," you purred quietly, eyes closing. "Y're warm."
"Uh-huh.." Leon huffed quietly, eyes falling shut as his trembly hands came to rest over your back, keeping you close. "I'll join you for drinks from now on." He muttered. You were too tired to argue, and his words fell deaf upon your ears as you were already slipping into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.
𑣲𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ─── You grew up defying the village’s only law: never enter the forest. But the forest gave you a companion, a wolf who never left your side. At twenty-three, forced into marriage with a man you cannot love, the wolf comes to save you, not as you remembered him, but as something far more dangerous.
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ᣟ𐚁˳ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : WEREWOLF ! LEON KENNEDY x fem!reader, afab! reader, gothic fairytale AU kind of, little red riding hood inspired, mentions of blood, violence, slight gore, death, arranged marriage, religious symbolism, false prophets, outcast reader, dark romance ???, slow burn, gothic horror elements, age gap ( leon is literally hundreds of years old), morally grey characters, ABO basically (mates, knots, short desc of leons dick), unprotected p in v, virginity loss, belly bulge, cumflation, fingering ( f receiving ), lots of talking, if there's something else lmk !!!
݁ᲝAIᲘ ᲝEᲘU | ˖Ი𐑼⋆ 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐈 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 🎮 . ᐟ.ᐟ hey yall.. i was gone for an eternity... again... BUT I AM BACK WITH THIS STORY YEPPEEE !! i bring you werewolf leon. its a rewrite of another fic of mine with some changes. i hope you enjoy this tiny world ive built and lmk if you'd like a longer series.
As the full moon settles deep under the hilltops, the sun bloodies up the sky again, signaling yet another day has begun. This cruel world, for what it is worth, has its beauty. A beauty that punishes as much as it blesses, that lures you with sweet words only to tear you apart in the next breath. No child is born into this world without being touched by its cruelty.
And you were no exception.
The village had rules that were written in the marrow of every person, written in every lullaby people sung to children. Never step into the forest, it was not yours to touch.
The trees were old, older than the temple stones, older than the altars where false gods, charlatans pretending to be holy men, now fattened themselves on coin and praise. The forest belonged to others, others who were not men nor beast.
But what does a child care for rules when the air is new with spring and the light pools gold on the green grass?
You saw her first, the little doe. Her flank streaked red, a gash blooming along her side. She stumbled from the underbrush and collapsed just beyond the tree line, sides heaving, eyes rolling white. Without thought and without even fear, your little legs carried you to her.
"Hello.." you whispered, voice small and trembling, hands outstretched as if your touch alone could heal it. Behind you, the village roofs slept in the distance. Ahead, the trees loomed, black spines against the dawn.
And in their shadows, something watched.
You didn’t see it at first, only heard the sound of branches shifting, a low pad of paws on damp earth. The doe’s ears flicked but she did not bolt. Perhaps she understood before you did.
Yellow eyes, twin coals, caught the newborn sun.
The huge wolf stood where the light couldn’t reach, silent. Enormous. His coat was dark, thick, blending with the shadows, but his gaze burned. He did not lunge and he did not growl. He only looked. A scream might have saved you, running might have spared you. But instead you did the strangest, most dangerous thing of all.
"She’s hurt.. Don’tㅡ be cruel!" You clenched your fists by your side.
The wolf tilted his head, as though the words puzzled him. As if even he couldn't understand how one could be so careless and so naive. What a silly girl, he probably thought. Then he stepped back into the deeper dark. He was gone just like that.
The doe trembled under your touch, its warm blood slicking your palms. You cried, not out of fear, but frustration. You had no way to help. Your family’s apothecary was full of herbs, tinctures, salves yet here, in the lonesome forest, you were helpless.
By the time you fetched anyone, the doe was gone. The grass was stained where she had lain, the earth turned over in signs of struggle. And among them you saw pawprints, larger than any normal dog or wolf.
You told no one, but you kept going back since then.
By fourteen, you had understood well what it meant to be silent. The apothecary shelves sagged with jars no one bought anymore, the herbs inside curling into dust. The air smelled like thyme and lamiaceae, but no footsteps crossed the threshold. Only your father’s voice filled the old space, muttering as he ground another root no one had asked for.
You kept your head down, hands busy, because it was easier that way, easier than watching the villagers bow to men in gold chains and red velvet robes, who arrived in their square with empty promises. Easier than noticing how your mother’s eyes lingered on the cracked beams above the counter, as though she were counting how many more days before they collapsed.
When the feeling of it was too much, you went where no one was supposed to go.
The forest was forbidden, yes, but it welcomed you more kindly than the village ever had. The trees leaned low, their branches a shelter. Wildflowers tangled at your ankles, and the streams whispered secrets you never dared tell your mother.
And when you went in the forest, he was there.
You couldn’t always see him. Sometimes he was only a shadow between trunks, or a faint rustle in the leaves. But you knew he was there.
Even when the woods were still, you felt eyes on you. Not cruel, not yet kind. Only watching, maybe curious just as you.
You should have been afraid. Perhaps you were, at first. But children grow used to danger when it becomes a part of their days. You carried your fear like another basket in your hands, which was heavy but it became ordinary.
Once, gathering berries, your hem snagged on a thorn. You tugged too hard and stumbled, and the fruit scattering into the dirt. Hot tears stung your eyes, not for the pain in your scraped knee, but for the waste. It was foolish, yes, yet you cried anyway.
You looked up through wet lashes and saw them, those two stars burning in the shade. The wolf. He seemed larger than before.
You did not run, foolish child. "Don’t laugh at me.." you said. "It wasn’t my fault!"
He tilted his head, and for a moment you heard the faintest rumble.
Your heart beat so loud you thought it might shake loose out of your chest. When you left, you felt lighter. As though confessing your shame to the shadows had eased something in you.
You didn’t tell anyone about it. How could you? No one would believe that the forest had listened to a little girl.
As time passed, so had your hope in the world. For the time will never stop to aid mere dreamers.
The bell above the apothecary door rang, a foreign sound now, and you froze mid sweep, hands gripping the broom so tightly.
Your father's shoulders tensed behind the counter, jaw tight as he straightened the jars of powdered plants. Your mother's eyes flicked toward the newcomers, wary, composed, as though she had been expecting them all of her life.
They were the gilded men, with heads high, and their robes of deep red embroidered with gold, coins clinking as they moved. One stepped forward, hands behind his back, a vile smile on his revolving face.
"Good day." he said. "We have heard of your, how shall I say, services to the village over the years. And we think perhaps we can improve upon them."
Your stomach knotted. You knew these men. Men who hid in holy trappings. Oh, men. They weren't worthy of such title.
"We have what we need." Your father’s words did not falter. "The herbs, the roots, they are ours... We tend them with care."
The man tilted his head, smile widening, his ugly eyes scanning you for a moment, lingering a bit too long before sliding back to your parents.
"Ah, but of course!" he said. "But care alone does not suffice. People desire results. We can provide those results. And in exchange we require only your cooperation!"
Your mother’s fingers twitched, brushing a loose strand of hair from her forehead. "Cooperation?" she asked, trying to calm herself, all though you could see the tears in her eyes.
"What is it you mean?"
The man’s gaze flicked to you again. "A simple matter. We wish to purchase the apothecary. Its location, its resources, and its goodwill with the people. We will provide wealth, advancement, a future."
A laugh slipped from somewhere in your chest. It was bitter. Your hands pressed to your apron as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.
"A future?" you whispered. "You call it a future, but why does this village feel like a cage?"
One of the other men, who was shorter and more rotund with a bald patch on the top of his head, leaned forward.
"Dear girl.." He glanced at you, as if noticing you for the first time. "You work here?" He cocked an eyebrow.
"She is my daughter." Your father began.
"Oh, yes.. lovely, diligent, though unseen. Perhaps you can assist us in the transition?"
You swallowed. You'd rather die than help. Your throat was dry. You wanted to speak, to argue, to tell them they had no right, that this was your father's work, your mother's dreams, but the words stuck somewhere behind your heart.
"They will take the shelves." you heard your mother mutter under her breath to your father, but the words were lost amid the polished laughter of the men. "They will take everything.."
And then you heard your father's voice, which was sorrowful.
"If we refuse, they will burn us from the village. They will take the apothecary by force, and the people will cheer."
You felt small and hollow, as the men made their terms clear. Coins were counted, papers slid across the counter, signatures pressed into ink that smelled of rot and control.
The tall man with eyes like polished diamonds turned to you.
"You may stay." he said softly. "You shall be the maid. Admirable work, yes." But you did not feel admired.
You felt exposed, like a fish caught in a net. The door closed behind them, the bell ringing one last time. Silence filled the room. You sank onto the floor behind a low shelf, hands gripping your knees, cheeks streaked with tears you hadn’t meant to shed.
"Why did yㅡyou let them.. Why?"
"Child.." your mother said, her voice trembling now "We had no choice. Not anymore. We were lucky to have lasted this long."
You pressed your face to your knees, letting the sobs come. And somewhere beneath those tears the memory of the forest stirred, a place where no gilded man could enter, where no coin could buy or threaten.
Again, you ran.
You ran until the cobblestones gave way to soft earth, until the scent of smoke and coin and polished wood faded behind you. Your legs trembled, from exhaustion, from the hurt of helplessness, the spoiled, ugly taste of despair curling on your tongue.
The trees leaned toward you as you stumbled into the forest, leaves brushing your hair like words comfort, roots rising to steady your frantic steps.
Your breaths came unevenly, sharp and desperate and then you finally fell to your knees on the soft earth.
You buried your face in your arms, letting the tears come freely. You felt it all now. The flowers at your feet, the petals damp with dew. Somewhere nearby, a stream murmured, threading its way through the underbrush. You shivered and pressed your body closer to the earth, curling in on yourself.
Hours passed.
When you stirred, the sky was lighter, pink at the edges of the canopy. You looked around, trying to shake some sense into your sleepy mind.
And there he was again.
He did not approach, did not make a sound. He simply stood there, dark and immense, watching and patient, as always.
You lifted your head, blurry eyed. "IㅡI can't do anything right!"
You pressed your hands to your face again, ashamed. Yet you felt seen without judgment, without ridicule. By him.
More hours must have passed in that stillness. When you dared to open your eyes again, the forest had shifted with the afternoon light. Around you, the petals of wildflowers were arranged into a soft, inviting bed, and beside you lay a small pile of berries, dark and ripe.
Golden eyes watched from the shadow line of trees. He had been guarding.
"Youㅡ did not leave.."
Something swelled in your chest, fear, yes, but something else, too. Comfort. Wonder? Maybe. A connection to something alive and strong in a world that had often been cruel.
You pressed your hands to the ground and leaned forward, face nearly touching the petals, murmuring "I’m sorry.. for everything. I know I cry a lot.."
And for the first time in a long while, curled amongst the blossoms with the sweet berries at your side, you dared to let your wild heart rest, even if only for a little while.
The village shifted around you, but not toward kindness. The apothecary your parents once ran, now a Coin House with no herbs that filled the shelves, no smell of lavender or warm wax, only the faint must of old wood and money hungry monsters. You still worked there, of course.
Your father had left a year ago, or more, you lost count of time, claiming he needed to secure more patrons. Even if the apothecary was no longer, he still wanted to sell what was left of it.
Villagers came, yes, but not for cures. They left coins pressed into your hands or on the counter, whispered prayers tucked into envelopes, along the little richness they had. They were trusting, hoping, that one day, some return would be made if they gave it all away now. Some profit, some miracle from God himself.
No one expected him back, not after three months had passed. After seven moths of him gone, your mother became a ghost of whom she was, counting the little coins left, counting days, counting her strength until it ran thin.
The man chosen for you was old and cruel, but rich, yet unmoving as stone. Your mother spoke little when she told you. Your father was now gone, so it was your turn to give back for the many years they have raised you, fed you, clothed you.
Days came and went, and you were twenty three now, which meant one thing: you were eligible. And the arrangements had already been made.
And so, the day of the meeting came. Alongside him was the richest of them all, his brother perhaps. They looked related, both with shrunken faces and blue eyes, yet with guts huge from the lot of money they ate on the daily. Gluttony and Greed, both stood in front of you.
Greed did not smile, yet his brother spoke softly, as if talking to a child. "Your duty is simple." he said. "Love him, worship him, bear his children, keep to his house. That is your life now.”
You nodded, but the destain in your eyes was clear. You wanted to bite back, rip straight through their jugular, for the taste of ugliness was too much on your tongue and the thorns that pierced your heart were growing.
"What if I do not want to?"
Gluttony turned to his brother in silence, as if considering it. Then, they erupted in laughter, their voices echoing in the empty church.
"You are a child even more so a woman! You will do as you're told." They both laughed some more, as if seeing you take into account what you might actually want was the tastiest meal they’ve ever had.
"Stupid woman."
"Obey, and do not make me repeat myself. You're only but a lowly peasant girl, with no father and a mother on the brink of death. You should feel lucky you were chosen."
You sucked in a deep breath, the wind hitting against the dusty glass windows. You would be damned if you ever cried in front of a hoaxer, not again, not ever. You may be forced to marry that heathen of a man, Greed, but no one could force you to love him.
So that was that. You excused yourself and walked out of the church, the sundown hugging you with its golden light.
Alone, you walked the quiet streets of the village, listening to the distant crackles of lanterns, to the clatter of pots and pans as people were preparing supper.
The forest at the edge of the village beckoned. And you slipped toward it, letting your tears fall freely.
Branches arched above like spires, and the earth beneath you was soft. Somewhere in the shadows, that same presence remained.
Tears slipped down your cheeks as you stumbled over a root. You pressed your hands to your face and let it all go, the sobs coming ragged and ugly. You had nowhere to hide now, but the forest did not judge you for that.
You froze, half blind with tears. He came, the wolf. Closer than ever before.
He came forward until his shadow covered yours, and lowered himself until his head pressed into your lap. Your breath hitched. Fingers hovered, trembling, until instinct overcame fear. You touched him. His fur was thicker, softer than you had imagined all these years.
The heat of him seeped through your skirts, steadying you as though he were more real than anything else in the world.
"I-I do not know what to do.." you whispered to the wolf. "They want to— to marry me off. To him. He is.. he’s cruel, and I’ll be nothing but a caged bird."
The wolf’s chest rose and fell.
"I don’t want to leave. I belong here.." Your voice cracked. "I belong to the trees, and the streams, and the air in this forest, not to him! Oh, little wolf.."
His ears twitched.
"I wish I was brave." you confessed. "I wish.. I could say no. But Mother says we’ll die otherwise. She says I must be grateful."
Your fingers sank deeper into his fur, clutching at it. "They all look at me like I’m a coin to be spent. No one asks me what I want. Not once, not ever..."
The wolf let out a low sound then, a growl that shaked against your hands, your thighs and your chest. "I know.." you said, as if he had spoken. "You understand, don’t you? You’ve been here all along.. You are my only friend."
Silence stretched. You curled forward, pressing your forehead to the crown of his head, your tears dampening his fur. "If you were human, I'd ask you to take me away. Anywhere! Anywhere but here..."
The wolf stilled. If it were human.
There were only seven more days left until the ceremony. People who had never even known you were to arrive, to celebrate the union that would forever bind you to that monster.
You were out in the back garden, looking at the now dead plants your dad used to take care of. This patch of earth had been his pride. It used to be a place full of life, now, the stalks were brittle, the soil dry and cracked. A graveyard of what had been. It was truly horrible how much things could change in so small a span of years.
Some crunching on nearby leaves wake you from your sorrowful trance. You lifted your head, and froze. A man stood at the edge of the garden. A villager. No, he couldn't be one. You knew every face, good or bad.
No, this man was someone else.
Tall, broad, his shoulders filling the space as if the light itself had to bend to allow him through. His hair was light, touched with grey that caught the wan light of dusk, and his jaw was shadowed with rough stubble. His face looked carved from something older than the stone of this earth, something cruel yet tender all at once.
You tried to speak but couldn't. You felt the strangest pull, not fear exactly, but almost recognition. As though your soul had seen him before, but your eyes never had.
He looked at you, trying to weigh his words as to not scare you away, perhaps.
"You live here?" His voice was lower than you expected. It sounded just like thunder.
You swallowed and shaked your head. "YㅡYes." The word snagged in your throat. You hadn’t stammered like this in front of a man since you were a child.
He stepped no closer, though you realized you wished he would. "Strange place for someone like you." he said quietly, his eyes drifting over the dead garden you were mourning.
You looked down at your hands, embarrassed without knowing why. "It wasn’t always like this."
When you dared to look up again, he was already walking away, vanishing into the trees.
He came again, and again. Never with warning, never with reason. Sometimes he asked simple things. Whether you liked the woods, whether you feared them.
Sometimes he said nothing at all, only watched you as though he were reading you like a book. You never found the courage to ask who he was.
But each time he came, your shyness only deepened. His presence made you clumsy with words, made your skin burn beneath his gaze, all blushed and warm like simmering milk on fire.
You always waited for him, in the same place, with that same feeling in your stomach.
He was older, rougher, and oh so handsome, nothing like the boys who tried to snicker at you in the square, or the odious man you were about to marry.
Three days until the wedding, you slipped away to the forest and the wolf was there, as always, waiting.
The wolf’s ears flicked. You laughed softly, reaching out to pet him. "I must sound foolish, don’t I? Telling secrets to a wolf... But I can’t tell anyone else. Not Mother, not the others. Only you, my little friend."
"I've met someone." you confessed, cheeks heating though no one else could hear what you had said. "The most handsome man I’ve ever seen. It seems like... Like he understands me, even if he doesn’t say much."
You brushed your fingers through his fur.
"His voice is so soft and sweet, but so strong.." you whispered. "It feels like I’ve heard it before. Maybe in a dream..." The wolf closed his eyes. The forest went utterly still.
Maybe in a dream.
The second to last day came fast.
The house was filled with people and of preparations. Strangers came and went, voices too loud, hands too busy arranging a future you wanted no part of. Your mother’s face was pale, her eyes darting whenever they met yours, as though she couldn’t bear the sight of what she’d done.
You escaped to the garden, as you always did. The plants were still dead, the soil still barren, but at least here the noise of the village could not reach you.
You sat on your little stool by the fence, skirts brushing the dirt, fingers plucking absently at a wilted stem until it snapped.
And as always, he came.
He lingered at the edge of the garden, that towering frame occupying the fading light. He never crossed into the garden as though there was an invisible wall between you two.
He didn’t speak and only watched you with that unreadable gaze, his arms folded across his chest.
You tried not to look at him too long. Tried not to let him see the way your throat tightened or how your heart was knocking against your ribs.
"I will get married tomorrow!" you called. The words tore from your throat louder than you'd meant. You were desperate.
But the silence pressed on you until you thought you might choke. When at last he turned to leave, something in you broke.
You rose from your stool, fists clenching at your sides. "I do n—ot want to." your voice cracked. "But I must."
Slowly, he turned his head, just enough to glance over his shoulder. In the dim light, you saw the sharp set of his jaw.
"Why must I marry someone whom I do not love?" you asked, your voice breaking into a sob. "Why must I give myself to a man I despise?"
For a long, long moment, he said nothing. Did he even hear you?
"The world is a cruel place, little miss."
He turned his back again, striding away, but his voice you still heard as he walked in the coming darkness. "But you will get your happiness in no time."
He was gone just like that, swallowed whole by the forest. You stood alone in your silence, tears running down your face like a cascade.
The door snapped open behind you.
"What are you doing out here? Who are you talking to?" your mother’s voice cut like a whip across your skin.
You turned quickly, dragging the back of your hand across your cheeks, but it was too late. Her eyes narrowed, catching the redness in yours.
"Is this how you plan to make these plants come back alive?" she snapped, gesturing to the withered stalks around you. "Crying over them?"
Her shoulders lowered just slightly. The sharpness in her tone gave way to something softer, as she sighed. "Come, child. It’s dark."
Your frown deepened, and you wiped your tears more harshly this time, angry at yourself for letting her see. Angry at the world for making you cry at all.
You hesitated, glancing back once at the trees.
"Come inside." she called your name, louder now.
And though every part of you longed to run into the forest and follow him, you obeyed.
The morning of your wedding dawned without mercy.
Church bells tolled in the square. Didn't they know what fate they were striking for you? Your mother’s hands trembled as she drew the white gown over your shoulders.
The cloth was rich, far richer than anything you had ever owned yet it felt like a shroud, heavy and suffocating you.
"Stand still." She whispered sharply. "Do not shame me before them."
You stood stiff as she pinned the veil into your hair. It fell like a curtain of smoke over your face, blurring the world into shadow. When you looked down at yourself, the white was blinding, sanctified but you knew it wasn’t purity they celebrated. It was possession.
"They will see you as a proper wife." your mother began, tying the last ribbon at your waist. "And perhaps you will know comfort. Perhaps not. But you must endure, child."
You turned your face toward her, though the veil softened her features. "Do you call this comfort?"
Her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Do not make me answer that! The world has no patience for women who dream too much."
The door opened. The sound of voices carried from outside, of villagers gathering, the clatter of carts, the laughter of children who did not know better.
Your stomach twisted.
The walk to the chapel felt endless. Each step made you feel as if you were walking to your own funeral. Villagers turned their heads as you passed, some smiling, some whispering behind their hands.
A few looked at you with pity, yet none dared to speak.
The chapel loomed ahead, its spire stabbing the sky. Inside, candles flickered against the stone, throwing long shadows. The priest stood ready, his robes gleaming red and gold. Beside him, your groom waited.
The Greed. He was older than you by decades, his face sagging like wax melted in the august sun. Rings glittered on every finger, but his eyes were small, so sharp and hungry. When you approached, he grinned, a crooked thing of a smile.
"Lift her veil." he ordered to the best man, who was there to make sure you will not try to run away.
The man reached for you, and for a moment, you thought to pull back, but your mother’s hand pressed at your back, forcing you forward. The veil was lifted.
The groom’s eyes swept over your face, down your form, slow and possessive. "You shall give me strong sons." he said.
The priest cleared his throat, raising his hands. "Before the eyes of the God and of men, we bind these two.”
The groom’s hand clamped down on yours, his nails digging into your glove. His smile was a sneer, fat, greedy and assured. The priest’s voice rose again, but the sound was muddied by your own heartbeat in your eardrums. You wished to kill, eat them all alive then spit them out and let whatever God they prayed to do the judging.
"Let no one put asunder what is bound this day—"
The doors exploded.
Wood splintered, crashing inward as a sound like thunder split the air. A growl rolled through the church, low and guttural vibrating the very walls of it.
The wolf filled the doorway.
Gasps, screams, prayers, a flood of voices all at once. His teeth gleamed wet, his eyes burned like molten moons. He stepped forward, claws raking the stone, and the people fell back.
"The Beast!" the priest yelled, holding his relic high. "The Abomination!"
The wolf lunged. The relic snapped like kindling between his jaws, the priest crumpling beneath him with a scream that ended wet as his very bones shattered.
Panic erupted. Guests scrambled over pews, mothers shielding children, men fumbling for weapons they had no courage to use.
The wolf moved through them like fire through dry fields. He was unstoppable, merciless. He ripped one man in half, sent another crashing against the altar with a swipe of his large paw. The whole building shook with the force of his fury.
Your mother grabbed your wrist. "Run!" She gasped, tugging you toward the side door. But the crush of bodies shoved her back. You saw her eyes widen with tears before the crowd carried her away.
The groom shrieked, pushing you aside as he tried to flee, yet his velvet robes tangled his legs. He stumbled, falling hard. The wolf’s head snapped toward him, lips curling back over fangs.
"No—!" the man wailed. "Stay away you monster!"
The wolf’s jaws closed on his neck, dragging him across the stone. His scream ripped through the chapel as blood sprayed the white floor.
The wolf shook him like a rag, bones cracking, flesh tearing, his head barely connected to the rest of his body now.
You pressed against the altar, your veil slipping, your hands shaking, and yet your heart did not cower. Not from him.
The wolf dropped what was left of the man. He turned, his chest heaving, blood matting his muzzle. His eyes locked on yours.
You thought it must be all a dream, surely. But then he began to change. From beast to man.
His form convulsed, stretching, breaking. Bones shifted beneath fur, muscle twisting, reshaping. Claws curled back into fingers, fur melting into skin slick with sweat and blood, the growls faded into a human gasp.
When it ended, he stood before you. The man from the garden.
His chest rose and fell, blood running down his arms, his hands. His eyes, the same golden fire, fixed on you.
The church lay in ruin around you, the floor slick with blood, streaking your once white gown. The cries of the dying were echoing off the stone.
You swallowed. "You.." The word barely scraped out by your lips "You killed them all."
His gaze didn’t flinch. "I spared who deserved sparing." His voice was low "The rest—" He glanced briefly toward the broken benches, the dead people, the corpse of the man you were meant to wed. His lip curled "The rest were vermin."
Your throat tightened. "But you—" you shook your head, tears streaking down your cheeks. "You’re the wolf."
"I was." you whispered. "At first. I thoughtㅡ I thought you might devour me.."
"And you were never afraid."
"Yet.." his voice rumbled "You stayed."
"Why me?" You blinked hard. "Why not anyone else? Why watch over me?"
His breath shuddered as he stopped just before you, close enough that you could smell the copper on his skin. "Because you were never theirs to take." he said. "Because you are mine."
"Yours?"
The corner of his mouth curled in a smile, but heavy, sorrowful. "Do you not feel it?" His eyes searched yours.
"All those nights you spoke to me as though I could answer? All those tears you spilled into the earth, thinking no one cared? I was there. Always."
"No.." Your hand lifted, trembling, and you touched your chest where your heart thundered. "I thoughtㅡ I thought I was imagining it."
"You were not imagining me." He reached then, slowly, taking your hand in his. His fingers were slick with blood, staining yours, binding them together. He lifted it, bowing his head, pressing his lips hard against your knuckles.
His eyes flicked up, still holding your hand against his mouth. "Would you rather I left you to him? To a life of chains?"
You gasped softly, your tears slipping faster. "You’re covered in blood... are you hurt?"
"No!" The word burst out. "I would rather d-die than belong to him."
He released a sharp breath, almost a laugh. "Good. Then you belong to me."
Your other hand rose, cupping his cheek. The blood was now dry. Still, he leaned into your touch, his eyes slipping shut in relief. "Say it."
"I belong to you.."
His eyes snapped open and then his mouth crashed against yours.
The kiss was brutal, desperate, full of teeth and hunger. His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you close, as if he might fuse you to him forever.
Your very first kiss. He has waited for so long.
The taste of his tongue was iron and smoke, your lips smeared with blood, his, yours, theirs, you didn’t care. You clung to him, hands gripping his shoulders as if he gave you life.
"I shall make you mine now."
Your veil had slipped back, tangled with your hair, sticky with blood. The pristine white of your gown was gone, streaked red where his hands had held you, where strangers had fallen. You should have been horrified, undone by it all, yet when his golden eyes burned down into yours, you felt nothing but heat.
"Come." he said, his hand took yours. "This place will rot. It was never meant for you."
He pulled you gently over broken benches and shattered glass. The chapel doors hung open, crooked on their hinges, and beyond them the forest called.
Outside, the night was waiting. The moon swelled fat above the treeline, its silver light spilling down like a blessing.
You stumbled once, the hem of your dress catching, but his arm caught you. The chaos around you was nothing compared to the need burning in him.
He led you into the shadows, further and further, until the screams of the village were only echoes in the wind.
Finally, when the trees grew dense enough to hide you from every prying eye, he stopped. His chest rose and fell, still ragged from battle. He turned to you.
"You do not know what I am." He said.
You swallowed hard, your hand still trapped in his. "I do. You’re my wolf, my friend.."
"Not just a wolf." He looked past you "A man, a beast— both, and neither. Long before your priests, before your coin houses and their false gods, my kind walked among yours. We lived, we loved, we shared blood and bread and fire."
He paused, his breath unsteady. "But men are quick to fear what they cannot chain. So a treaty was carvedㅡ your kind to the villages, mine to the forest. We were forbidden to take wives from you, forbidden to bear children together. It was peace, they said. Peace bought with walls."
"And you obeyed?"
"For a time." His mouth curved, bitter. "Until they stole what was mine." His hand tightened around yours. "You."
"I—I don’t understand."
His other hand rose, rough fingers brushing your jaw. "You are my mate. From the moment you were born, from the moment you stepped into the forest as a child, I knew. Your scent, your voice IㅡI could not keep away. The treaty has no claim on you. No paper signed by frightened vermin can sever what the moon has bound." The forest was oh so still. "You are mine." he said again.
Your lips parted with your heart slamming in your chest. "IㅡI.."
"From the first breath you drew, you were marked. I have circled this place for years, waiting, cursing the gods who made it so I could not touch you, love you.. But no longer."
"You waited for me?"
"I hunted, I killed, I endured. But I did not take a mate. You were mine. Always. Even when you were too small to know, I knew. I could not choose another."
"Then why now?"
"Because they would have bound you to another. Stolen you from me. And I will tear apart the world before I allow that." The ferocity of his tone should have frightened you, really. Instead, you felt the heat pooling in your lower belly. His hand drifted to your throat, just to feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers.
"You are mine." he said yet again. "Mine, as the moon is to the night. Do you accept it? Do you accept me, wolf and man alike?" The forest leaned closer, the wind curling around your gown, whispering and urging you on.
"I do." you blinked up at him though heavy lashes. "I accept you."
His eyes softened, though his grip did not. He leaned his forehead against yours, breath hot against your puffy lips.
"I am yours." you managed.
"And I am yours." he spoke against your skin.
His nose brushed the line of your jaw, a low growl vibrating in his chest. "With those words, you bind me as surely as the moon binds the tide. There is no undoing it, no escape from me now."
"I do not want to escape.." you confessed.
Moonlight slipped between the branches, painting silver over your bloodied gown, over his torn shirt, over the curve of his throat as it moved when he swallowed. He was gorgeous and you were completely bewitched.
He drew back just enough to look at you, his hand still cradling your jaw. "You are trembling." his voice was low. "Is it from fear or want?"
Your lips parted, no answer rising.
A slow smile curved his mouth. His thumb brushed over your cheek. "You shake like a doe cornered in the grass, as the ones you found years ago." he spoke, voice almost like laughter. "But I see the truth in your eyes. It is not fear that has you weak, little fawn."
His other hand slid to the nape of your neck, tilting your face up to him. "Tell me." he said softer now "What is it you want of me?"
Heat surged in your face, your throat tightening. Words gathered, then scattered before they could leave your lips. You looked away.
His hand at your neck tightened just enough to make you gasp "No." He tuts. "Do not hide from me." he said. "Not you, not now. Speak it."
"I—" your breath faltered. His eyes bore into you, demanding, waiting. Shame clawed at you, but beneath it was something far hotter, an ache that made your knees want to give up. "I don’t know what I— what I feel."
He leaned closer, his mouth grazing your temple. "Then I shall tell you. You feel hunger. Need. You want me to put my hands upon you. To make you mine in truth." His lips brushed your ear. "Say it."
"I wㅡant you." you stuttered.
"Again." His voice was firm.
"I want you." stronger this time, though your face was brighter than apples.
His own restraint was fraying. "Good girl."
His hand slid from your jaw, down the column of your throat, over the swell of your breast, pausing as to feel the way you shivered. His mouth was still at your ear, breath ragged, his words sinking deeper than a dagger.
"I will guard you." thumb brushing the edge of your collarbone. "No man will lay claim to you again. No vows but mine, no chains but the ones you choose.."
Your lips parted, your body leaning into his without thought. His palm flattened over your chest, right where your heart thundered.
"You will run where you please, little fawn. The hills, the streams—" His voice deepened almost breaking as his hand swept lower, over the folds of your dress, gathering the fabric in his fist, the buttons giving out. "You will laugh, and breathe, and never bow again."
Your knees buckled, a gasp tearing out of you as his fingers brushed your thigh.
"You hear me?" His voice was demanding, though his lips ghosted tenderly along your neck and shoulder. "You are mine, and I will see you free."
His hands roamed slowly, memorizing every curve of your body that had been hidden from the world all this while. "My beautiful little fawn. " his voice was fire. "You belong to no one but me."
"I.. I've never—" your voice wavered "I've never been with anyone.. like this."
"I know." he breathed, thumb stroking along your waist. "I've waited a long time to show you."
His hands pressed you tighter to him, but his eyes softened as he saw the way you clung to him desperately. "Do you trust me, little fawn?"
You nodded weakly, unable to speak. "You should. You are mine and I would die a thousand deaths before letting a single hair on your head be touched.”
His hands moved, teasing, grazing over places that had never known attention, and your body flinched and arched into it all at once.
"I will show you, little fawn. I will show you what it means to be cherished and wanted and protected...”
He takes your hand into his rugged palm, pressing it onto the hardened form in his pants. You were new to this, yes, yet you knew what that meant.
"Do you feel it? How much I’ve waited for this? For you?" You moan without reason, all shy and teary eyed.
In mere seconds, your dress was completely off, ripped into rags by his strong hands. You were flush against a tree, flowers wet of rain dancing at your bare feet. Though the wind blew, your body was hot all over, this strange, new feeling leaving you wanting more.
"I do not wish to scare you away." He finally speaks again, his pants coming undone and slipping past his knees. "You need to understand there is nothing human about what is about to happen."
You nod, though you can feel your toes curling into dirt. You look down and saying you were shocked would be an understatement. He was utterly enormous, tip red and angry, base bulbous, pulsing. Is this what all men carried in their trousers? Ah, wait, but he was no man.
Your shy eyes meet his again and he smiles. "Do not fear. It may hurt at first but then, I promise, it will feel just as heaven."
Rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his face stays flush against your tender chest. He was ready to devour you. The wolf man looked up into your eyes, and all of the things you felt this instant caused your fears to melt away, just as you had in his embrace.
Gently, he laid you down onto the flowers below, the wet petals cold against your burning skin.
You looked like something out of a dream, skin glowing in the moonlight, hands covering your breasts, legs barely closed. Your pretty eyes searched, long lashes clumped with tears and dry blood. You looked unreal. Erotic. And all his.
"Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obeyed. Spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and the wolf man throws his head back with a low groan.
He kneels in front of you on the earth, pulling you so that your thighs are right over his, your puffy lips now on full display. Two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.
After that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. "My gorgeous." You whimpered softly and he shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plush thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers slowly inside, and you can immediately feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. The second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping, moving them in and out as his lips made contact with your swollen bud, lapping up at the nectar of you. So sweet, the wait was worth it. Your eyes stay wide open as this new feeling washes over you, and you can't help but be ashamed as you let out sounds you didn’t know you could make. He hums against your sopping cunt, eating as if he starved for years while his fingers kept moving faster, faster.
You mewl and writhe before it all comes to an agonizing stop. He pulls his fingers out, looking straight down at you. Keeping eye contact, he licks them and you're sat there, mouth agape. Before you can protest he shoves those same two fingers into your waiting mouth, his other hand now fondling one of your breasts.
"Such beauty, I could only dream of it. Thank you for letting me have you this way, eternally."
You hum around his digits, trying to pull him closer by his waist. He smiles, squishing your face with the sleek fingers he had in your mouth seconds ago. "Impatient girl." Your muffled whimpers only seem to please him.
His broad hand presses flat to your stomach, sliding lower until he’s teasing the entrance of your flower with his leaking tip.
He smirks at the dazed parting of your mouth, the flush creeping down your chest.
The hand at your breast squeezes once rough, before sliding down to hook your thigh high around his hip. You stumble, caught only by the sheer size of him pressing you into the tree behind you.
"Look at you." he breathes, eyes roaming. "Shaking for me, and I’ve barely even started.."
His cock drags heavy against your thigh, hot and insistent. He groans low at the contact, the sound beastly.
"I’ll split you open on this cock, little fawn.." he growls, lips brushing your pebbled nipple. "Fill you so deep you’ll never forget what it feels like. Every time you walk, every time you breathe, you will remember tonight."
His length slid against your soaked folds, teasing and pressing against them but not entering. Your breath hitched, thighs trembling as you tried to buck closer. He only chuckled holding you pinned with maddening patience. This is the cruelest you've seen him so far, you thought.
"Oh.." Your nails dug into his shoulders with useless resistance. "Pleaseㅡ" you whispered.
"Please what?" He tilted his head, grinding the thick head of his cock against you, just enough to make you cry out. "Say it, little fawn."
Your cheeks burned, your voice cracked. "Please, inside! Iㅡ I need you inside of me!"
"Do you want my seed inside of you?" His words were sharp. "Do you want to be bred full of my pups, so everyone in that wretched village knows who you belong to?"
Shame and heat tangled in your chest, and you sobbed. Your legs wrapped tighter around him.
"Yes!" you gasped, frantic tears streaking your face. "Yes, please, I want itㅡ I want your pups."
Thats all he had to hear. He thrust, hard, splitting you wide, dragging a cry of pain from your lips. He tries to kiss your tears away, whispering soft sorrys as he lets you adjust, but he can hold himself back so long while you squeeze so deliciously around him. "My, my, what greedy cunt you have, pretty.. Don't worry, I'll take care of it."
He moved a bit shallow at first, ragged control making his body shake. But soon the beast broke loose.
Each thrust was forcing a whimper from your throat. Your legs were now up on his broad shoulders. "TㅡToo much!" you gasped though your legs locked tighter around him, keeping him there.
His hips slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt, the sound of flesh on flesh ringing sharp in the night. "Oh, g-god.." You clawed at him, overwhelmed. "I am your only god, l-little fawn." You could feel him in your stomach, the sheer size of him forming a small mound in your belly.
My what hunger.
"No. Not enough." he growled, breath hot against your ankles. "I’ll give you every drop. You’ll take it— you’ll take all of me, yes?"
He bit down on your shoulder, hard enough to break skin and enough to leave a mark. His pace turned brutal, unrelenting, like he was carving his claim into your very bones.
Yet even as your cries broke in his ear, he murmured "I’m sorry, my sweet."
Your body gave in before your mind could catch up, heat sparking low in your belly, your cries changing into something else entirely.
You didn’t even realize you were begging until the words spilled out shameless. "Please— Oh, don’t stop, don’t stop!"
He wasn't going to stop. Not anytime soon at least.
Each thrust was a strike of thunder, his hips slamming into you until the bark of the tree dug into your back leaving bloody marks.Your nails scored red trails across his shoulders, pleas spilling broken from your lips between sobs and moans you could no longer tell apart.
His breath came ragged, harsh growls rasping from his throat with every plunge. He pressed his forehead to yours, sweat and blood mixing where your skin met.
"You feel it, don’t you? How tight you are— how you take me? You were made for me, look, look how you are swallowing me whole."
He bit down on the tender place beneath your ear, pulling another moan from you as his hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.
"I’ll fill you" he swore, voice breaking rough and desperate. "I’ll put my pups inside you, make you heavy with me." He grunts.
Fluster burned your cheeks even as you nodded wildly. "Yes—yes, please, I want it, oh, I want you to!"
His rhythm faltered, hips grinding harder, deeper, drilling into you with no mercy. "Oh, my brave, brave girl.." The wolf huffs.
The sounds tearing from his chest were no longer words, only ragged growls. You felt him swell inside you, thicker, stretching you wider than before.
"WhㅡWhat is happening?" your voice broke with panic, unsure if what you were feeling was right. He buried his face against your neck, teeth grazing your skin where he had bit it earlier.
"Don’t fight it. You’re mine now. All of you. I will keep you filled until it takes."
The pressure inside you built unbearably. You whimpered, pussy clenching around him. With a few more moves of his hips he came undone. his knot swelled fully, locking you to him, stretching you open around the thickest part of him. Pain lanced through your body until were crying out with each frantic jerk of his hips.
"Ah—don’t, I—" Your protest dissolved into a sob as his hand cupped the back of your head, forcing your gaze into his large eyes.
"Yes." he growled, forehead pressing hard against yours. "Take it! Take me, carry me!"
The knot throbbed inside you, his release flooding deep, searing heat that wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.
"Mine. My little fawn. You’ll never escape me now. This.. Oh, you are my gift of the moon.."
The world was still. Just the two of you tangled together beneath the watchful moon. you felt so full it was almost unbearable, yet your body no longer fought him.
He started brushing the tangled hair from your face with one palm, the other smoothing across the curve of your back where your skin was scratched.
"You did so well. My brave fawn."
Tears stung your eyes, but he kissed them away, mouth gentle now, where as moments before it had been so wild and beastly.
"I’ll never let you go." he pressed another kiss on your swollen lips. "The forests, the rivers, the hills.. they’re yours, all yours. And I’ll guard them. I’ll guard you. Always."
"Stay? Please..stay with me."
His smile was small almost boyish, and so full of warmth it undid you more than his savagery ever could.
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