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jungwnies · 1 month ago

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TIKTOK TREND WITH YOUR F1 BOYFRIEND | "suspect...."

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : "suspect..." trend

୨ৎ : genre : humor ୨ৎ : tws : teasing ୨ৎ : word count : 2344

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : race weekend !!

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max had just finished dinner, comfortably tangled up on the couch, your legs draped over his lap. you were scrolling through tiktok, barely paying attention, until a trend made you grin. a couple was chasing each other, shouting their most embarrassing secrets. you nudged max, holding up your phone.

"this feels very us," you teased.

he glanced at the screen, smirking. "you just wanna air my dirty laundry, huh?"

"and yours is so juicy," you shot back. "come on, let's do it."

outside under the porch light, you hit record. the night air was crisp, but max was already loosening up, stretching like he was about to hit the track. "i'll go first," you announced, and before you could blink, max bolted.

"suspect has lucky race underwear and acts like it's the end of the world if they're missing!" you yelled, chasing after him.

he whipped around, laughing so hard he nearly tripped. "okay, rude! that's classified intel."

you handed him the phone as you jogged ahead. "your turn."

max didn't hesitate. "suspect raids the pantry at 3 a.m. like a gremlin and blames it on 'sleepwalking.'"

"i do sleepwalk!" you gasped, laughing as he sprinted closer.

you grabbed the phone back, turning the camera on him. "suspect sings way too passionately to abba in the shower and denies it when I catch him."

max froze mid-step, glaring playfully. "low blow." then, with a grin, he snatched the phone and chased you down the driveway.

"suspect still sleeps with a stuffed panda named mr. wuffles—and argues with him like he's real."

you shrieked, lunging for the camera, tackling max to the ground. the two of you collapsed in a heap of laughter, the phone still recording as you tried to catch your breath.

"mr. wuffles doesn't deserve this slander," you mumbled into his shoulder.

max grinned, brushing hair out of your face. "neither do my lucky boxers."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you and lewis were lounging by the pool under a canopy of string lights, the cool night breeze carrying the soft ripple of water. roscoe was stretched out on a lounge chair, his head resting on a cushion like he owned the place. lewis was reclined next to you, scrolling through his phone, his fingers absently drumming to the beat of the music playing from a nearby speaker.

you were curled up with your phone, scrolling through tiktok when a trend made you snort—a couple chasing each other, shouting out each other’s most embarrassing quirks. you nudged lewis, holding the screen up for him to see.

“this feels like something you’d absolutely crush me at,” you said, laughing.

he glanced over, his lips curving into that playful smile that made your stomach flip. “oh, no doubt. but do you really wanna go there?”

you grinned, hopping off the lounge chair. “game on.”

lewis chuckled, setting his phone down and standing up, stretching like he was warming up for a race. roscoe gave a sleepy glance but didn’t move.

“ladies first,” lewis said, gesturing dramatically.

you hit record, backing away as he smirked. “suspect can’t go two days without FaceTiming roscoe when he’s away, and yes, he gives him motivational speeches.”

lewis burst into laughter, jogging after you. “don’t call me out like that—roscoe’s a star athlete in his own right!” he grabbed the camera and started walking backward. “alright, my turn.”

you crossed your arms, pretending to look unfazed as he started recording. “suspect spends more time perfecting their smoothie recipes than I spend in the gym. and they still taste like fruit soup.”

you gasped, laughing as you chased him across the patio. “they’re healthy! and delicious!”

“sure, chef,” he teased, holding the camera high above your head.

you managed to snatch it back, breathless. “suspect has an alarm on his phone labeled ‘manifest greatness,’ and I caught him chanting along to it last week.”

lewis stopped, doubling over in laughter. “okay, first of all, it works!” he protested, grabbing the camera back. “but suspect won’t admit they cried during a kids movie last weekend.”

“it was Marley & Me! what do you want from me?!” you shrieked, laughing so hard you stumbled.

roscoe finally lifted his head, giving you both a look of mild disapproval before going back to sleep. the two of you collapsed on the pool deck, gasping for air as the camera captured your laughter under the lights.

ʚ・george russell

you and george were out in the garden under the string lights, leaning against the picnic table as the evening settled in. you were scrolling through tiktok when a video of a couple exposing each other’s quirks made you laugh.

“think you could handle this?” you asked, showing george.

he smirked. “you’re playing a dangerous game.”

you hit record and stepped back. “suspect triple-checks his hair in every mirror before leaving the house, even for groceries.”

george laughed, jogging after you. “it’s called standards,” he countered, grabbing the phone. “suspect once demanded a rematch at mini golf because the wind was ‘unfair.’”

“it was!” you protested, chasing him.

snatching the phone back, you grinned. “suspect listens to dramatic orchestra scores like they’re in a movie montage.”

he groaned, laughing. “oh hush! suspect talks in their sleep about ordering pizza and existential philosophy.”

you gasped, collapsing onto the bench in laughter as george sat beside you, flipping the camera toward you both.

“lesson learned?” he teased.

“you’re obsessive,” you said.

“and you’re chaos,” he shot back with a grin.

“and yet, it works,” you replied, leaning into him as he ended the video.

ʚ・carlos sainz

you and carlos had just finished a game of tennis in the backyard, both of you sweating and laughing as you collapsed onto the grass. the sky was fading into a deep blue, the evening still warm. carlos tossed his racket aside, stretching with a satisfied groan, while you grabbed your water bottle.

“you know, i think i’ve got you beat this time,” you said, grinning between sips.

“you wish, mi amor,” carlos laughed, shaking his head. “i let you win on purpose. i’m a gentleman.”

“uh-huh, sure, whatever helps you sleep at night,” you teased.

you pulled out your phone, noticing a trend on tiktok—a couple running around, calling out each other’s quirks. you nudged him, showing him the video.

“come on, let’s do it. i bet you’ve got some embarrassing stuff to share,” you said.

“oh, i’m sure you’ve got more embarrassing things than me,” he grinned. “alright, let’s do it. i’m ready.”

you hit record, stepping back with a playful smirk. “suspect uses way too many spices when cooking and ends up burning half the meal every time.”

carlos laughed, raising his hands in defense. “hey, a little smoky flavor never hurt anyone!” he grabbed the phone and pointed it at you. “suspect always loses their keys and blames it on me, even when i’m nowhere near them.”

“because you always steal them!” you shot back, chasing him around the yard.

he stopped, turning to face you. “suspect watches motivational videos, then complains about doing chores two minutes later,” he teased, laughing.

you gasped, nearly dropping the phone. “i’m just… i’m saving my energy for the important stuff!”

carlos smirked, taking the phone back. “suspect can’t make it through a single movie without falling asleep halfway through. i’ve seen it!”

“i’m relaxing, okay?” you said, laughing as you tried to catch up with him.

carlos finally collapsed next to you on the grass, both of you laughing, as he turned the camera toward you both.

“well, that was fun, amor,” he said, grinning.

“you’re a menace,” you teased.

“and you love me for it,” he replied with a wink, before ending the video.

ʚ・charles leclerc

you and charles were in the kitchen, the scent of fresh-baked cookies filling the air as you waited for them to finish baking. with the oven timer ticking down, you two decided to kill time. charles was leaning against the doorframe of the hallway, his dog leo sprawled out on the floor at his feet, looking up at you both with a relaxed expression.

“okay, so what should we do while we wait, mon chéri?” charles asked, his gaze playful. “i’m not just gonna stand here, you know.”

you grinned, glancing around the hallway. “well, we could always play that tiktok game i showed you last week. i bet you’ve got some embarrassing habits i can call out.”

charles raised an eyebrow, glancing at leo, who was lazily licking his paws. “you think i’m embarrassed by anything?”

“oh, definitely,” you teased, pulling out your phone. “you’ve got some quirks.”

“alright, fine,” he grinned, crossing his arms. “let’s do it, but no making fun of me too much, mon amour.” he tells you kissing the top of your head before you both make your way to the hallway.

you hit record, stepping back with a smirk. “suspect has a very specific routine for his coffee, and gets very upset if it’s made wrong.”

charles laughed, shaking his head. “that’s not a secret, amour. i like my coffee just right, nothing wrong with that.” he grabbed the phone and pointed it at you. “suspect spends way too much time scrolling through food videos but never actually cooks anything.”

“hey!” you protested, laughing. “i get inspiration!”

“ah, i know you too well,” he teased. “suspect also insists on getting up in the middle of the night for snacks, but never remembers what they actually wanted.”

“i don’t even want to hear it,” you shot back. “suspect can’t even make it through a day without getting at least five different snacks. i’ve seen it with my own eyes!”

“hey, i’m a growing boy,” charles grinned. “i need my fuel. you, on the other hand… suspect has to try to make food, but ends up burning everything and then calling me to save you.”

“sure, sure,” you teased. “suspect also has to ask for everyones opinion before making a decision about anything.”

“it’s called being thorough,” he grinned.

“right, thorough,” you laughed. “suspect spends way too long staring at himself in the mirror after a race, making sure everything’s perfect for the cameras.”

charles laughed, shaking his head. “okay, that’s fair. but you talk to leo like he’s a person, and i swear, he knows all your secrets.”

“leo’s my best friend!” you protested, laughing.

“and he knows you better than you know yourself,” charles teased.

“oh, don’t even!” you laughed. you lunged for the phone, laughing, but charles held it just out of reach.

“oh no, i’m not done with you yet,” you teased, but charles just grinned, lowering the camera as leo wagged his tail.

“well, that was fun,” charles said, still grinning as he scratched leo behind the ears.

“you’re impossible,” you teased, nudging him.

“and you love me for it, mon chéri,” he replied with a wink, turning off the camera.

ʚ・lando norris

you and lando had just finished messing around on his sim, and now you were sitting on the floor of the hallway, sharing a bowl of popcorn. the soft glow of the hallway light made the moment feel cozy, but lando, being lando, was already up to something.

“have you seen this?” he asked, holding up his phone to show you a tiktok of people calling out their partners' embarrassing habits. his grin was wide, already plotting.

“don’t even think about it,” you warned, narrowing your eyes.

“too late,” he said, opening the app and hitting record. “alright, suspect loves to smack talk during karting, but can’t stop spinning out when things get competitive.”

“you’re so full of it!” you laughed, grabbing the phone. “suspect sets five alarms every morning and still manages to be late.”

lando gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. “i’m just not a morning person, alright?”

“and yet, you have no problem staying up all night playing video games,” you shot back, aiming the phone at him again.

“because i’m a gamer,” he grinned, grabbing the phone back. “suspect refuses to admit they’re bad at fifa, even though i’ve beaten you like, ten times in a row.”

“that’s because you cheat! i swear your controller’s rigged!”

“sure, blame the controller,” he teased, flipping the camera to you. “suspect also eats all the snacks during a movie and then pretends they don’t know where they went.”

you gasped. “i get hungry! and you don’t even share your chips properly.”

“because you take the big ones,” lando said, shaking his head. “suspect also hides my hoodies and claims they don’t know where they are.”

you smirked. “they just mysteriously end up in my closet. weird, huh?”

“you’re unbelievable,” he laughed, setting the phone down as you both leaned back against the wall.

“you love it,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

“yeah,” he said, grinning at you. “i do.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you and oscar were out on the back deck, the sun dipping below the horizon as the brownies you’d baked earlier cooled inside. the soft hum of cicadas filled the air, and oscar was stretched out on a lounge chair, tossing a tennis ball up and catching it lazily.

“so, how long until we can eat them?” he asked, tilting his head toward the kitchen window.

“not long,” you replied, scrolling through your phone. then, a tiktok caught your attention—a couple roasting each other’s quirks. you grinned, holding it up to oscar. “wanna try this?”

he sat up, catching the ball one last time. “you’re really inviting chaos, huh? alright, let’s go.”

you hit record and pointed the phone at him. “suspect leaves half-finished cups of tea everywhere and then wonders why we have no clean mugs.”

“because tea gets cold too quick!” oscar said, snatching the phone. “suspect insists they’re an expert at driving but screams every time i take a corner a bit fast.”

“because you drive like it’s the grand prix!” you laughed, taking the phone back. “suspect uses ‘just one more episode’ as an excuse to stay up until 3 a.m.”

“it’s called commitment,” oscar said, smirking as he grabbed the phone again. “suspect pretends to like my playlist but skips my songs when they think i’m not looking.”

“they’re all acoustic covers of 2000s pop songs, oscar!” you protested.

“and they’re brilliant,” he said, aiming the phone at you. “suspect also googles the plot of movies halfway through because they’re too impatient to wait and see what happens.”

“okay, but at least i don’t fake losing at card games to make you feel better,” you shot back, smirking.

oscar gasped dramatically. “i would never!”

you both burst into laughter, leaning against the counter as the timer beeped in the background.

“guess i win,” oscar said smugly, reaching for the phone.

“in your dreams,” you teased, bumping his shoulder.

2K notes · View notes

vantetaes · 24 days ago

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SPRING FLING🫧🥂

COUNTRY BOY! EREN X CITY GIRL BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn goes back to visit what once was her home 15 years ago, only to meet a new face.

WARNINGS!!! 18+!!! high sexual themes! oral (f receiving), penetration, slow burn before smut

a part of you missed it. waking up to the fresh smell of sausage sizzling in hot grease while grits simmered on a burner next to it. feeling the cool summer breeze whip around your sweltering body from playing kickball in the large mowed field with some of the towns kids. drinking freshly squeezed lemonade your grandmother made before tending to her garden.

as the driver slowly approaches your grandparents estate, your heart couldn’t help but to let up a little. the large white house still sat perfectly on their plot of land.

“yn, sweetheart!” the houses screen door flys open with a screech. your grandmother dressed in a flowing white dress, tan beach hat, arm decorated with small gold bangles and her wedding band catching rays of sun.

the driver places his car in park, opening his door to retrieve your suitcase from the trunk. hopping out of the yellow vehicle, the older lady meets you halfway. wrinkled hands caressing your face, she smiles.

“it’s been too long. you’re all grown up on us!”

before anything could leave your lips, a grunt comes from around the bend of the house. your grandfather, covered in motor oil and dirt caked overalls. he removes his gloves, walking towards you and his wife, smile reaching his ears.

“ah i would hug ya honey but im dirtier than the pigs!”

your grandparents liked the life they lived away from the city. the way they could sit on the wrap around porch, grandfather sipping a beer and grandmother some lemonade, their towns newspaper tucked in their palms. watching as the sun ducked their bright red barn, casting a golden glow over the crops and animals grazing on the lush landscape. the stars peeking through transparent clouds, moon creating its atmosphere in the sky.

your grandmother enjoyed picking fresh fruits from her orchard, baking pies and making jams with the delectable fruits. your grandfather loved the lake that sat on the other side of the large property. growing up you’d grown to love these things about them.

as for yourself? you wouldn’t be caught dead doing half the things they do.

your career path led you to pharmaceutical consulting. working for one of the biggest companies in the world. it wasn’t something you enjoyed, but it funded the life you wanted.

living in a penthouse, well off from the city below you. the work was intense, demanding, and you needed to stay on top of it. anyone is replaceable in jobs such as those.

which is why you put in every single pto hour you had into a month long vacation.

to the middle of nowhere.

the wheels of the suitcase clank against the wooden stairs as your grandfather lugs it up the flight. following behind the older lady, excitement bubbles out of your grandmother while she quickens her pace, rushing to the door at the end of the hallway.

when she pushes the door open, it gives way easily, the hinges murmuring softly. the air that greets you is faintly cool, laced with the sweet scent of spring. someone had left the large french windows cracked open, the lace curtains drifting in slow, ghostly ripples.

“just like you left it, darlin’!” the lady says cheerfully.

stepping in feels like stepping back into a memory too fragile to hold in your hands. the room is pale, almost dreamlike. soft white walls, still wearing faint shadows of posters long torn away, frame the space. A canopy bed sits against the far wall, its sheer, pastel pink and ivory drapes spilling down like delicate water, pooled at the floor as if waiting for someone to step through them. the bed itself is made, layered with quilts of faint creams and frilly edges, whispering of afternoons spent sprawled on its surface with a book or diary.

“mary anne, we gotta get back to town to pick up some more feed for the chickens! ‘for the sun go down! i ain’t got my glasses either.” after placing your suitcase inside the threshold, your grandfather gives the back of your head a slight hold before placing a small kiss to the top.

“okay! okay! you ain’t gotta rush, clyde!” the two eventually leave you alone to unpack and do as you need.

to the right, a dresser waits, its porcelain knobs cool and familiar, though you can see chips where small hands must have struck too hard, too often. a vintage vanity mirrors the scene beside it, its surface cluttered with an array of glass perfume bottles, now dulled with dust. the mirror above has started to haze, its edges flecked with age, but you can still catch glimpses of yourself. a cushioned stool still sits beneath, its ruffled seat faded and threadbare.

the light here is alive. golden and warm, it pours through the cracked windows, catching on floating dust motes that swirl like restless fireflies. outside, unseen branches scratch faintly against the frame, their new leaves brushing with the weightlessness of spring. the breeze curls in through the cracks, carrying the faintest hints of magnolia and freshly turned earth, slipping beneath the canopy and rustling the skirts of the curtains.

there’s a rug in the center of the room, its edges frayed, and around it—near bookshelves that haven’t been touched in years—small details stand out like relics: a porcelain music box with its lid still half-open, a stuffed rabbit missing one eye perched on the window seat. all of it feels caught in a quiet kind of waiting.

your footsteps are softened by the wooden floor beneath, the boards groaning faintly under your weight. you look around and inhale deeply. it smells faintly of lavender, of clean linens, freshly cut grass, and mahogany wood.

the hot water washes away the weight of the morning and plane rides, the steam curling in soft, misty clouds that cling to the glass. you stand under the spray longer than you need to, letting it loosen muscles you hadn’t realized were tight, letting it strip the last remnants of dust from your skin. when you finally step out, the room feels cooler, the steam clinging to the mirror and walls in beads of condensation.

lathing your body in cocoa butter and applying a fair amount of lip balm.

you pull on something simple: a soft white tank top and a pair of loose cerulean cotton shorts, light enough to let the sun find your skin. carefully pulling your shower cap off, the water droplets falling down to your shoulders, running off your moisturized skin. you grab a new bottle of sunscreen from your spwarled out suitcase, the book ‘if cats disappeared from the world’, and your black chanel sunglasses.

as you make your way barefoot down the creaking staircase, everything tucked in between your arm. the house warm and bright in a way that feels both lived-in and empty. you’re halfway to the back porch when the front door swings open, and your grandparents call for your attention.

“hey, hold up a minute-” your grandfather says, pausing just inside the doorway, his hat in one hand and the keys to the truck jangling in the other. Your grandmother lingers behind him, hands resting on her hips, her face soft but serious.

“-we’re headed into town for a bit.” she says. “need some supplies for the farm and a few other things.”

you nod, shifting your weight onto one foot as you glance toward the back porch, toward the promise of sun and quiet.

“‘fore you run off-” your grandfather adds, pulling the hat onto his head.

“one of the town boys is ‘posed to be stoppin’ by. hes gone take a look at the barn, see about fixin’ up some of the beams we been neglectin’.”

“you’ll know him when you see him.” she says, a touch warily.

“so just keep an eye out. he’s probably fine, but you know how folks can be.”

something about their tone. half warning, half habit. makes you bristle. you know how quickly people judge someone based on a name, a family, a shadow cast long before them.

“all right.” you say lightly, hoping to end the conversation before it becomes something heavier.

“i’ll be outside if he shows up.”

your grandmother nods, giving you one last lingering look, and then they’re gone—boots on the porch steps, the truck’s engine growling to life and disappearing down the road. you linger by the door for a moment, watching the dust settle in the empty yard. the house feels quieter now, a little too still.

when you turn toward the back porch, the sunlight calls to you again, warm and golden, a balm for whatever comes next.

the back door opens swiftly, letting in gusts of spring air to sweep across the floors. trudging through the plains of grass tickling your thighs, you find yourself at the small floating pond your grandfather built. it sat in front of the large red barn, creating a scene of what farm living actually is.

the pond is fairly quiet, except for the hum of cicadas and the faint lapping of water against its banks. the cows deep moo a little in the distance. the sun hangs high, drenching everything in gold, and the heat wraps around you like a second skin.

you’re stretched out on a reclined lawn chair, a thin towel draped beneath you to catch the sweat. your sunglasses shield your eyes, and a book rests open in your hands, though the words blur a little under the laziness of the afternoon. a half eaten sandwich and a glass of fresh strawberry lemonade sweats beside you, the condensation leaving rings of water on the tiny wooden table. it’s sweet and cold against your tongue, a small relief in the heaviness of the heat.

your top is flung casually over the back of the chair, leaving you in a white bathing suit, comfortable and unbothered as you let the sun soak into your skin. the soft breeze off the water kisses your shoulders every now and then, rustling the pages of your book.

it isn’t until the sharp, uneven sound of boots on gravel carries over the quiet that you lift your sunglasses, brow pinching.

at first, you only catch a shadow moving toward you from the far side of the reservoir. someone tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly not your grandparents.

“hey!” the voice calls, deep but rough, like he hasn’t spoken much today.

you sit up a little straighter, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you look him over. he’s closer now, close enough for you to see the sharp lines of his face, the way dark hair falls a little too messily over his forehead. he’s wearing a plain t-shirt, worn jeans stained at the knees, and scuffed boots that kick up small puffs of dirt as he moves. there’s a toolbox in his hand, which he sets down carelessly at his feet.

“you’re, uh…-” he trails off, scanning you quickly before looking away, his jaw tight. he was issued to seeing old people on this property. but you were a sight for sore eyes. he couldn’t help but fixate his green eyes back onto you. watching as the beads of condensation dripped from the glass to your exposed cleavage, sliding down between your moisturized boobs. that were too big for the swim top your sported. his eyes fed off the way your e/c* eyes shined in the light under the black shields, lips glistening under the rays.

“im here for the barn. your grandparents said someone would be around.” his words are tight and frigid.

you blink, caught between annoyance and curiosity.

“yeah, they mentioned you.” you let your sunglasses slide back into place, leaning back in the chair as if his presence hasn’t disrupted anything.

“didn’t realize you’d be here so soon.”

“you’re welcome.” he mutters, a hint of sarcasm threading through the words as he squats to grab the toolbox.

you raise a brow, bristling.

“didn’t say i was thanking you.”

that makes him pause, glancing up through his lashes like he can’t decide whether to be amused or annoyed. a scoff releases from his lips.

“you sure are a real warm welcome, huh? and you’re reading a book about.. cats?”

“and you’re a little grumpy for someone who just got here. not that it’s any of your concern, i prefer cats over mutts.”

he huffs out a breath, maybe a laugh, but it’s hard to tell, and shakes his head, muttering something you can’t quite hear. you watch as he straightens up again, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead as if to dismiss you entirely.

“look, i’ll stay outta your way. just here to fix the barn, ma’am.” he says, nodding toward the distant structure.

“you can go back to… whatever this is.” his gaze flickers briefly over your lemonade, the book, your sprawled-out figure in the sun, before he turns on his heel and starts walking toward the barn.

you glare after him, irritation bubbling to the surface. the nerve of him, showing up out of nowhere with a chip on his shoulder like you’re the one invading his day.

“you’re welcome.” you call after him pointedly, though he doesn’t stop, just throws a hand up in a half-hearted wave of dismissal.

the barn door groans open in the distance, and you sink back into your chair with a huff, flipping your book shut. for the first time all day, the quiet doesn’t feel so peaceful anymore.

he had been long gone by the time your grandparents arrived back at the house. watching the sun set on the horizon out of the kitchen windows, casting a warm orange and pink hue to the house. you couldn’t help but to think about how strange of an interaction that was today.

“some’ wrong, darlin’?” your grandfather asks, pulling apart a small peice of his dinner roll, slipping it into his mouth.

“nothing papa. just tired i think. not really used to the time difference again.”

the kitchen smells like sugar, butter, and lemon zest. thick and warm in the morning light streaming through the windows. you stand beside your grandmother at the granite counter, your hands dusted in flour as you work a soft, pliable ball of dough, rolling it carefully under her watchful gaze. the little puffs of flour catch the light as they float lazily to the counter, turning the morning into something hazy and dreamlike. outside, the morning doves are already humming, and the breeze carries the faintest whiff of honeysuckle through the cracked window above the sink.

“not too thin now, dear.” your grandmother says gently, leaning over to inspect your work. her hair is pinned back neatly, and there’s a streak of flour on her cheek that she hasn’t noticed.

“these tarts need some structure, or they’ll fall apart ‘fore they make it to the church. we can’t have a lock in with no tarts, honey.”

“yes, ma’am.” you mutter, suppressing a small smile as you focus on the dough, guiding it into perfect little circles for the tart shells.

the table is cluttered with bowls and ingredients. deep red raspberries, bright and glistening, piled in a pale ceramic dish; a glass juicer with lemon pulp still clinging to its grooves; a small jar of sugar, the lid left slightly askew. your grandmother moves around the kitchen like she always has. calm, methodical, humming a hymn under her breath as she fills the air with the scent of baking pastry. you help her spoon the tart mixture into the shells, carefully pressing a few raspberries into each before she slides them into the oven, her hands covered in oven mitts patterned with sunflowers.

while the tarts bake, she chats softly about who will be at the church service, about old friends and new faces, her voice lilting as if trying to bridge the years that you’ve been gone. it’s comforting, her easy way of speaking, and you let it wash over you as you wipe down the counters, the scent of caramelizing sugar growing richer by the minute.

“i really appreciate your help this mornin’.” her sweet voice fills the silence.

your grandfather appears in the doorway just as you’re checking the tarts, a small grin tucked beneath his mustache. hes holding a set of keys. old, scratched, and gleaming faintly in his calloused hand.

“got something for ya.” he says, the words light but carrying a weight that makes you stop mid-step.

your grandmother glances over her shoulder, smiling softly as if she’s been expecting this.

“go on, now. see what he’s got.”

you follow your grandfather outside, the morning sun already high and hot, the light pooling across the gravel driveway. parked just off to the side of the house is a truck—not new by any stretch of the imagination, but clean, its pale blue paint shining faintly in the sunlight. it’s an older model, rounded and boxy in that classic way, and you can see where he’s spent hours tinkering with it. fresh tires, a polished hood, the faint scent of oil and steel lingering in the air.

“you’re givin’ me this?” you ask, a little breathless.

“sure am.” he replies, pressing the keys into your palm with a nod that’s gruff but affectionate.

“i’ve been workin’ on it a few months now. runs smooth s’ever. figured you might want somethin’ to get around while you’re here.”

the gesture hits you harder than you expect, and you swallow against the sudden warmth building in your chest.

“thank you,” you say softly, running your fingers over the keys before looking back at him.

he pats your shoulder in that firm, no-nonsense way of his.

“you go on, take her for a spin. just don’t let it sit idle too long, y’hear?”

you decide you can’t possibly drive your new truck around town in the same pajama bottoms and rumpled tank top you’ve been in since morning. after a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror in your childhood bedroom, brushing your hair as the sun filters softly through the lace curtains. you choose something easy. a flowy white sundress, the fabric soft against your skin, cinched at the waist, flaring out below. it’s the kind of dress that moves when you walk, catching the breeze and making you feel like youre floating. slipping on tan sandals and grabbing your sunglasses.

sliding into the truck feels surreal, the leather of the driver’s seat warm beneath your legs as you turn the ignition. the engine rumbles to life with a satisfying purr, and you grip the wheel with a grin you can’t quite suppress.

the drive into town is nothing short of idyllic. the windows are rolled down, the warm breeze tugging at your hair and the hem of your dress as you cruise past fields of tall grass and wildflowers. radio crackles softly, static giving way to an old country song you don’t recognize but hum along to anyway. the town comes into view slowly. a handful of streets lined with brick buildings, white picket fences, and storefronts with painted signs. it’s small and familiar, a place where everyone knows everyone, and yet it feels entirely new through your eyes.

you park the truck just off the main street, slipping the keys into your bag before heading toward the square. the town is quiet, but there’s enough movement to remind you that life trickles on here. people chatting on porches, kids weaving through alleys on their bikes, a group of guys sitting on the bed of an old truck parked near the general store.

you don’t notice them at first, too busy taking in the details of the place. but their voices, loud and lazy—drift over as you pass.

“well, well.” one of them drawls, amusement curling through the words.

“ain’t expect to see you all the way out here.”

you glance over sharply, your gaze landing on none other than him. eren jaeger. leaned back against the tailgate of the truck, his arms crossed and a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. his friends exchange looks that border on curious and entertained.

“didn’t expect you to talk to me.” you shoot back without missing a beat, stopping just a few feet away.

eren raises a brow, clearly enjoying this already.

“oh, don’t worry. i’m just surprised you’re not still sunbathing by the pond, princess.”

“princess? it’s yn to you. and all of you.” you repeat, folding your arms across your chest.

“also, big talk for someone who can’t even find full jeans.” your acrylic points to the dirty man-made holes decorating the boys jeans.

that earns you a snort of laughter from one of his friends, but eren just tilts his head slightly, the smirk never faltering.

“guess you’re still mad about yesterday. why you so upset at me, darlin’?”

“mad? please.” you say, rolling your eyes. “nothing even happened.”

“mmh. sure you aren’t.” he says, pushing off the tailgate to stand up fully, his height a little more imposing up close. there’s something sharp about him. his voice, his gaze, but beneath it is something else, something less certain. you get the feeling he’s used to being looked at sideways, just like your grandparents warned you about.

“you always this charming, or is it just for me?” you ask, tipping your chin up slightly. eyes meeting his low green ones.

he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as his friends snicker quietly behind him.

“you’re somethin’ else.” he mutters, more to himself than to you. turning on your heels, you rush to excape the uncomfortable encounter.

“see you around, princess.”

the next day stretches out slow and quiet. the house feels bigger without your grandparents, their absence leaving a stillness that clings to every corner. you’ve taken full advantage of the solitude, padding barefoot through the rooms in an oversized t-shirt and little else. the fabric brushes against your thighs as you move, worn soft with age, like an old friend. the back of the shirt reads something about a fishing derby from a year that predates you, and you’ve rolled the sleeves haphazardly up your shoulders, letting the collar slip wide against your collarbone.

you spend the morning lazing on the couch, your legs sprawled across the cushions as you flip halfheartedly through a book you aren’t really reading. somewhere outside, birds chatter, and the cicadas hum their slow, pulsing chorus.

it’s the kind of day where time feels like it doesn’t exist. you shuffle into the kitchen whenever you’re hungry, toast a bagel you don’t finish, drink lemonade straight from the pitcher, and leave the radio on low just to fill the silence. some soft, crooning voice filters through the speakers, adding to the lazy weight of the afternoon.

you’re perched on the arm of the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, flipping through an old fashion magazine you found tucked in a drawer when the knock comes, sharp and sudden against the door.

it startles you, your head snapping up as the noise echoes through the quiet house. the second knock follows quickly, impatient this time. you glance toward the clock on the wall, but it’s no help, just another reminder that time isn’t real today.

frowning, you slide off the couch, tugging the hem of your t-shirt self-consciously as you head toward the door. the knob feels cool beneath your fingers as you pull it open just far enough to see who it is.

and there he is.

eren, standing on your grandparents’ front porch like he belongs there, though his posture suggests otherwise. hes got one hand braced against the doorframe, his other hooked loosely in the pocket of his jeans. a thin white t-shirt clings to him in the heat, faint smudges of dirt streaked across the fabric like he’s been working outside all day. his dark hair looks even messier than it did before. some tucked into the cowboy hat, other strands falling over his forehead and curling faintly from the humidity.

for a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his gaze catching on your bare legs before he flicks his eyes up to meet yours. his expression shifts, something unreadable dancing just beneath the surface. you realize too late how you must look: hair messy, t-shirt oversized and sliding off your shoulder, a little breathless from having rushed to the door.

“what?” you say finally, crossing your arms over your chest as if that might protect you from the way he’s looking at you.

“nice greeting.” he says dryly, his voice low and a little rough around the edges.

“well, you did show up uninvited.” you shoot back, arching a brow.

“what do you want?”

eren exhales through his nose, almost like he’s amused but trying not to show it.

“your grandparents asked me to stop by. said there’s a busted pipe in the barn and they didn’t want to wait until they got back to fix it.”

you frown, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe.

“and they sent you?”

“clearly.” his lips twitch, the hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“believe it or not, i know how to do more than just piss you off.”

you roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

“well, the barn’s out back. you know where it is. the big. red. building.”

“i do. smartass.” he says, but he doesn’t move, and there’s a spark of something in his eyes. mischief, maybe. that makes you suddenly aware of just how much skin your t-shirt doesn’t cover.

“what?” you ask again, sharper this time.

“nothing.” he shrugs, the movement lazy as he pushes off the doorframe and takes a step back.

“just didn’t peg you for the type to lounge around in your underwear all day. but what do i know? you wore a bikini outside.”

heat flashes across your cheeks instantly, and you grip the edge of the door tighter.

“it’s not underwear, creep. it’s comfortable.”

“sure.” he says, smirk fully formed now as he starts toward the barn, hands tucked into his pockets.

“looks real… comfortable.”

you slam the door before he can say anything else, the wood rattling in the frame.

“asshole.” you mutter under your breath, but your voice is drowned out by the sound of his boots on the gravel, his laughter carrying faintly through the cracked window.

the hum of the radio drifts on, and sunlight still slants through the windows, but something about the space feels restless now. like the air has been disturbed and won’t settle again. you find yourself standing by the door, chewing your lip and staring at nothing in particular.

it’s curiosity, you decide. that’s all it is. you’re just curious about him. about the boy who showed up at your door unannounced, dripping sarcasm like it’s second nature, as though he thrives on pressing your buttons. that’s why, after pacing the kitchen once or twice, you tug on a pair of shoes and head outside.

the barn stands at the back of the property, worn and familiar, its paint faded and roof patched with tin that glints under the afternoon sun. the gravel crunches beneath your feet as you cross the yard, your shadow stretching long ahead of you. you can hear him before you see him. something clattering against metal, followed by a low muttered curse that drifts out through the open barn doors.

you pause just outside, peeking around the corner. eren is crouched low near the base of a wooden post, his toolbox spread out beside him, sleeves shoved up to his elbows. sweat glistens faintly along the line of his neck, dark hair curling slightly against his temple, though he seems too focused on whatever he’s fixing to notice you.

“i hope you don’t talk to the pipes like that.” you say, stepping into the doorway.

eren glances up sharply, his eyes narrowing as soon as he sees you.

“what are you doing in here?”

“just checking on you.” you lean against the frame, arms crossed, the hem of your t-shirt fluttering faintly in the breeze.

“you could be in here stealing, for all I know.”

he snorts, turning back to the pipe.

“yeah, im gonna steal an old tractor and a pile’a hay. that’ll really set me up for life.”

“you’ve got the attitude for it.” you shoot back.

eren doesn’t respond right away, just reaches into his toolbox and pulls out a wrench, testing the pipe with a faint metallic screech. you take the opportunity to wander further into the barn, your bare legs brushing against the dust-speckled air, the smell of earth and old wood thick in your nose.

“don’t distract me.” he mutters after a moment, though there’s no real heat in it.

“distract you from what?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

“you seem like you know what you’re doing.”

“i do.” he replies quickly, then pauses to glance up at you again, that familiar edge of sarcasm tugging at his voice.

“but I don’t need you hovering over me like a supervisor.”

“im not hovering.” you say, wandering toward the ladder that leads up to the loft. You trail your fingers along a beam as you go, the wood rough and splintered beneath your touch.

“im just… observing.”

“observing me.” he corrects, the corner of his mouth twitching.

you shrug, tilting your head to look at him.

“maybe. you’re hard to figure out.”

“well… why are ya tryin’ t’figure me out?” he fires back, turning his full attention to you now. his gaze is sharp, but there’s something behind it. something curious, like he’s trying to pick you apart the same way you’re doing to him.

you hesitate, feeling your face heat up despite yourself.

“im just bored.”

“bored ?” eren repeats, his voice dry.

“well, sorry im not here to entertain you, princess.”

you bristle at the nickname, pushing off the beam to face him fully.

“will you quit calling me that?”

“what?” he says, smirking now. “does it bother you?”

“obviously.”

“good.” he huffs a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he goes back to the pipe, adjusting the wrench with a sharp twist. the muscles in his forearm flex with the movement, beads of sweat dripping from his body.

“you’re insufferable.” you mutter, rolling your eyes as you turn and start to climb the ladder to the loft. the wood creaks faintly under your hands and feet, but you ignore it, needing to put a little distance between you and him.

“where are you going?” he calls from below, sounding more amused than anything.

“away from you!” you shout back, hoisting yourself onto the loft and brushing the dust from your knees. the space is dim, beams of sunlight filtering through the slats in the walls, catching on cobwebs and hay strewn across the floor. you sink down near the edge, letting your legs dangle as you glance back down at him.

“don’t worry. i won’t distract you from all your hard work.”

eren glances up at you with a look that’s half exasperation, half something else. he stands, tossing the wrench back into his toolbox with a faint clatter.

“or you could just gone back in the house. you’re a real piece’a work, you know that?”

“you’re one to talk.” you shoot back, swinging your feet slightly.

“you act like you hate me, but you keep showing up.”

“i don’t hate you and i keep showing up for your folks, not you.” he mutters, scrubbing the back of his hand across his forehead as he looks away.

“you just talk too much.”

“and you’re just cranky.”

he lets out a soft laugh, one that seems to surprise even him. when he looks back at you, his expression is different, though it’s hard to tell in the dappled light of the barn.

“you don’t know anything about me.” he says finally, his voice quieter this time.

you tilt your head, studying the man below you.

“maybe not. but I know you’re not as bad as everyone says you are.”

eren stiffens slightly at that, his jaw ticking as he averts his gaze. for a moment, the only sound is the wind pressing against the barn, rattling the boards, and the distant hum of cicadas.

“you don’t know that either. and what about you, huh? showing’ up outta nowhere. bein’ as bossy as you are?” he says eventually, his tone flat.

“im a pretty good judge of character. and i used to live here. a lot changes in fifteen years.”

he scoffs, but there’s no real bite to it.

“you’re annoying.”

“and yet you’re still here.” you say, letting a smile creep onto your face.

the loft creaks beneath you, but you don’t think much of it at first. it’s old, worn by years of weight and weather, and the barn itself seems to hum with the memory of its age. eren is below, fiddling with his toolbox, muttering curses under his breath as he wrestles with some stubborn pipe or post. you’re perched on the edge of the loft, legs dangling as you watch him, not bothering to hide your smirk.

“you’re taking forever.” you tease, your voice carrying through the barn.

eren pauses, glancing up with an annoyed glare.

“if you think you can do it faster, darlin’ , be my guest.”

“oh, i didn’t say that.” you reply, leaning back with a huff of satisfaction.

“i’m just observing how inefficient you are.”

he mutters something under his breath, shaking his head, and you’re about to push his buttons again when the sharp sound of splintering wood freezes you. the beam beneath you gives a slow, aching groan. erens head shoots up, noticing the lift giving in right where you sat.

you don’t have time to react. the wood cracks loudly, shattering the stillness, and suddenly you’re falling.

it happens in a rush. your stomach lurching, air rushing past you, hands scrambling for anything to grab. you hit something solid but not the ground. the impact knocks the wind out of you, but there are arms around you, holding you tightly.

“jesus christ!” eren’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and alarmed. “are you stupid?”

your brain catches up slowly, heart still slamming against your ribs as you look up to find eren staring down at you. his face is just inches from yours, his arms wrapped firmly around you where he caught you before you could hit the floor.

“i—” you start to say, but the words catch in your throat.

eren lets out a breath, long and shaky, as he lowers you carefully to the barn floor. his hands linger at your sides, steadying you. “are you okay?”

you try to nod, but then you feel it. the sharp, searing pain radiating up your leg. you wince, shifting slightly, and his eyes dart downward.

“you’re hurt.” he says flatly.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, but as soon as you move your leg, the pain worsens. you look down to see a gash along your shin, blood streaking your skin where the wood must have splintered against you.

eren notices immediately.

“shit-” he mutters, reaching for you before you can protest. “don’t move.”

“eren, i’m fine,” you insist, but your voice wavers when you try to put weight on your leg.

“yeah, sure you are,” he shoots back, already scooping you up before you can argue. his arms slide beneath your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly.

“stop squirming, unless you wanna make this worse.”

you freeze, stunned at the way he carries you, like you weigh nothing at all. his face is set, focused, though you swear you can see a flicker of concern beneath the irritation.

“you don’t have to carry me.” you mumble, feeling heat creep up your neck.

he doesn’t look at you. “and what, let you drag yourself back to the house? don’t be stupid. now imma have to fix up the loft.”

the walk back to the house feels longer than usual, the silence stretching between you save for the crunch of his boots against the dirt. you steal glances at him—at the way his brow furrows in concentration, at the way his arms flex slightly beneath your weight. his grip is careful, like he’s afraid of jostling you too much.

“you’re really dramatic, you know.” you say quietly, trying to lighten the mood.

eren snorts, glancing down at you with a raised brow.

“me? you’re the one who decided to fall through the damn barn.”

“it wasn’t a choice.” you mutter, pouting slightly.

“whatever you say, princess.”

he carries you through the front door like it’s nothing, kicking it open with his boot before setting you down gently on the couch. the shift makes you wince, and he notices, crouching beside you immediately.

“last door on the left, under the sink.”

“stay put.” he says, voice low but firm, before disappearing into the bathroom.

you sigh, leaning your head back against the cushions as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind nothing but the dull ache in your leg and the embarrassment settling deep in your chest.

when eren comes back, he’s holding the first aid kit and a damp towel. he drops onto the floor in front of you, his knees brushing the edge of the couch as he sets everything down.

“this might sting.” he warns, wetting the towel before carefully pressing it to your shin.

you hiss through your teeth, nails curling into the couch cushion. “you could be a little gentler, you know.”

“i am being gentle.” he says, though his tone lacks its usual bite. he works quickly, cleaning the blood and dirt from the scrape before carefully dabbing it dry.

you watch him quietly as he unwraps a roll of gauze, his movements surprisingly careful, his expression softer than you’ve seen before.

“you didn’t have to do all this.” you say softly.

eren doesn’t look up, focused on securing the bandage.

“yeah, well. you’re not exactly good at taking care of yourself.”

“is that your way of saying you care?”

he pauses for half a second, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. the look he gives you is unreadable, but there’s something there. something warm.

“just… don’t do anything stupid like that again.” he mutters, his gaze dropping back to the bandage.

you bite back a smile, watching as he finishes and sits back on his heels. his hands linger on your leg for a moment, testing to make sure the gauze is secure before he finally stands.

“thanks.” you say quietly, your voice soft.

eren just shrugs, grabbing the first aid kit and standing to his full height. “don’t mention it.”

you try to mimic his movements, grabbing onto the arm of the couch for support until the pain shoots you right back down. eren wastes no time meeting you at eye level again, frowing a little.

“you need to stay put. stop being so damn hardheaded, yn.”

“finally you use my name.” his eyes burn deep holes into yours, brown chunks of hair framing his face.

“eh. i still like princess.”

he pauses, just for a second, as if he’s considering something. then he turns, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch.

“both are real pretty though.” he mutters, but his voice is quieter now, softer. there’s an edge of something else there, something that’s hard to place.

you feel your heart pick up, and before you can even process the thought, before you can even think to stop him, he’s closing the space between you. his hand comes to rest gently on the side of your face, and then, with surprising tenderness, he leans in. the kiss is slow, hesitant at first. just a brush of lips against yours. but it deepens quickly, and for a moment, it feels like time itself is holding its breath. maybe you were holding your breath. his hand curls around the back of your neck, and you instinctively lean into him, eyes fluttering shut as the warmth of his lips presses against yours, soft and urgent.

the kiss is over almost as soon as it started, and when he pulls back, his face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your skin. his eyes are dark, a little unsure, but there’s something raw there too.

“eren?” you whisper, breathless, unsure of what to say, what to do with the sudden surge of emotions.

he doesn’t speak at first, just looks at you like he’s trying to figure you out. his fingers linger against your skin for a second too long before he pulls away, stepping back.

“um, guess i’ll get going then.” he says, voice low, almost like he’s unsure of himself for the first time.

he basically rushes out the front door, leaving you with a bloody gauze pad wrapped around your shin and a sense of confusion.

the farmer’s market buzzes softly with life. the air smells of ripe peaches and freshly baked bread, and the sunlight filters through the trees, dappled and golden. you weave through the crowd, your basket swinging lightly on your arm, filled with a small loaf of sourdough and a jar of honey. it’s your favorite part of the week, wandering between the stalls, picking out produce and listening to the steady murmur of the townsfolk.

you’ve got a small crumpled list tucked into your hand: oat milk, a jar of honey, maybe some fresh greens, and you’re weaving your way through the market when you spot him. eren. he’s standing with a man you can only assume is his father. the resemblance is impossible to miss: the sharpness of the jawline, the same dark hair, though his father’s is streaked with gray, and the way they both carry themselves. quiet and a little standoffish. they’re posted at a vegetable stand, crates of carrots, onions, and cucumbers spread out before them. eren’s arms are crossed as he listens to something his father says, his brow furrowed like he’s only half paying attention.

something about the way eren glances around, almost restless, makes you hesitate. you watch for a beat longer, tucked slightly behind another booth, debating whether to approach. but then eren looks up, and his gaze lands on you. for a second, he’s still, his face unreadable. then his eyes shift slightly, narrowing, and it almost feels like he’s warning you.

you step forward anyway, hobbling a little on your sore leg.

“eren.” you say, your voice soft but steady. his name feels strangely loud against the background chatter, and both he and his father turn to look at you.

eren’s face tightens slightly, but he doesn’t look away. his father, on the other hand, gives you a long, slow once-over, his sharp green eyes cutting into you with a coolness that makes your chest tighten.

“who’s this?” his father asks, his tone mild but clipped, like the words have edges.

“yn, sir.” you offer quickly, stepping closer and giving him a polite smile.

“i’ve been staying with my grandparents for the spring. i’ve seen eren around, so i thought i’d introduce myself. he helps around a lot.”

you hold out your hand, but his father doesn’t take it. instead, he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the booth’s counter, his gaze steady and unwavering.

“introducing yr’self, huh?” he says, his voice light, almost amused, but there’s something underneath it, something just sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“not many of the town folk bother to stop by our booth, let’lone introduce themselves. guess you must be curious.”

you pull your hand back awkwardly, your smile faltering as you glance at eren.

“i just thought it would be nice, sir. i apologize.” you reply, trying to keep your voice even.

“your vegetables do look great.”

his father lets out a soft huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale.

“yeah, they do, don’t they? we put a lotta work into this land. more than most people around here would know.”

eren shifts beside him, his jaw tightening.

“dad.” he mutters under his breath, but his father doesn’t even glance at him.

“you stayin’ with the wrights?” his father asks, tilting his head slightly.

“figured. they’re good people, always minding their own business. shame not everyone in town does the same.”

you blink, the words settling in your chest like stones. there’s no malice in his tone, not directly, but the weight of them is unmistakable.

eren’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck, his shoulders tense.

“she’s just trying to be nice.” he says, his voice low, almost resigned, like he knows it won’t make a difference.

his father finally straightens, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

“nice is fine-” he says, glancing at you again. “-but not everyone ‘round here is friendly as they seem. might be worth ‘membering.”

the air between you feels tight, uncomfortable, and you’re not entirely sure if his words are meant as advice or something closer to a warning. you force another smile, even though your face feels stiff, and take a small step back.

“well, it was nice meeting you.” you say, your voice a little quieter now.

“i’ll let you both get back to work.”

eren looks at you then, his lips pressing together like he wants to say something but can’t. his father, however, just gives you a small, curt nod.

“have a good day, darlin’.” he says, the words clipped and formal.

you turn quickly, your cheeks burning, and make your way back into the flow of the market. the cheerful voices and warm sunlight feel duller now, muted by the lingering tension.

it’s not until you’ve stopped by another stall, pretending to inspect a bunch of lavender, that you feel eren’s presence beside you. you glance up, and there he is, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his face pulled into a scowl.

“sorry about him.” he mutters, his voice low. “he’s… he’s just like that.”

you shrug, trying to act like it didn’t bother you, though the knot in your stomach hasn’t quite eased.

“it’s fine.” you say softly, but the look he gives you says he doesn’t believe you.

for a moment, neither of you speaks. the market swirls around you, full of life and sound, but between you, there’s only a quiet tension. finally, eren sighs, tilting his head toward the edge of the market.

“come on,” he says. “let’s get out of here.”

you’ve learned to move quietly, to slip through the back door of the house when no one’s looking, to meet him at the edge of the woods by the lake when the sun has set and the stars are just beginning to prick the sky. everything feels like it’s wrapped in silence, soft and secretive. even the air between you seems charged with something unspoken, something thrilling. for two weeks.

he was addictive.

soft whispers under your large quilts as his lips traced kisses from your neck to lips. engulfing you in a warm embrace. wind blowing through the windows he snuck into.

he loved seeing you drive past him casually in your truck while picking up groceries for your grandmother. watching your hair whip in the wind and the low hum of the trucks engine passing by.

when you and him sat in his living room, playing with the golden lab he named ‘scout’ when he was four. your fingers comb through his mane, tilting your face upwards to avoid from being licked by the drooling animal.

whenever your grandparents gave him yet another daunting task around the farm, he’d watch as your sprawled out in a bikini. sipping the sweet tea, beach hat shading your face. watching as the droplets of water dripped down your chest. he’d hate to admit how many times he’s almost nailed his hands to the barn.

“you okay over there?” your arm, half up in a wave, drawling his attention from your new position. you lay on your chest, slowly pulling at the strings holding your top up. letting them dangle off the side of the chair, you slide the waistline of your bottoms down a little.

“eren! why don’t you come have some lemonade with me?”

you were driving him nuts.

he loved how lively you would get after spending the afternoons in a tiny, quaint bar located on the outskirts of town.

the drives back usually consisting of you halfway out the passenger window, eyes gazing up at the sky as you took advantage of the open landscape. eren would watch you intensely, eyes bouncing from the road back to you.

pulling into erens dirty path driveway, he pulls your body across the long front seat, carefully tucking his arms under your knees and around your back.

“im not drunkk!” you whine, face buried into the crook of the man’s neck while he places you down softly on the dark leather couch. closing his front door, his hand runs through his brown locs with an exasperated sigh.

“you need to sober up so i can take you home, yn. i ain’t trynna deal with a angry mob of old church people.” his height blinds out everything in your path as he stands over you. his large hands cup your face gently.

“boy im grown, come here.” you whisper, pulling him down by the forearm, eyes never leaving his. green eye flicker from your eyes to your glossed lips. your essence was like a gravitational pull.

lips locked onto one another, you can’t help but to notice he much softer his lips have gotten.

“you been exfoliating?”

“i’on know what that is, shut up and kiss me.”

it was hungry. borderline filthy the way his hands rubbed you down slowly. caressing the dips of your waist, cold jewelry slides across your stomach, hitching your breath. the tank top you wore stood no chance. brown nipples poking through the sheer cotton fabric.

hes smiling. feeling his hands roam you so freely. he couldn’t help but to take his thumbs and pointer fingers, slipping them into his mouth and out with a quick pop! going back under your shirt, he takes your perky buds in between his fingers, rolling them slowly as the rest of his hands cup your breast.

“oh! eren- oh my god.”

his lips pepper kisses all over your exposed skin, nipping at spots before kissing over the pain. hands roam down to your thighs, giving them tight grips before sliding down the couch.

eyes latched onto each other, you can’t help but to whine.

“please eren.”

this was the first time in years you’ve felt this strong of an attraction towards someone else. crazy for it to be eren of all people.

“please, what?” he’s slowly tugging at the drawstrings of the shorts you wore. eyes locked on you with a burning passion. sitting up against the arm of the couch, your shorts make it to the other side of the room.

your jaw is wide , eren hissing when you tug at his long brown locks. the moment he’s sliding his middle fingers into your burning core, stretching you open as his thumb slowly teases your clit. his body proceeding lower, all you can feel is slight gust of air hitting your cunt. his lips wrap gently around the swollen bud, sucking agonizingly slow, saliva and slick stick to the man’s face. he hums into your taste, wrapping his arms around the base of your thighs. he laid fully out on the couch.

instantly, you’re falling apart. moans breaking out in short whimpers and high gasps, grinding into his palm and nose. feeling his tongue slip inside your clenching hole, only to add two of his slender fingers.

his fingers scissor up into your throbbing cunt, hitting your sweet spot.

“babyy” you whimper, barely able to get anything out with the man’s face devouring you below. eyes closed in euphoria and concentration. hands interlocked into his head full of hair, your moans grow louder.

“doin’ such a good fuckin’ job, princess.”

feeling how he used his thumbs to spread open your pussy, using his tongue to penetrate your clenching hole. his tongue dips into you, coating his tongue in your cum, before coming back out and circling your swollen bud. the repetitive sensation sends you into a fit of louder moans, enticing the man to keep going.

“oh! ba- fu,fuck eren! im fucking c-“ the pressure builds, coiling tighter in your abdomen until you can't hold back anymore. not even when you’re cumming all over the man’s face, does he stop. he wants more now. he needs more.

from the first day he saw you out by the water, he knew he wanted you for himself. he watched the way you interacted with the townsfolk and farm animals. how sexy you were effortlessly. walking around your grandparents farm with nothing but a bikini on and practically see through shorts.

he hated to see other men in town look at you. the way the old, decrepit men would sit in the farmers markets and watch you browse around. whispering to each other while you naively chose your fruits and vegetables.

he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

his body jolts to a standing position, with ease he’s dipping down to pick you up off the couch. a large wet spot decorated the leather where you lie. he’s carrying you over his shoulder down the narrow hallway of the house.

“where we goin’?” you ask, eyes low and hazy.

you make it to the well decorated room. posters and band prints scattered on the wall , a radio sat in the corner, humming random songs from the station eren left it on. his bed was royal blue and well kept.

that was until you were being pounded into the bed.

you nails grip for anything they can reach. digging straight into the bed set, while his throbbing cock dips in and out of you. he has your right leg thrown over his shoulder, hands pinned to your waist as he draws out. face twisting in pleasure. his dick coated in the slippery substance, a faint white line forming the base of his cock as he moves in and out of you repeatedly .

“makin’ such a mess on me. pretty fuckin girl.”

he waste no time, throwing your other leg over his shoulder, locking you in as he quickens his pace. shallow breaths escape his mouth, eyes locked in concentration. you’re stuck with your mouth in an -o- shape as the man pounds you relentlessly. with a swift pull out, he taps against your side.

“on your knees, princess.”

on all fours, he wastes no time reinserting himself, bottoming out while his nails dig into the supple skin on your waist. the sound of skin slapping together and the wet squelches of your abused cunt bounce off the walls, filling your ears.

“i’ve wanted you for so long, you’re so good to me- fuck!”

the more your honey coated words fall from your lips, the more the man wants to ruin you. he wants to see you beg for him. he needed to have it.

pulling your arms from under you, he pins them to your back, locking you in an unforgiving arch. he feeds you slow, agonizing pleasing, strokes. loved watching the way your pussy desperately gripped around him as he pulled out.

trying your hardest to escape the abuse of your cervix, you try to pull away, only to receive a fire fueled spank on your ass.

“take this dick, baby. you had all that mouth ‘member? you can do it, i know ya can.”

his pace quickens, yearning for your release. the only thing you can form is small gasps of air as the man shows no mercy on your smaller frame.

“eren! oh shit- im cumming again ple-“

he releases your hands, using his free hand to rub at your clit as he continued fucking into you.

your body goes limp, clear liquid spewing out onto the man’s blankets. he flips you back over, eyes dark and full of hunger still.

“gimme just one more? please, honey. she just so good.”

folded into a middle split off the bed wasn’t something you ever thought you could do. yet here you were, on your back, eren standing in front of you, holding your legs apart.

his hips roll into yours, digging at your inside slowly. head tilted to the side, eyebrows furrowed and eyes low. your hands hold onto his muscular forearm, trying to keep grounded as the man was wearing you out.

with a few more thrust, he pulls out. long white ropes decorate his chest.

“you’re something special, yn.”

after your grandparents had gone into town for their usual errands, you find yourself at the edge of the lake, hidden in the soft embrace of the willow trees. the faint glow of fireflies flickers in the warm spring air, and the world feels still, like it’s holding its breath for what’s to come. eren’s there before you, waiting, leaning against a tree with a smile that always makes your stomach flip.

“thought you’d never show up,” he teases, his voice low and smooth, like it’s a secret only meant for you. his eyes flicker over you, and the corner of his mouth pulls into a crooked grin.

“you just like being dramatic,” you reply, though you can feel the flutter in your chest as you walk closer, the pull between you too strong to ignore.

he steps forward, closing the space between you, and before you can say anything else, his lips are on yours. quick, soft, the kind of kiss that leaves you breathless. it’s always like this, quick, a rush of feeling that neither of you can seem to contain. he pulls away just as quickly, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“you’re insane.” you whisper, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

he grins, taking your hand and guiding you down the worn path toward the lake. the grass brushes against your bare legs, soft and cool under the fading light. the blanket he’s spread out by the water is a patchwork of colors. faded reds and yellows that look almost too bright against the darkening sky.

you settle down beside him, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the air. the lake reflects the dimming stars, the quiet ripples in the water mirroring the racing of your heart.

“y’know. ive been havin’ a lot of fun with you.” he playfully nudges your body, rocking you to the side.

“i know. imma miss you, country boy.” the fake southern accent rolled off your tongue sarcastically. although the tone was funny, something about erens aura shifted.

“what’s up? why’ve you gone all quiet?” you ask, eyes fixated on the male. the moonlight illuminated his face, exposing every freckle, unshaven parts of his face, and his eyes locked onto yours.

“i jus’ really don’t wanna let you go, princess.”

“don’t go all sappy on me now. i’ll visit when i can, you know that right?” he just nods, taking a drink of the beer he had before your arrival. the air was thick and warm, your knees pressed together, watching the water reflect the bedazzled night sky as eren just shuffles in his spot.

“yn, promise ya wont forget me?”

“eren-“ you try to stop the conversation before it happens. instead ending up in a tight hug from the man. his arms latch around your waist, head resting over your shoulder.

“im serious, yn. i ain’t ever felt this way for nobody.” pulling away, all you can see is his bright green eyes burning into yours.

“how could i ever?”

you lean in, your free hand brushing against his jaw as you kiss him. it’s slow, deliberate, and familiar, yet it feels new in the way it sends warmth flooding through you.

his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck, his touch firm but gentle as he deepens the kiss, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment for as long as he can. the world around you fades. the quiet lap of the water against the shore, the soft hum of the crickets. until there’s nothing but him.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. eren’s thumb brushes over the curve of your jaw, and his lips curl into a small, almost sheepish smile.

“you ever thought about visiting the city?”

random inspo pics at the bottom? yes!

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general-cheezits · 2 years ago

Photo

Transitional Porch

#This is an illustration of a sizable #screened-in back porch with a roof extension in a transitional style. bi-fold windows #open kitchen #kitchen servery #cooker #stainless steel benchtop #canopy rangehood #open living

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daily-borgia · 2 years ago

Photo

Front Yard Porch (Charlotte)

#Small arts and crafts brick front porch photo craftsman front porch #awnings & canopies #craftsman front porch design ideas #small front porch designs #front porch designs #small front porch design ideas

0 notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Monster Mania.

Pairing: Yandere!Vampire!Neuvillette x Reader x Yandere!Werewolf!Wriothesley (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Oral Sex, Mentions of Blood, Non-Human Anatomy, Possessive Behavior, Prolonged Imprprisoment, and Slight Dehumanization.

“Pouting won’t get you out of this.”

“I’m not—” You paused, gritting your teeth as his shoulder pressed uncomfortably into your stomach. In retribution, you did your best to drive your knee into his chest, to let him know he was hurting you without admitting that you were even more fragile than he’d assumed, but if he cared about your attempts at resistance, if he so much as noticed that you’d moved at all, Wriothesley didn’t waver. “I’m not pouting, I’m trying to get away from my fucking stalker and his—” Another fit of thrashing. This time, Wriothesley was kind enough to tighten his hold on your legs. “—fucking dog. Why is that so hard for you two to get that through your heads?”

He hummed, drumming his fingers against your thigh. “Might be how often call us… what was it, again? A stalker and a dog?”

You scowled, crossing your arms. From your current position, slung over his shoulder, the remnants of one of his rope snares still wrapped around your left ankle, you could only see the thin footpath he was following and the dense forest that laid beyond it. The tree canopy was too thick to let you see the sky (something you mourned and Neuvillette adored, considering his fondness for early evening walks), but rays of golden sunlight still managed to pierce the endless sprawl of branches and leaves, marking the first signs of dusk. Neuvillette had still been asleep when you slipped through the door Wriothesley had forgotten to lock when he left for his daily hunting trip, but he’d be waking up soon; you could already imagine him rising from his canopied bed, picture the diluted shock he’d wear as he stepped into your bedroom for his first meal of the night only to find it empty. You weren’t surprised Wriothesley was so eager to get you home. Neuvillette was stoic at the worst of times, but the thought of letting his pet blood-bag get away was one of the few things that could get a reaction out of him.

Not that Wriothesley was much better. He was more level-headed, sure, more likely to let you wear something aside from ivory nightgowns and untangle you from Neuvillette’s arms when his hunger left him in a blood-thirsty daze, but that never stopped him from taking Neuvillette’s side when you found yourself in another petty argument, from standing in the doorway with a smile and a dreamy look in his eyes as Neuvillette fastened a lace collar around your neck, a collar just a touch too small to cover the twin puncture marks at the base of your throat and just a touch too similar to the steel choker that sat at the base of Wriothesley’s throat more often than not. He might’ve been human, something as mortal and as delicate as you were, but he was still a monster. He’d be crushed under Neuvillette’s heel a thousand times before he ever considered showing you mercy.

The shadow of their mansion was coming into view, now – the lonely building just as dark and just as intimidating as it’d been the first time Wriothesley lured inside. It stretched on as far as the eye could see in either direction and towered above you like some awful, looming thing; thick curtains constantly drawn over its many windows and every surface of its exterior constantly covered in a thick layer of creeping ivy. The rotting boards of the front porch groaned under his weight as he approached the front door, and you braced yourself as he cursed under his breath, patting down the pockets of his heavy flannel. You weren’t sure why they bothered keeping the door locked at all – aside from what it took to keep you trapped inside, at least. Neuvillette was the most dangerous thing for the next hundred miles, and Wriothesley was a close second.

The inside of the mansion was just as ominous; any light from the outside world captured and suffocated before it could penetrate Neuvillette’s endless abyss. You squirmed, hoping Wriothesley would at least let you cross the threshold on your own, but he wasn’t so kind, only responding to your silent plea with a playful squeeze to your calf as he made his way past the entryway and down an unlit hall, passing several torn paintings and overturned tables before finally shrugging open the door to Neuvillette’s study. A bottle of red wine sat open and half-drained on his mahogany desk, a small fire smoldering in the stone hearth he only rarely used. Neuvillette sat beside it, dressed in a simple black robe, his eyes blearily focused on the low-burning flames. He looked concerned, but his apprehension faded as Wriothesley carried you into his line of sigh, disappearing completely as you were hauled off of Wriothesley’s shoulder and dropped into Neuvillette’s lap. One of his hands found its way to your waist, its twin cupping your cheek, tilting your head back and allowing him to press a lingering kiss into the top of your head. “Beloved,” he muttered, practically breathing out his pet name for you before turning to Wriothesley. “Thank you, duke. I’m sorry you’ve had to inconvenience yourself for the sake of what should be my responsibility again.”

With a groan, Wriothesley fell onto the foot of the fireplace, shrugging off his coat. Where Neuvillette chose to hide his bloodlust behind a thick veil of unwavering niceties and delicate elegance, Wriothesley leaned into his brutality; broad muscle straining at the confines of his black undershirt, scruff cropping up faster than he could clear it away, his hair an untamable mess of black and grey and his clothes caked in an ever constant layer of mud and wear (save for his metal choker, of course, which was always polished to conspicuous shine). His eyes lit up when he heard Neuvillette ask after him, posture straightening like that of a soldier called to attention. You’d been too generous when you called him a dog. He was a mutt, too mindlessly obedient to ever question his master’s orders. “How many centuries has it been since you’ve had a reason to call me that?”

“It should be four this year.” Another kiss, this one to the corner of your jaw. You could feel the points of his fangs, still tucked behind his lips but no less dangerous for their momentary concealment. “Don’t you have something to say to him, as well?”

It took a moment to register he was talking to you, another to recognize the hypocrisy of what he was asking you. Your pressed frown fell into an open-mouthed balk. “Absolutely not.” And then, when Neuvillette held strong, “You can’t expect me to thank him for keeping me trapped here—”

“Silence.” He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t bear his fangs or dig his pointed nails into your thigh – he didn’t have to. All it took was that tone. Assertive, but not quite forceful. Lulling, but no softer than the wood and stone of his hellish mansion. Immediately, you shut your mouth. Neuvillette closed his eyes, letting out a raspy sigh before taking you by the hips and turning you in his lap, so that you faced outward rather than into his chest. That was enough to earn Wriothesley’s full attention, perking up as you were perched on the edge of Neuvillette’s lap. “Why don’t we try that again. Do you have anything to say to Wriothesley?”

You glared pointedly at the floor. “Thank you. For bringing me back?”

“And?”

“And...” This was the part you hated the most. If there’d been an alternative – a dungeon they could’ve thrown you into, a brand they could sear into your skin – you would’ve embraced it with open arms. But, that was the worst part about dealing with an captor. He had all the time in the world to make you bask in your own humiliation, and he never seemed to tire of the pasttime. “And, thank you for making sure I didn’t get hurt in the forest.”

As if there was anything out there that could’ve hurt you more than they did. Still, it seemed to appease Neuvillette, who let out an approving hum as he turned to Wriothesley. “What do you think? Be honest, this time. No lesson was ever taught with a gentle hand.”

He took a long moment to look over you, another to wet his lips. Wordlessly, dependent on the pure desperation in your eyes, you begged him not to listen to Neuvillette, to take your side just this once, but your improvised attempts at telepathic communication proved unsuccessful. “It could’ve been more genuine,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. “Didn’t have much nice to say on the way back, either.”

“Is that so?” His fingertips drummed against your side. “Why don’t you join us?”

Wriothesley didn’t hesitate, practically stumbling over himself as he crawled to Neuvillette’s feet. He came to rest on his knees, hand braced against the rug between his thighs and his cheek only a hair’s width from Neuvillette’s leg, as if waiting for permission to press against him. He always looked at his most relaxed there, on the floor, patiently waiting for an order from his master. It was hard to tell whether it was a skill learned through time, or if subservience was just in his nature.

His obedience was rewarded with a breathy chuckle, a hand run through his unruly hair. Wriothesley was more lax with himself than he usually was, letting his eyes fall shut as he melted into Neuvillette’s touch. “Since your tongue is so uncooperative today,” Neuvillette started, leaning forward just far enough to rest his chin on your shoulder. “How do you think you can show our dear helper how grateful you are?”

A bolt of cold dread shot down your spine. You moved to stand, to get away, but Neuvillette’s arm wrapped tight around your midriff, keeping you pinned against him despite your resistance. “Neuvi’,” you mumbled, squirming against him. “Please, Neuvi’, I don’t want to—”

“Now you’re going to play nice?” His hand fell to your knee, drawing your legs apart. Wriothesley filled the space before you could clench them shut again, his mouth immediately latching onto the inside of your thigh, his dull teeth burying themselves in the plush of your exposed skin. You cursed under your breath, trying to shake him off, but he held tight, fists curling around your ankles to keep you spread and exposed as Neuvillette watched on, his grin pressing into the crook of your throat. “That’s a little cruel, beloved. Can’t you see how excited he is?”

You could. There was a glassy sheen over his half-lidded eyes, a hunch to his posture that meant he was too distracted with you to care about how he held himself. You’d slipped out in a rush, eager to get as far as you could before Neuvillette woke up. In your haste, you hadn’t bothered to change out of the simple, silken frock you were wearing; a choice you only came to regret as Neuvillette dragged the tattered hem to your waist, as Wriothesley’s attention drifted from your thighs to your panties, the lacey fabric torn away with little more than a curl of his fingers and a throaty growl. That, more than anything, caught you off-guard. It wasn’t a threat, but it was more hostile than anything he’d ever directed towards you before. It wasn’t a sound someone like him, someone like you, should’ve been capable of making.

Neuvillette must’ve felt the way you stiffened against him. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the curve of your throat, just a touch too close to the vein he preferred to drink from, then another into the dip of your shoulder. “Surely, you must’ve noticed how scarce Wriothesley makes himself around this time of the month.” He paused, laughing airily. “He’d already be safely locked away in the cellar, if you hadn’t made him run out and fetch you. I suppose it must’ve slipped his mind while he was looking for you.”

“I don’t—” A tongue, broader than it should’ve been, hotter than it should’ve been, ran over your slit. “But, he’s supposed to be—”

“Human?” You refused to look at him, refused to acknowledge what he was doing to you, but you could feel his teeth ghosting over your skin, their usually dull tips beginning to sharpen into something more pointed, more animalistic. His tongue slipped into your entrance, thick enough to stretch you open with little more than its curling tip, and Neuvillette’s focus fell to your clit, left neglected by Wriothesley’s unwavering concentration on lapping up as much of your (humiliatingly, quickly accumulating) slick as he could. His thumb toyed with the sensitive bundle of nerves as he went on. “He is rather young, as far as immortal beings are concerned. He made an adorable puppy, back when creatures of the night were free to roam as they pleased, but he’s matured since his days of village razing and cattle slaughtering. I think you’ll find he’s learned how to keep his fangs to himself.” Wriothesley nipped gently at the junction of your thigh. You winced and Neuvillette added, “More or less.”

You could only bring yourself to half-listen to what he was saying. Wriothesley was growing more wild by the second, his formerly languid movements now hasty and agitated, little groans and growls joining the wet, disgusting sounds quickly filling the study. You felt claws that hadn’t been there a moment ago dig into your ankles, his already impressive build taking on bulk that would’ve been possible for anything natural, anything human. It wasn’t enough to just look away, anymore – you shut your eyes completely, bowing your head and curling into yourself as Wriothesley ate you out like a man— no, not a man, a beast starved. The cool marble of Neuvillette’s chest was almost a comfort when compared to the raw heat of Wriothesley’s mouth. It might’ve been more soothing, had he not been taking so much joy in your suffering.

“He’s always been prone to getting carried away. I used to have to fetch him at dawn – he could never seem to make it home before the moon set and he was left bare and unconscious in the vineyard of some poor nobleman.” He pulled back, letting Wriothesley’s cold nose grind against your clit in his place. You weren’t free from his touch for very long, though. The array of ribbons that kept the bodice of your frock drawn tight were undone, the neckline loosened and allowed to fall to your shoulders. “I’ve always preferred a more direct approach. The occasional drunkard taken off the street and drained was always enough to keep me sated.” He paused, cupped the curves of your chest. “Until I came across you, of course.”

You felt his fangs scrape over your neck, but he didn’t have time to bite down before you lurched forward, the sporadic movements of Wriothesley’s tongue bringing you to a sudden, unsteady climax. It was abrupt enough, violent enough to make tears swell in the corners of your eyes, to steal a ragged gasp from your lungs despite your attempts to swallow back any pathetic sound your weak-willed body might’ve wanted to make. For the first time, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him, letting your gaze fall onto the black-furred, oversized thing between your legs. He was unrecognizable, black fur and a wolf-like muzzle swallowing any familiar trait you might’ve latched onto. Pointed ears laid flat against his scalp, a grey-tipped tail brushed over the floor lazily behind him as he moved to keep going, to milk every last drop out of you, but Neuvillette reached down and took him by the metal collar now pressing flush against his throat. There was a low, drawn-out whine as he was dragged up and away from your pussy, but Neuvillette’s cruelty was limited to you.

“We spent hours talking about what to do with you, when he first brought you home.” He spoke absent-mindedly, muttering against your throat as he guided Wriothesley onto his knees. Even at only a fraction of his full height, he was tall enough to loom over you, to replace your limited world with a towering shadow of black fur and white teeth. He was panting, his chin glistening with slick and drool, what was left of his tattered clothes torn away in a few aggerated swipes of his claws. You’d been wrong, again – not every part of him was unfamiliar. His eyes were still there, the grey clouded and his pupils blown out but still undeniably his. Still fixed entirely on you.

“I thought he should turn you as soon as possible, but he protested, claimed the transformation would be too much for you.” He bowed his head, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Between you and I, there might be a chance he’s hoping I’ll give in first. He does his best to hide it, but he tends to sulk whenever I choose to feed from you. I think he’s hoping we might both have to rely on him.”

Clawed hands curled around the arms of his chair, the wood creaking under Wriothesley’s weight. For the first time, you let your eyes drift lower, let yourself take in the massive, pulsing cock standing erect against his lower stomach. It looked too big; like a prop, made to only vaguely resemble the real thing. It looked like it could tear you in half.

“Then again, he might’ve grown fond of the idea of adding another wolf to his pack,” Neuvillette added, as you went limp against him. “We’ll have to see how human you feel when the sun rises.”

It was an awkward position, Wriothesley too tall and Neuvillette too unyielding. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around your midriff as his other hand drifted into the limited space between your body and Wriothesley’s, his pale hand curling around Wriothesley’s thick shaft and carefully lining it up with your dripping cunt. Wriothesley bucked into the stimulation, his body lurching forward and his head nuzzling into the dip of your shoulder. You felt his breath, warm and humid, fan over your chest, then the rough reverberation of his voice against your skin. “Mate.” It was more of a groan than anything, one long breath that seemed to escape from some unseen vault. It was his voice, but there was something underneath it, too – something more guttural than you would ever want on top of you. “Mine.”

“Ours,” Neuvillette corrected, tightening his hold and drawing you close. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel it, pressing against your throat as his fangs reclaimed lost territory. “Our precious, misguided little pet.”

Wriothesley thrust into you as Neuvillette drove his teeth into your skin, both men piercing you simultaneously. Too stunned to scream, you could only silently wonder who would end you first.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #yandere wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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reincrimination · 3 months ago

Text

race against the clock

criminal minds | aaron hotchner x reader

content warnings: canon-typical violence, guns, death (unsub), panic attack, kidnapping, mild injury.

collection: whumptober 2024, day 1: race against the clock/search party/panic attack.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims. Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you. “Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right now. “What have you done with her?”

Aaron Hotchner knows how to keep his cool. Probably better than anyone on the team. In fact, he was the one to remind everyone to do just that before they breached the doors on this unsub’s decrepit cabin.

The woods were dark and eerie, as they always are on these types of days. It was some hour past midnight, Hotch couldn’t recall- all the numbers had started to blur together. The only time he had in his head was twelve hours, twelve hours since you’d gone missing. Taken right out of the parking lot of the precinct.

At least there hadn’t been much question about who had taken you. Finding the unsub’s cabin had been easy once Garcia had been given a name. Hotch only hoped recovering you would be that easy, and that you’d be unharmed.

“FBI! Open the door!” a man fully decked out in black SWAT gear and significantly more firepower than Hotch yelled, pounding on the front door.

The slats of the porch creaked under their feet, the paint flaking off the railings and the door-frame. The light shining through the smudged windows was the only clue this place was even inhabited.

There wasn’t even a car in the driveway.

The battering ram took the rotting door clear off of its hinges. The SWAT team fans out inside, searching room after room. Hotch hears them yelling “clear” as they proceed through the house. He waited with baited breath. If it were up to him he’d have been inside with them, but they knew this guy had lots of firepower at his disposal, so it was SWAT’s job to clear the house. Which, they had. Finding no one inside. Not even you.

Hotch felt the small balloon of hope inside him pop; the wind had been knocked out of him without so much as a physical punch. The SWAT team filed back out of the house. There was no unsub, and there was no sign of you.

A loud bang pierced the quiet night air.

The entire assembly of police and FBI agents all whirled around, guns drawn without a second thought. No one knew where to point them, though. The dark forest pressed in on all four sides of the cabin, the dirt road driveway even consumed by darkness after a few hundred feet.

“Drop the weapon!” Morgan yelled. Hotch looked at Morgan, and then to where Morgan was looking. The rest of the police force did the same, and suddenly, twenty guns were all drawn on him- the man who had you. He was half-hidden by the shadows cast by the tall pine trees, the moonlight unable to illuminate anything this far down from the forest canopy.

He had a gun, too, but he wasn’t aiming it. He held it in his left hand, which Hotch- and you- had known was his dominant one, by the characteristics of the stab wounds that he had left on his victims.

Stab wounds that he might’ve- Hotch’s breath hitches- left on you.

“Where is she?” Hotch yells. Another agent had been talking, maybe Morgan, but he didn’t give a shit right then. “What have you done with her?”

The unsub smirked, his grubby little brows furrowing, beady eyes narrowing, as he stared at Hotch.

“Answer me!” Hotch screamed. His voice broke on the last word.

“Take it easy, man,” Morgan said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let the others talk to him. Take a breath.”

Taking a breath seemed like an objectively good idea, but Hotch found, he could not. His chest felt tight, like a rope was being pulled taut around him. His vision had begun to swim, the only thing he was focused in on was that disgusting, abhorrent man who had- who had-.

“Hotch,” Morgan repeated. He holstered his gun and took Hotch’s from him. “Come here. Don’t let him see you like this. That’s what he wants.”

“I need…” Hotch gasped. His hands were tingling, his fingers cramping. He tried to make fists with his hands as he followed Morgan back and around the back of an SUV, hidden from the unsub’s line of sight, but his hands weren’t cooperating. “I need to get her back, Morgan.”

What was happening to him? He had never felt like this before. He wouldn’t even be able to fire a gun like this, not with his hands cramping. How was he supposed to do anything?

“Is- are they talking to him?” Hotch peeked around the side of the SUV. He saw Spencer, his hands out placatingly, trying to talk to the unsub. He trusted Spencer, he trusted all of his team, but he needed to be out there. What if the unsub said something that they all missed. That only Hotch could put together. What if he said that he had killed you? Stabbed you, like all the others, or worse? “I need to- Morgan, give me my gun.”

“Hotch, relax,” Morgan tapped his shoulders again, trying to draw his attention back. “Focus on me. Breathe, slowly. You’re hyperventilating. You’re panicking, man. You’re no help to her like this.”

“Morgan, she’s not just- fuck- she’s not just an agent, she’s- we’re-,” Hotch stammered.

“I know, Hotch. We all know. And we’re going to find her.”

Hotch felt his hands relaxing, his chest loosening, his composure returning, like clouds parting after a storm. Leaving a clear sky. He needed to focus on finding you, and he couldn’t do that if he was panicking. He held his breath and counted to seven and then exhaled and did it again, until his hands were steady and his vision was clear.

“I told you,” Hotch heard the unsub groan to Spencer, “I don’t want to talk to you. I want to talk to Hotch. To Aaron.”

Morgan handed him his gun back and they left the shelter of the SUV. The unsub was still talking with Spencer, but had clearly noticed Hotch’s absence. The unsub’s gaze had flicked to track Hotch as he strode to the front of the crescent of officers. He kept his gun at his side- enough officers had their guns trained on the unsub anyways- in an attempt to be non-threatening.

“I’m Aaron,” Hotch said. He stepped forward, closer to the unsub. Hotch scanned his clothes, hands, arms, boots, everything, for any trace of blood, or dirt, or any clue as to where you were hidden. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I think you know what I want to talk about,” the unsub huffed a laugh. “You were all she wanted to talk about.”

Wanted? In the past tense?

Hotch felt the panic rising again. He took a deep breath. He could do this, he could stay focused for you. He had to, if he ever wanted to see you- alive, or otherwise, again. He had to pretend this was no different than any other case, that you were just another victim. That was the only way for him to avoid panicking- something he had never known he needed to avoid doing, before. Before you. Before he cared about someone as much as he cared about you, before you were put in danger.

“What else did you talk about?” Hotch asked. He needed information, any small hint at where the man had hidden you.

“Plenty.” The unsub shifted his weight from foot to foot, his left hand flexed around the hilt of his handgun. “We talked about how I couldn’t wait to shoot you. How that would be more painful to her than any physical would I could inflict. She begged me not to. Have you ever heard her beg before?”

The unsub began to raise his left arm up, gun in hand, but before it passed his waistline, a hail of bullets rained down on him. His body hit the ground before Hotch could even blink.

“NO!” Hotch shouted. He holstered his own gun, and kicked the unsub’s gun away from his side. He sank to his knees, suit pants sinking into the damp mud and pine needles. Hotch knotted his fists in the man’s shirt, and shook him, hard. “Where is she?”

“Hotch,” Emily murmured, somehow kneeling beside him now.

“Hotch, he’s gone.”

“Tell me where she is, you bastard!” Hotch’s voice had begun to go raw from screaming. He shook him one more time. Then he noticed: the dark, round hole in the center of his forehead.

Hotch released his grip on the unsub’s body and stumbled to his feet.

His knees were wet from the mud, and maybe from the blood that had undoubtedly already pooled out around the body from the various gunshot wounds.

Now we have nothing, he thought, pushing past the crowd of officers. He glanced at the empty driveway. Not even a car.

Not even a car.

Hotch whipped around.

“Follow the tire tracks!” he ordered, breaking into a run. “He has to have used the car to move her. Wherever it is, she is.”

He pulled out his flashlight and shone it on the dirt driveway. The earth was wet and covered in pine needles, making it difficult to analyze what he found. Two divots on each side of the path denoted the place the tires must’ve usually rested when the car was parked. They extended down the path through the forest, down a few miles to the main road. There wasn’t much room between the trees for the car to have pulled off, but he must’ve found somewhere, because if he had taken you to the main road, the officers at the roadblocks there would have seen him.

Hotch broke into a run, shining his flashlight ahead of him, looking for the slightest disturbance in the forest floor. He heard footsteps and clamor behind him as the rest of the cops and his agents spread out into a search party. He knew they could get scent dogs out in a few hours, but your scent would be hard to track, if not impossible, especially if he was right and the unsub had moved you using a car. Searching on foot was Hotch’s only hope to find you soon.

He had said that they had talked about shooting him- how it would be more painful for you than anything he could possibly have done to her.

Implying that you had to have been alive when the unsub shot Hotch- or had tried to.

The relief and hope that flooded Hotch at that realization almost distracted him enough to miss what he had finally found- a tire track, veering off between two trees that the car had probably barely fit between. Hotch shone the beam of the flashlight on the trunks and noticed the bark had been scraped off, and chips of white paint were left in the gouges. You had to be somewhere close, if the unsub had walked on foot from where he had hidden you.

Hotch began yelling your name, and then, all the other officers started, too. They moved forward like in a grid search, looking behind every tree, kicking through the leaf cover for anything left behind. “I found the car!” Morgan yelled. Then, the words that Hotch had been waiting to hear for the last twelve- now more like thirteen- hours: “I got her! She’s alive!”

Hotch ran towards the sound. The officers had already clustered around a small wooden structure, a hunting blind. A few meters behind it was the unsub’s parked car. The area quickly became illuminated in bright white lights as all the cops present shone their flashlights on you.

Hotch watched as Morgan began to help you up. Your hands were zip-tied tightly behind your back; Hotch could see dried blood around your wrists where they had cut into your skin. A pair of zip ties hung off of your ankles- Morgan must have just cut them off. He used his pocket knife to slash the ones holding your wrists together, too. Your hair was disheveled and full of leaves and debris, like you had been dragged along the floor, and a huge gash and bump to your right temple, like you’d been pistol whipped, glowed in the bright light of the flashlights.

“Where is he?” you sobbed, clinging onto Morgan’s arms as he helped you out of the blind. “Is he dead?”

“He’s dead, sweetheart,” Morgan tried to soothe you and pull you in for a hug, but you pushed him away, more strongly than you should’ve been able to after being tied up for so long.

“No!” you wailed. “How could you let this happen?”

Confusion flashed on Morgan’s face, and through Hotch’s mind.

Then, he realized. The unsub had known that he would die when he faced the police, but he knew that his final act would be to psychologically torture you, leaving you to wonder if one of the gunshots you had heard had been him shooting Hotch, like he had promised you he’d do as his final act.

Morgan had misunderstood your question. He had just told you that Hotch was dead.

Hotch finally closed the distance between the two of you. He grabbed your shoulders and spun you around to face him. A broken sob wrenched its way out of your throat, tear tracks already cutting through the layer of dirt and dried blood on your face.

“Aaron,” you croaked. “Oh, thank God.”

“I’m here,” Aaron murmured beside your ear, so softly no one else could hear. It was just you and him now, in your own world. The secrecy of your relationship be damned, he would deal with the consequences later. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

You broke down sobbing into his arms, all the fight flooding out of you as soon as you realized that Hotch was alive. The dehydration, the hunger, the fear, and the pain in your head all rushed back in. Hotch’s arms tightened around you, the only thing holding you up anymore. His face was smushed into your dirty hair, the blood on your wrists was staining his shirt and tie, but neither of you noticed, nor would you have cared if you had.

“I knew you- I knew you’d find me,” you gasped, fisting his shirt in your trembling fingers. You stared up at him, into his beautiful glossy brown eyes, committing every inch of his face to memory. You had thought you’d never see him again, never hear his voice again, never feel his touch again. “When I heard the shots, I thought- oh, my God- I thought you were-.”

“Shh,” Aaron soothed. He wrapped a hand around the back of your head, near the base of your skull, and guided your face into the crook of his neck. His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, a wet, raw sound. “I know.”

“I thought he…” you mumbled into his neck, the words dying on your parched lips, or before that, in your sore throat. “Aaron.”

“I’ve got you, honey,” he murmured back, cradling your head so softly in his big hands. “You’re safe now.”

#whumptober 2024 #no.1 #race against the clock #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #bau team #ssa aaron hotchner

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 15 days ago

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Hi! I read your posts offering tips on how to describe dark coastal and academia settings. They were super helpful! I was wondering if you had any writing tips for dark forests..? Hope it wasn't too big of an ask. Thanks for your time!

I truly love this so much! I apologize for the delay in my post. I tend to put things off sometimes, I'm a serial procrastinator and it took me a little while to gather my thoughts on what you might encounter in dark forests. But hopefully these are similar to what you wanted!

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜List of Random Things For Your Dark Forests Settings | For Writers

✩°𓏲⋆🌿. ⋆⸜

The Overgrown Trail 🌿

Winding dirt path obscured by tangled roots and underbrush

Twisted, gnarled tree trunks reaching up to block the sky

Shafts of pale moonlight cutting through the thick canopy

The distant hoot of an owl and the chittering of unseen creatures

The earthy, damp scent of decaying leaves and moss

The Abandoned Cabin 🏚️

Dilapidated wooden structure, its paint peeling and windows boarded up

Cobwebs draped across the porch railing and doorframe

The creak of warped floorboards and the groan of the sagging roof

Rusted tools and broken furniture scattered among the weeds

The stale, musty odor of neglect and the faint tang of rot

The Moonlit Glade 🌕

A small clearing, the grass blanketed in a carpet of wildflowers

Gnarled, ancient trees ringing the open space like silent sentinels

Faint wisps of fog drifting across the still surface of a dark pond

The soft susurration of leaves in the gentle breeze

The faint glow of bioluminescent mushrooms dotting the forest floor

The Winding Stream 🌊

A burbling brook cutting through the undergrowth, its water crystal-clear

Thick, twisted roots breaking through the soil along the banks

Schools of darting minnows and the occasional flash of a trout

Clusters of delicate ferns and mosses clinging to the damp rocks

The soothing sound of rushing water over the pebbles

The Ritual Circle 🕯️

A ring of large, moss-covered stones in a small, secluded clearing

Remnants of burned candles and wilted flower petals scattered within

Carved wooden totems or animal skulls adorning the perimeter

Thin wisps of incense smoke curling up towards the treetops

The eerie silence, broken only by the distant cry of a raven

The Fog-Shrouded Ravine 🌫️

A deep chasm obscured by tendrils of swirling mist

Gnarled, skeletal trees clinging to the steep, rocky sides

The faint sound of running water echoing up from the unseen depths

Thick vines and twisted roots snaking across the uneven ground

The chill of the damp air, raising goosebumps on bare skin

The Witch's Cottage 🧙‍♀️

A crooked, thatched-roof hut nestled between the twisted trees

Dried herbs and animal bones hanging from the eaves

Smoke curling from the chimney, the scent of charred wood and herbs

A small garden of nightshade, mandrake, and other sinister plants

The eerie cackling of the resident witch, her shadow glimpsed through the windows

The Forgotten Graveyard 🪦

Crumbling, moss-covered headstones half-submerged in the undergrowth

Skeletal tree branches reaching down like grasping hands

Ravens perched atop the weathered grave markers, cawing ominously

Shreds of tattered funeral wreaths and faded flowers scattered about

An unearthly chill in the air, as if the spirits of the dead linger

The Enchanted Pool 🌙

A small, still body of water reflecting the night sky above

Luminescent flora blooming along the murky banks

Schools of glimmering, ethereal fish drifting through the depths

Mist swirling across the surface, obscuring the view of the bottom

The faint sound of otherworldly music drifting from unseen sources

The Cursed Clearing 🕳️

A barren, circular area devoid of vegetation, as if scorched by dark magic

Twisted, blackened tree trunks surrounding the perimeter like sentinels

Jagged shards of obsidian-like rock piercing up from the soil

The crunch of bone-dry leaves and twigs underfoot, shattering the silence

An oppressive aura of dread and unnatural stillness permeating the air

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hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months ago

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I can't believe that this tiny looking 1870 shotgun house in New Orleans, LA is a 3 family tri-plex. It has a total of 4bds, 3ba, and the price is $589K.

This would be the 1st unit. The home has been renovated into 3 separate apts., but they did leave some elements of the original architecture like the floor and the fireplace in this room.

This does look like a cute older shotgun home.

There's a new eat-in kitchen with so many cabinets. This kitchen is a simple white with wood countertops.

This bedroom is large enough for a canopy bed without looking crowded.

And, there's also an original brick fireplace. With 4 total bds., there are two 1bd. apts. and one 2bd.

Nice new bath.

The double doors on the side of the house are the entrance to the 2nd unit and it's also a 1bd. apt.

When you enter, the cute small blue kitchen is on the left.

The is the living room with a lovely fireplace painted white.

The bd. has a fireplace and it's pretty large for a shotgun house.

And, it has a renovated, small 3pc. bath.

The back doors, furthermost down and the last doors on the side of the house, are the entrance to the 3rd and largest apt. Then entrance isn't that attractive b/c the laundry is right there.

But, this is a lovely living room. It has a large fireplace with a decorative mantel.

The kitchen is cute. It has an exposed brick fireplace wall, white cabinets and wood counters.

The reason that this apt. is the largest is b/c it also includes the 2nd fl.

Bathroom #1 is a little narrow, but it opens up a little toward the back.

It has a new toilet and sink.

Bd. #1 is a cute little room with a nice fireplace.

Of the 2 bds, this is the primary. It has an original fireplace too.

This unit has access to the 2nd fl. narrow wraparound porch.

The largest unit has its own yard, but the entire yard alongside the house is in need of a cleanup and new landscaping.

And, this is the yard for the middle unit. The house is in a kind of neglected shape, but it's cute.

The front apt. also has a side door entrance and it opens out to the first yard that is allotted to that particular unit. It has a garden and is the nicest out of the three.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/2704-Burgundy-St-New-Orleans-LA-70117/73801409_zpid/

#new orleans homes #NOLA homes #shotgun houses #house tours #houses #home tour

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dunsterhouseblogs · 2 years ago

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The Benefits of Timber Porch Kits. Timber porch kits provide a convenient and efficient solution for homeowners who want to add a stunning sheltered area at the entrance to their property.

#home improvement #porches #porch canopy #exterior #home and garden #canopy #entrance #doorway #front door #home #shelter #wooden porch canopy

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themultifanshipper · 2 months ago

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Granted, it was a bad idea to go camping in the forest on halloween.

And yes, it was a bad idea to go hiking while the sun was setting and it would soon be night-time.

So of course, you were lost, alone, in the rapidly darkening woods while the sound of wolves echoed in the distance.

Part of my Halloween event!

Warnings: smut, literal doggystyle, biting, issues around consent? Idk just read cautiously bc it's kind of unclear

Sue you, you were an adventurer at heart and god forbid, you wanted to have some fucking fun after a hellish week at work.

But unfortunately your current predicament meant that you had no cell service and no way to get back to your car, so you walked.

And walked. For hours.

Just when you were about to start actually panicking, you spotted a faint light up ahead.

It turns out it was coming from a wooden cottage, from which you could see smoke coming out of the chimney.

Perfect. They probably had a phone or a car or some way to help you.

You knocked on the door.

No answer.

After a few seconds you knocked again, a bit harder, but still no answer.

A loud wolf howl suddenly breaking the eerie silence of the woods made you jump out of your skin and you knocked again, slightly panicking.

“Please” you muttered, but it was no use.

The howling suddenly stopped and somehow that was even scarier as your heart rate increased drastically.

A faint rumbling could be heard in the distance.

You weren't sure how to describe the sound. It was low and rythmically stopped every few seconds as if... as if it was coming from some sort of animal.

So growling. Something was growling out there, and as the sound got progressively louder, you realised it must be getting closer.

Leaves rustled all around you, and as you stood there, terrified out of your mind and glued to the door, a sudden shift in the air bathed you in a bright light.

You looked up to see the clouds moving and realised you were not looking a an alien ship coming to abduct you, but at the moon.

The full moon.

Another howl broke through your sanity and this one was much louder.

So loud in fact, that you realised it was right on the other side of the cabin.

Another wave of panic overtook you and your hand went straight to the door handle and turned it in a last ditch effort to get inside.

The door swung open and you could’ve cried at the relief as you ran inside and shut the door behind you.

In that brief moment of calm, you took in your surroundings and were surprised to see it was very cosy.

And was actually much bigger than it looked from outside.

You were in a living room, with big luxurious sofas and a beautifully carved wooden coffee table.

The walls were covered in framed pictures and paintings and in one corner was the kitchen, and in the other was a massive fireplace where a fire was crackling.

You looked at the undulating flames, and somehow all your worries slipped from your mind.

The comfort of the heat and the homely decor made you sleepy, and you realised how long you'd been wandering the forest for when your eyes settled on a clock.

It read 3:27 ... it had been dark for over 7 hours!

You were brought out of your thoughts by the sound of heavy footsteps falling on the porch outside.

You did the first thing you thought of, you ran to the nearest door and wrenched it open, revealing a bedroom, decorated similarly to the living room, with a huge canopy bed in the middle of it.

But you didn't dwell on the decor.

You shut the door, leaving just a tiny crack from which to observe from, as the front door of the cabin opened.

To your surprise, a dog entered.

But never mind how on earth a dog managed to turn a handle, no, that wasn't the strangest thing about it.

What caught your attention was it's size.

It was fucking enormous. Like, if it stood on its hind legs, its head would probably touch the ceiling.

It had soft black fur and looked like a mix between a doberman, and...

Well, a wolf.

It looked at the clock (What???) and whined, it's head hanging as if it was exasperated. Could a dog be exasperated? Also, can dogs read clocks???

And more importantly why is this dog the size of a fucking horse???

All these questions swam in your mind and you didn't register that it was coming towards you until it was too late.

It pushed the door open and startled when it saw you, cowering on the floor pathetically.

It narrowed its eyes and growled softly, and you realised that was what you heard when you were outside.

It stalked towards you and you backed up slowly, your back eventually hitting the edge of the bed.

You climbed on backwards, but soon enough your back hit the headboard, and you were well and truly cornered, nowhere else left to run.

The terrified look on your face seemed to amuse the dog and it let out something akin to a growly chuckle as it advanced, crawling up onto the bed after you.

Once it got close enough, it secured it's mouth around one of your ankles, not biting exactly, but hard enough to be able to yank you back down the bed, so that you were laying flat while it towered over yyou.

You were too scared to make any kind of noise, it was going to eat you, and there was nothing you could do about it. You were about to be eaten by a horse sized dog, and your body would be found by the owner of the cabin.

As if reading your mind, the dog smirked.

Well, dogs can't smirk, but if they could, that's what this one was definitely doing.

Instead of eating you however, it plopped down on top of you with its two front paws (which were almost bigger than human hands) on your shoulders, holding you down.

It still looked mildly pissed off, but nowhere near as angry as it was, and it just stared at you.

And you stared back.

And the two of you stared at each other for what felt like forever, the dog not making any moves, and you certainly not trying to do anything to piss the dog off more.

As time went on, you started getting frustrated.

If this dog wanted to kill you, surely it would have by now.

What on earth was it doing?

Its piercing eyes were fixed on yours and you shivered.

Something about the way it was looking at you was, for lack of a better word, almost human.

“Hello?” you tried tentatively, not really knowing what to expect.

It tilted its head expectantly so you said the first thing that came to your mind.

“Good dog”

If a dog could look unimpressed, this one certainly did.

“You're heavy as fuck you know that?” you said, and to your utter shock, the dog nodded.

“Can... Can you understand me?”

The dog nodded again and you were so bewildered you didn't think before asking “Can you talk?”

The dog looked up at the ceiling, rolling its eyes as if to say “a talking dog? Really? Fucking idiot”.

Understandable.

“What are you?” you asked instead and the dog huffed in annoyance.

Right. If it can't talk then it can't fucking answer, dumbass.

“Do you live here?” you tried.

It nodded.

“Do you have a master?”

That was apparently the wrong thing to ask because it growled and bared its teeth at you.

“No, okay, sorry. Do you live here alone?”

It nodded again.

That didn't really make sense to you so you huffed out a frustrated laugh.

“What are you? Some kind of werewolf dog thing? Are you gonna turn into a man when the sun comes up?” You were clearly joking, but the dog nodded defiantly.

You froze.

“You- you're a werewolf?”

It nodded again.

You turned your head to look at the window, it was starting to get light out.

“You're going to turn into a man?”

It nodded.

Your eyes travelled over its body.

“Are you going to be naked?”

It narrowed its eyes and nodded slowly.

You gulped, for some reason that made you more nervous than the idea of being eaten.

You realised you'd said that out loud when the dog barked out a laugh.

Its features were getting more human by the minute, and he crawled off you in favour of rummaging through a pile of clothes.

He was slowly shrinking, fur getting shorter and shorter while his paws morphed into hands.

He grabbed a dressing gown and stuck his front legs (arms???) Through the sleeves and stood up.

He had his back to you so you couldn't see much, but his legs turned into human legs, albeit rather hairy ones, and the fur on his head grew until you realised it was actually his hair and that his ears had gone.

He turned around slowly.

He was indeed a man. A rather angry looking man, but a man none the less.

He stalked towards you and climbed onto the bed.

You'd been so weirded out by the whole experience you hadn't moved a muscle.

He straddled you and held you down, his hands on your shoulders like before, and snarled.

“Okay, now that I can talk, what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

A Spanish werewolf?

Okay sure, why not.

“Are you going to kill me?” you asked, voice trembling.

This insanely hot man was weirdly more terrifying than the giant dog.

He smirked as if reading your thoughts.

“That depends on your answer”

His voice was deep, and flowed like honey as it washed over you.

“I'm sorry. I was lost in the forest and I thought something was coming for me and I was scared so I came in ... I'm sorry I can just go and forget this ever happened”

That seemed to satisfy him and he let go of your shoulders, leaning back on his haunches as he took you in.

“You are lucky I did not find you in the forest last night. I would not have been able to hold myself back.”

A shiver ran through you. Somehow you had a feeling he wasn't talking about eating.

“So what are you going to do to me now?”

He licked his lips and his eyes darkened.

“I'm going to take my payment for being nice enough to let you go without eating you”

You gasped at his tone. His voice had dropped several octaves and his hands ran slowly up your sides.

He leaned over you close enough to whisper in your ear.

“And it's been a while since I had anyone trembling under me like this”

His delicate fingers came up to unbutton your shirt, popping the buttons one by one while nosing up your neck and jaw.

“Don't worry, hermosa. I'm going to make it good for you” his husky voice sent chills up your spine and you found yourself breathing heavier as his hands got lower.

He shuffled down your body, popping the button on your jeans before taking the zipper between his teeth and dragging it down, dark eyes never leaving yours.

Your body was overheating and you needed your clothes off now.

Suddenly he froze and a loud growl came from deep within him.

“I can smell you, you're fucking dripping for me”

He pressed his face to the crotch of your jeans and breathed in your scent that was driving him wild with lust.

He ripped your jeans off, tearing them at the seams and threw them across the room.

“Turn around” he rasped and you wasted no time doing so, settling on your elbows with your ass up in the air.

He groaned at the sight of you so pliant underneath him.

“Look at you presenting yourself like a bitch in heat for me”

You whined pathetically, wiggling your hips in an effort to make him do something, the heat between your legs becoming unbearable.

He ripped off your underwear easily and growled, pushing two fingers inside you easily.

It briefly sated something deep inside you, but it wasn't enough. You needed him to fill you up, stretch you to your limits, breed you until you couldn't walk.

You heard him huff out a laugh behind you.

“I am going to fill you up so good, nobody will ever be able to satisfy you like I can”

His tip breached you and you mewled, he felt so big already you were scared he would hurt you.

But once again, he read your mind.

“Don't worry, I will go slow... at first”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, invading your body as you tensed and quivered around him.

Once he was fully inside he let out a breath and draped himself over you, mouthing at your neck.

“You are doing so well, it is like you were made for me. Maybe I should keep you and fill you with my seed until it takes, hmm? Would you like that? Being the werewolf's little plaything?”

You moaned as he shifted inside you, getting ready to pound into you.

His lips hovered over a sensitive spot on your neck and licked over it, rough tongue making the skin tingle with light pain.

When you felt him place his teeth there you tensed up, feeling what he about to do a second before he did.

He sank his teeth in, piercing your skin painfully and at the same time thrusted his cock into you, the mix of pain and pleasure making you scream out.

He didn't stop the onslaught of his hips, and you squirmed but he held you in place with his weight and his teeth sinking further into your shoulder the more you moved.

It was animalistic, the way he held you in place while pounding into you with only one goal in mind: filling you up, claiming you as his.

The stretch of his cock inside your walls was delicious, the pleasure blinding you, making you almost push your hips back against him to take more.

You don't know why, but for some reason you trusted him completely, surrendering your body to him as you mind became fuzzy with need.

His hips sped up, increasing your pleasure and his, and it didn't take too long before you were clenching around him and riding out the waves of an orgasm.

He didn't stop though, his hips slapped against yours as he chased his own high.

Your body was on fire, overstimulated cunt being abused relentlessly while your shoulder burned and bled all over the sheets, the smell of it driving him wild and making him drive his hips into you even harder.

You were panting and moaning uncontrollably, all the sensations too much as you hurtled towards another orgasm, and this time your body went completely limp so he released your shoulder and lifted you upright so that he could pound into you from below, arms circling your waist and chest, one hand coming to hold your neck and expose your wound.

His tongue came out to lap at the blood dripping from it, licking over the bite possessively.

“Mine.” He growled and your orgasm washed over you, so intense that no sound came out as you trembled in his hold and he followed soon after, filling you up like he promised before laying you down flat.

He didn't soften though, and he kept thrusting into you gently, as you lay there unable to do anything but take it.

He slid a comforting hand up and down your back and you felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness as his cum leaked out of you and he just kept going.

“Go to sleep, hermosa. You are going to need it for tomorrow. I will keep filling you up while you rest.”

You fell asleep with a soft smile, and a cum filled pussy as he filled you, again and again, breeding you on his cock.

You woke with a start, stiff back protesting as you shot up in your seat.

You were in your car, parked exactly where you'd left it the day before.

Your clothes were intact and your camping gear was in the back seat.

You checked your phone.

It was midday of the day after your trip.

You felt yourself up, even slipping a hand down your pants.

Everything felt normal, not sore, or wet.

You didn't know how any of this was possible, but you knew you hadn't imagined last night.

You couldn't have, it was so vivid... and yet...

You looked around and saw nothing of note so you started the car, quickly finding a road and got out of the forest.

There was absolutely no proof of what had happened last night, you hadn't even caught the man's name, and you rang your best friend to tell her about it and she just laughed, saying you’d probably had some weird lucid dream.

But you knew in your heart what happened was real.

The sun was almost blinding you as you drove so you pulled down the sun guard.

You almost crashed the car when you caught a glimpse of your neck in the small mirror.

You emergency parked on the side of the road and stared at your reflection.

There, clear as day, were clear teeth marks imprinted in your skin.

They were fresh, but as you prodded the wound with your finger, there was no pain whatsoever.

What there was instead was a dull ache.

The ache came from deep inside you, like a yearning.

You felt like you were going to burst into tears, and you didn't even know why.

What you did know, is that you had to find him again. You had to.

I will find you, you thought desperately.

Something purred inside you contentedly, a warm feeling settling in your chest.

A deep voice echoed in the back of your mind.

‘I'll be waiting’...

#my thots #halloween event #carlos thots #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz #f1 #formula 1

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darlinluxx · 3 days ago

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𝐉𝐄𝐉𝐔 | 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐀𝐄 𝐁𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐊 ౨ৎ

pairing : saebyeok x fem!reader

fluff

warnings : mention of death

a/n : takes place after the games and she won them (ofc) bc she deserved to go to jeju island :((

summary : you and your girlfriend go on a vacation to jeju island after she won the games

if you have any requests, feel free to message me <3

𝐓he salt spray kissed Saebyeok’s face, a stark constraint to the grime of Seoul she’d left behind. the ferry chugged towards Jeju Island, a green hump on the horizon, and she found her fingers interlaced with yours. after everything — after the games, the death, the money, the nightmares — she still found herself clinging to the tangible, the real. and you were as real as it got.

“you okay?” your voice was soft, a balm to the lingering tension Saebyeok still carried. your hand squeezed hers gently, your thumb tracing circles on Saebyeok’s skin.

Saebyeok nodded, her gaze fixed on the churning water. “just trying to relax.” the words felt foreign on her tongue. relaxing was a luxury she’d never been afforded.

the money had been life-altering, yes. it had moved her brother to a nicer foster home, secured the apartment she dreamt of. but it hadn’t erased the ghosts of the rooms, the faces of those she’d lost. it just meant she could afford to take her and you to Jeju Island for a long overdue break.

you, ever preceptive, didn’t push. you knew Saebyeok’s silence better than anyone. instead, you just leaned your head on Saebyeok’s shoulder, the warmth of her body a comforting presence.

Jeju Island was a sensory overload. the air, thick with the scent of sea and volcanic rock, was cleaner, lighter than Seoul’s concrete jungle. the vibrant green of the canopies clashed beautifully with the deep blue of the ocean. you two rented a small cottage overlooking the coast, far from the tourist traps.

the first few days were spent exploring. the two of you hiked along jagged coastlines, the wind whipping through your hair, and dipped your toes in the cool, clear waters of hidden beaches. Saebyeok, usually reserved and quiet, surprised herself by laughing freely as you chased her with a sand-covered crab. she learned to identify different types of seaweed and collected smooth, black volcanic stones, feeling the weight of them in her palm, a different kind of weight than she was used to.

you two ate incredibly fresh seafood at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, the pungent aroma filling the air. you found yourself spending hours sketching the breathtaking landscapes, your fingers flying across the page, capturing the essence of the island with charcoal and watercolors. Saebyeok would watch you, a rare, soft expression on her face, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest that went beyond the Jeju sun.

at night, the two of you would sit on the porch, watching the stars explode across the inky sky. you would tell stories of constellations, of star-crossed lovers and celestial battles, your voice a soft, soothing hum. Saebyeok would listen as you rested your head on her shoulder, the sound of the waves a lullaby in the background.

one particular evening, as the moon hung like a silver coin in the sky, you took Saebyeok’s hand and held it tight. “you know,” you began, your voice hesitant, “i’m glad we’re here. i was worried after everything, if you’d ever…”

Saebyeok turned to look at you, her dark eyes shimmering in the moonlight. “ever what?”

“ever feel safe again,” you whispered, your gaze searching Saebyeok’s face.

Saebyeok closed her eyes for a moment, letting the words sink in. she thought of the cold, sterile prison of the room, the constant fear, the unending struggle. and then she looked at you, at the light in your eyes, the steady hand that held hers.

she finally opened her eyes and said, her voice low and honest, “i do now.”

she didn’t say “because of you.” she didn’t have to. you knew. you saw it in the slight upturn of Saebyeok’s lips, in the way her grip tightened around your hand.

the trip to Jeju Island was more than just a vacation. it was a healing balm for your souls, a chance to breathe, to remember what it felt like to be human again. it wasn’t a cure, the past would always be a part of you two. but here, on this beautiful island, surrounded by the love you shared, you found the space to begin piecing yourselves back together. here, in each other, you found hope. and that, for Saebyeok, was way more precious than any prize money.

#kang sae byeok #kang saebyeok #sae byeok #saebyeok #kang sae byeok x reader #kang saebyeok x reader #sae byeok x reader #saebyeok x reader #squid game x reader #squid game

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ateezscupid · 2 months ago

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Can I request an Ateez Vampire Yeosang x reader where it's her first time everything? First time orgasm, first time squirt so he makes her squirt a couple times, first time having sex and she bleeds and freaks so he helps her and calms her through it? Very smutty and extremely fluffy?

Probably the smuttiest thing I've written with Yeosang ever????

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬. ♡

warnings ─ medieval au, vamp!yeosang, human!fem reader, implication of turning reader into a vampire (doesn't happen, but yeosang does bite reader on the neck twice), yeosang and reader are married, fluff

tags ─ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13 @mingitheskzstan @jeonride

m.list ┃ nsfw warnings under the cut.

warnings ─ soft!dom yeosang, sub!reader, loss of virginity, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise and degradation, pet names, unprotected sex, overstimulation, squirting, mention of pee (no, not in the nasty way LOL)

Yeosang sat on the sprawling porch of your ancient mansion, the sun's warm embrace barely peeking through the dense canopy of the surrounding forest. He nursed a cup of tea, the delicate porcelain warming his fingertips as he held it with a gentle grip. The newspaper lay folded beside him, forgotten as his gaze drifted to the garden, his girlfriend worked with a quiet determination. You had your back to him, your slender form moving rhythmically as you tended to the blooming flowers. Your hair was pulled back in a loose bun, and every so often, a tendril would escape, dancing in the gentle breeze. The sight of you filled him with a sense of peace and a yearning that was both new and familiar.

Your movements were graceful, a silent pattern of care and dedication that spoke of your love for the earth and the life it nurtured. Yeosang felt his chest tighten, his fangs throb gently in response to the allure of your humanity. He set the tea and newspaper aside, the rustle of the pages a small rebellion against the serene quiet of the afternoon. Slowly, he rose from his chair, his long shadow stretching out before him as he descended the porch steps.

The soft scent of blooming roses filled the air as he approached you, your crimson petals a stark contrast to your skin. He could hear the distant sound of bees industriously collecting nectar, a gentle hum that seemed to echo the thrum of his own pulse. When he reached you, he didn't say a word. Instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close so that you could feel the beat of his heart against your back.

You stiffened for a moment, your gardening sheers hovering in midair, before relaxing into his embrace. Your cheeks flushed a delicate pink, a color that stood out starkly against the emerald of your eyes. You leaned back into him, your head tilting slightly to the side as you looked up at him with a shy smile. "What is it?" you asked, your voice a soft melody that made him want to pull you even closer.

Yeosang leaned down, his breath a whisper against your ear. "Just watching you," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're so beautiful." He felt the rapid flutter of your heartbeat, a tantalizing reminder of the life that flowed through your veins. He resisted the urge to bite, instead pressing a gentle kiss to your neck. You giggled, the sound music to his centuries-old ears.

You stood there for a moment, basking in the simple pleasure of each other's company. Then, Yeosang spoke again, his words a soft coax. "Take a break," he suggested. "Come inside with me." You hesitated, your hands still clutching the sheers, but the desire in his voice was palpable. After a moment, you nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the garden and into the dimly lit mansion. The door closed with a soft click behind them, leaving the outside world and its mundane tasks at bay.

In the cool interior of the house, Yeosang led you up the grand staircase, his steps silent on the plush carpet that lined the steps. You made your way to the master bedroom, a sanctuary of velvet and lace that smelled faintly of your mingled scents. He could feel the anticipation building within you, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that made his fangs throb in anticipation.

Once inside, you pulled away from his embrace and danced over to the walk-in closet, your eyes scanning the racks of clothes. Yeosang leaned against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a smoldering gaze. "What are you looking for?" he asked, his tone playful.

"Something to wear tonight," you replied, your cheeks still flushed from your earlier encounter. You pulled out a few garments, holding them up to the light that streamed through the stained-glass window. Each piece was a whisper of fabric that promised to leave little to the imagination, and Yeosang felt his heart race at the thought of you wearing them.

He pushed himself off the frame, stalking closer to you with a predatory grace that made your pulse quicken. "Why bother with clothes?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "You're already the most beautiful thing in this room." He took a garment from your hand, a delicate piece of black lace, and let it slide through his fingers. You giggled, swatting his hand away and hiding your face in his chest.

With a playful growl, Yeosang wrapped his arms around you again, lifting you off the floor and spinning you around. You squealed in surprise and delight, your laughter echoing through the room. He set you down, your feet barely touching the plush rug before he captured your mouth in a hungry kiss. His fangs grazed your lower lip, and you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. He could feel your heart racing, the sweet scent of your arousal mixing with the earthy smell of the garden soil that clung to your skin.

Your kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Yeosang backed you towards the bed. You stumbled slightly, your hands clutching at his shirt. He broke away, his eyes searching yours for permission, for the confirmation that you were ready for what was to come. When you nodded, your eyes wide and trusting, he felt a surge of love and desire that was almost overwhelming.

Gently, he laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he began to remove your gardening clothes. Each layer revealed more of your smooth skin, and he couldn't resist the urge to kiss and nibble the soft flesh he uncovered. Your breath hitched as his fangs grazed your collarbone, and you arched your back, inviting him to continue. The tension in the air grew thick, a heady mix of excitement and nerves.

"Your skin is like porcelain," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with desire as he unbuttoned your blouse. "Soft, delicate, and begging to be touched." He peeled back the fabric, his eyes drinking in the sight of your lacy bra, the cups a delicate cradle for the treasures beneath. "These…" He trailed off, his fingertips tracing the edge of the lace. "They hide the most beautiful parts of you." With a flick of his wrist, the bra was gone, your breasts spilling free. He took one in his hand, his thumb brushing over your erect nipple. You gasped, your back arching off the bed.

"And these…" He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your stomach. "These curves drive me wild." He tugged at the waistband of your trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. "Every inch of you is perfection, and I want to worship it all." Your hands trembled as you helped him, sliding the fabric over your hips and revealing the matching lace of your panties.

When you were naked before him, Yeosang sat back on his haunches, his eyes roving over your body with a reverence reserved for the most sacred of artifacts. He took your hand in his, his gaze intense. "Are you sure, my love?" His thumb traced the veins that pulsed with your life beneath your skin. "Once you give yourself to me, there's no turning back. You'll be mine, forever."

Your eyes searched his, finding the love and protection you craved. You nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "I'm ready. I trust you." The weight of your words hung in the air, a silent promise that bound you together in ways you hadn't yet fully comprehended. But you knew that you wanted this, needed this connection with him more than you'd ever needed anything.

Yeosang took a deep breath, his chest expanding with the gravity of what was about to happen. He leaned in, his fangs grazing the soft skin of your neck. "If you change your mind, you know you can tell me." He kissed your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your sweetness. "But know that once we start, I'll crave more than just your blood." His voice grew softer, a seductive purr that sent shivers down your spine. "I'll want your body, your soul… everything that makes you, you."

Your pulse raced at his words, your heart fluttering like a caged bird. You nodded again, more firmly this time. "I'm ready," you repeated, your voice stronger, more assured. "I want this. I want you."

He smiled, a soft, tender curve of his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good," he said, his voice a dark promise. "Because I've wanted this for so long." With that, he leaned down, his fangs sinking gently into the flesh of your neck. You gasped, your body stiffening before melting into the bed beneath him. The coppery taste of your blood filled his mouth, a symphony of sensation that made his head spin. He drank, savoring each drop, as he continued to tease and explore your body with his hands.

Your legs parted for him, an unspoken invitation that he couldn't resist. He kissed his way down your torso, his hands skimming over your hips, your thighs, before finally reaching your core. His eyes widened at the sight of you. You were a vision of innocence and desire, your pink flesh glistening with need. He leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste you, to learn the secrets of your body. Your hips jerked, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"You taste like heaven," he whispered, his voice muffled against your sensitive skin as he traced the seam of your sex with his tongue. You gripped the bed sheets, your knuckles turning white as you fought to hold onto reality. "Every part of you, so sweet, so perfect." His words were a gentle caress against your soul as he explored you with an almost reverent hunger.

Your body responded to his touch in a symphony of sensation. Each flick of his tongue, each suck of his lips, sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, threatening to drown you in a sea of ecstasy. Incoherent sounds tumbled from your mouth, a mix of whimpers and moans that grew louder as he worked his magic.

"Do you like this?" he asked, his eyes looking up at you, filled with a fiery need. You nodded, unable to form coherent words as he swirled his tongue around the swollen bud of your clit. "I love making you feel this way," he said, his voice a low growl. "You're so responsive, so beautiful."

Your hips began to rock against his mouth, a silent plea for more. He obliged, his tongue pressing harder, his strokes becoming more insistent. You could feel the tension building within you, a coil winding tighter and tighter with each pass of his mouth. Your breath hitched, your chest heaving as you approached the edge of something you'd never felt before.

And then you were there, teetering on the brink, the world around you fading into a blur of sensation. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he watched your body convulse, your first orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tempest. You cried out his name, the sound echoing through the bedroom and sending a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He lapped at you, savoring your sweet release, his own need growing with each tremor that wracked your frame.

As your climax subsided, Yeosang moved up your body, kissing and nibbling along the way. He hovered over you, his eyes a dark, endless pool of desire. "Again," he whispered, his fangs retracted but the hunger in his gaze was unmistakable. "I want to feel you come apart for me again."

Your eyes were glazed with passion, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson. "I-I don't know if I can," you murmured, your voice tremulous with the aftershocks of pleasure. But Yeosang knew you better than you knew yourself, and he recognized the challenge in your words. He kissed you, his tongue delving into your mouth, sharing your taste with you. You moaned into the kiss, your body already responding to his command.

He slid two fingers inside you, his thumb circling your clit with the same rhythm that had driven your over the edge moments before.

"Good girl," he praised, his tone low and seductive. "You're so wet for me."

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you couldn't deny the truth of them. Your body was responding to him in a way that was utterly foreign, and yet it felt so incredibly right. You bit your lower lip, trying to keep your moans of pleasure from escaping as he grew bolder, his strokes becoming more insistent.

You bucked against his hand, your nails digging into his shoulders as you sought purchase. He felt you tighten around him, your breath coming in short gasps. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice a gentle rumble. Your eyes snapped open, locking with his, and he watched the realization dawn in them as you felt the beginnings of another climax building.

"Yeah, baby, that's it," he murmured, his praise sending a jolt of pleasure through you. "You're so beautiful when you come."

The way he talked to you, the way he touched you, it was all so overwhelming. You felt a mix of pleasure and a hint of something else, something darker that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It was as if he was claiming you, marking you as his own with every stroke and every syllable of praise that slipped from his lips. And you liked it, more than you cared to admit.

Your breathing grew ragged, and you could feel the tension building inside you like a storm about to break. Your eyes went wide as you felt a sudden, unfamiliar sensation building in your lower abdomen. Your body began to quake as a second, more powerful orgasm ripped through you like a bolt of lightning. He knew it too, his eyes burning into yours as he whispered, "You're going to come for me, aren't you?"

It was both a question and a command, and you found yourself nodding frantically, your hips rising off the bed to meet his hand. His fingers moved faster, pressing harder, and you could feel the dam about to burst.

"You're going to squirt for me," he said, his voice a dark promise. "I want to feel it, baby."

"Yeosang," you stutter trying to form a sentence. "I-I feel like--" you felt embarrassed to say it.

"You feel like you're going to come," he finishes for you, his voice a smug whisper. "It's alright. Just let go."

"I-I feel like peeing-," you mumble. "S-Stop, I don't-"

"Shh," he hushes, his thumb circling your clit with a maddening precision. "It's not pee, it's your body's natural response to pleasure." His voice is soothing, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches you closely. "Trust me, it's going to feel amazing."

"Squirt for me."

The word "squirt" was like a trigger, and you felt your body tighten around his fingers as the most intense pleasure you'd ever experienced washed over you. It was as if you'd been holding your breath for an eternity and were finally allowed to exhale. You cried out, your eyes squeezed shut as you rode the wave, feeling your muscles spasm and release in a delicious, liquid rush. A rush of liquid spilled from you, soaking the sheets beneath you. You could feel the warmth spreading between your thighs, a sensation that was both shocking and exhilarating. Yeosang's eyes widened in surprise and delight as he watched your body respond.

The release is unlike anything you've ever felt before, a mix of pleasure and relief that leaves you panting and trembling. Yeosang's eyes are wide with excitement, his fangs peeking out slightly as he watches you come apart in his arms. He pulls his hand away, his fingers glistening with your arousal, and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean.

Your eyes widen as you watch him, the realization of what just happened finally sinking in. "Oh my god," you whisper, your voice shaky. "What was that?"

"That," he says with a smug smile, "was your body giving in to me." He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. "You're mine now, in every way that counts."

"Now stay still," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "You're so perfect. Doing so good for me. Let me help you finish." He didn't stop his ministrations, instead, his thumb pressed harder, his fingers moving faster as he coaxed another wave of pleasure from your trembling form. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, a delicious pressure that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head.

The feeling grew more intense, the warm liquid continuing to spill out of you until you were sure you would drown in it. Yeosang's eyes gleamed with excitement as he watched you, his own arousal evident in the hard line of his cock pressed against your thigh. He leaned down, his tongue darting out to taste the newfound wetness, a growl of pleasure rumbling in his chest.

The intimacy of the moment was almost too much to bear. Your body was laid bare before him, a canvas of passion and need. But instead of feeling embarrassed or shy, you felt powerful, like you had unlocked some ancient, primal part of yourself that had been waiting for this very moment.

He kissed you deeply, the taste of your own release on his lips a heady aphrodisiac that only served to fan the flames of your desire. Your hips rocked against his hand, your body begging for more, even as you felt the last tremors of your second orgasm fade.

When you opened your eyes again, you found him watching you, his gaze filled with love and an almost tangible hunger. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle despite the urgency in his touch.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice shaky with pleasure. "More than okay. That was… incredible."

He smiled, his fangs peeking out slightly as he kissed you again. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered, his eyes dark with need. "Now, let me show you what else I can do."

He slid his hand away, and you felt a moment of loss before he positioned himself between your legs. His cock nudged at your entrance, and you gasped at the sheer size of him. But you were so wet, so ready, that you knew you could take him.

With a gentle push, he entered you, the sensation of him filling you, unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You tensed for a moment, pain ripping through your body. He paused, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress, his concern clear even in the throes of his own passion. "You're okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"I…" you went silent, your hands reaching for his forearm. He watched you intently, the love in his gaze almost too much to handle as you felt a sudden rush of wetness between your legs, not just from your arousal, but the blood that accompanied your first time. The sight of it made you panic, and you looked up at him with wide, scared eyes. "What's happening?" you whispered, your voice shaking.

Yeosang leaned down, his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. "It's okay," he soothed, his voice calm and steady. "It's just a little blood. It's normal." He kissed you gently, tasting the hint of fear in your mouth. "I'm with you," he assured you, his hands moving to gently cup your cheeks. "I'll never hurt you."

Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, your eyes never leaving his. He pushed in a little further, your body stretching around him, and you bit your bottom lip to stifle a gasp. It hurt, but you didn't want him to stop. You could feel him, so deep inside you, and you knew that you were his, forever. The pain was a strange sort of pleasure, a reminder of the bond you were forming.

As he began to move, your eyes drifted shut, and you focused on the feeling of him inside you. The pain began to recede, replaced by a deep, insatiable need that grew with every stroke. Your body felt alive in a way it never had before, your muscles tightening around him like a vice.

"You feel so good, my love," Yeosang murmured, his voice thick with passion as he began to move within you, his strokes slow and gentle at first. He watched your face, your expressions a tapestry of pain and pleasure that painted a picture of the virginity you were giving to him. He knew he had to be careful, had to make sure you enjoyed this moment, that you felt comfortable and loved.

Your nails dug into his arms, but you didn't push him away. Instead, you clung to him, your body adjusting to the new sensation as he continued to move, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder than the last. The blood had stopped, but the memory of it made him ache for more, made him want to claim you fully. But he held back, knowing that this was your moment, your first time, and he needed to make it perfect for you.

Your breathing grew ragged as you began to move with him, your hips rising to meet his. He kissed you, his fangs grazing your lower lip as he tasted the lingering fear that mingled with the sweetness of your blood. "You're mine," he murmured against your mouth, his voice a dark promise that sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you nodded, your voice a soft whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours."

The words seemed to unleash something within him, a primal need held in check by his love and respect for you. He began to move faster, his hips slapping against yours as he claimed you in the most intimate way possible. You moaned, your nails now raking down his back as you arched into him, your body begging for more.

Yeosang could feel his own release building, the pressure at the base of his spine growing unbearable. He reached down, his thumb finding your clit, and began to rub it in tight circles.

Your eyes shot open, and you stared at him, your pupils dilated with lust. "Yeosang," you gasped, his name a plea on your lips.

He leaned in, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "You're so tight, so wet," he whispered, his words hot against your skin. "You're going to feel so good when I come inside you."

Your body tensed, your nails digging into his back as you tried to hold onto the last shreds of your sanity. But it was no use. His words, his touch, it was all too much, and you felt yourself hurtling towards another climax. This one was different, though. It was as if your entire being was coiled tightly, ready to snap.

"Oh god," you whimpered, your hips bucking up to meet him. "I'm going to come again."

He grinned, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Do it," he urged, his voice a dark caress. "Come for me, baby. Show me how much you like it."

With a strangled cry, you did just that. Your body spasmed around him, your muscles clenching as you came harder than you ever had before.

Yeosang watched you with a mix of awe and pride, his own climax a distant thunderstorm on the horizon of his pleasure. He knew he could keep you on this precipice for hours if he wanted to, but he also knew that this was your first time, and he didn't want to push your too far too soon. So, with a gentle kiss to your forehead, he pulled out, your juices coating his cock in a warm, sticky mess.

He sat up, his eyes never leaving yours, and reached for a pillow behind you. Carefully, he placed it under your hips, elevating you to the perfect angle. He kept your thighs spread, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he positioned himself above your once more. The pillow made your feel even more exposed, more vulnerable, and you bit your lip as you watched him enter your again.

This time, his movements were more deliberate, his strokes slower and deeper. You could feel every inch of him, the veins of his cock pulsing with each thrust. The pain had mostly subsided, leaving behind a deep, all-consuming need that you hadn't known existed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer, your heels digging into his back.

Your eyes remained locked as he began to move again, his hips rolling into yours in a rhythm that was as old as time.

His hand slid from your thigh to your lower stomach, his fingers pressing down firmly, guiding your movements, setting the pace. You gasped as the pressure built, your nails digging into his back as you felt the beginnings of a third orgasm coiling within you. Yeosang watched you with an almost painful hunger, his eyes dark with desire.

Your words grew more desperate, more explicit with each passing second. "H-Harder," you begged, your voice a needy whine. "D-Don't stop, please, don't ever stop..." He could feel his own climax approaching, a warm tingle at the base of his spine, but he held back, determined to give you everything you needed.

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss as his hand moved lower, his fingers sliding through your wetness to find your clit. He circled it with the same rhythm as his hips, feeling your body tighten around him. The dirtiness of your pleas only fueled his desire, his own moans growing louder as he felt your body responding to his touch.

Your movements grew erratic, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as the room filled with the sounds of your passion. Yeosang's whispers grew more heated, his words a delicious mix of sweet praise and dark need. "You're so tight," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "So wet and perfect for me." His fangs grazed the soft skin of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Your moans grew louder, your breath coming in ragged gasps as he continued to push you closer to the edge. "You're going to come again, aren't you?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You're going to scream my name as I fuck you so hard you forget your own." His words were a heady mix of love and possession, and you couldn't help but respond to them, your body arching off the bed as you neared climax once more.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a seductive purr. "T-Take it, take everything I give you." He thrust harder, his fingers working in tandem with his cock, pushing you over the edge. Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you let out a scream of pleasure, your nails raking down his back.

Your body convulsed around him, your pussy clenching in a vice-like grip as you came for a third time, your orgasm shaking you to your very core. Yeosang watched you with a mix of love and hunger, his own release just out of reach. He knew he was close, his body trembling with the effort to hold back, but he wanted to make sure you were satisfied beyond all measure before he gave in to his own needs.

With a gentle but firm hand, he rolled you onto your stomach, your ass in the air, and your cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. You whimpered, your body still sensitive from your previous climaxes, but the position was one of submission and trust, and you knew he would never hurt you. He kissed the back of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You could feel his cock, still hard and slick with your arousal, pressing against your thigh.

He reached around you, his hand finding your clit again, his fingers resuming your relentless dance. You moaned, your hips moving involuntarily as you felt the beginnings of another climax coil within you. It was too much, you thought, your body couldn't possibly take any more. But you were wrong. Each touch, each stroke, brought you closer to the precipice once more.

"Y-Yeosang," you cry out, your face now falling into the pillows. "T-Too much--"

"Never too much," he whispers, his voice thick with need. He slides into you from behind, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You feel filled and complete like you're made for this. His hand moves to your hip, his grip firm, guiding your movements as he begins to thrust. You push back into him, the angle hitting your g-spot with precision, making you moan into the fabric.

Your rhythm builds, your bodies moving together like you're one entity. You're lost in the sensations, your mind a whirlwind of pleasure. You've never felt so alive, so utterly consumed by someone else. His teeth graze your shoulder, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. You know what's coming, but the anticipation only makes you wetter.

"I need you," he says, his voice strained. "I need all of you."

The words send a shiver down your spine. You nod, your voice lost in the symphony of pleasure. He sinks his fangs into your neck, the pain sharp and brief. The taste of your blood fills his mouth, and it's like nothing he's ever known. He groans, his hips moving faster as he drinks from you, feeling your pulse against his tongue. You gasp, your body tightening around him, and he knows you're close.

With a final, desperate push, he feels your orgasm ripple through you, your pussy clenching around him like a fist. It's all the encouragement he needs. He pulls out of you, his cock pulsing with his own release. He comes all over your back, the warmth of his cum mixing with the sticky wetness between your legs.

For a moment, you're both still, panting, your hearts racing in tandem. Then, Yeosang pulls you into his arms, turning you so you're nestled against his chest. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. His tongue laps at the wound on your neck, healing it with his saliva. You shiver, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure.

"How was it?" he asks, his voice gentle.

"It was…" you trail off, trying to find the words. "A-Amazing," you finally say, your voice a whisper. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

He smiles, his eyes shining with love. "I'm glad I could be the one to show you." He runs his hand through your hair, his thumb brushing against your cheek.

"But we're not done yet."

#cupids asks and submits ♡#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #dom ateez #dom!ateez #yeosang smut #dom yeosang #dom!yeosang #dom idol #dom!idol

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bluetoes-andstuff · 4 months ago

Text

A Hidden Desire

Chapter 1 - Curious Fascination

Summary: Caesar rarely has time to reflect, and when he does he always finds himself falling down this same path...

Rating: T (Eventual NSFW)

Word Count: 2.5k

Relationships: Eventual Caesar x Fem!Human Reader

Warnings: mentions animal mating, and sexual themes

Next Chapter

***If you are under 18 I would advise not reading, this is not an explicit chapter but this will be a story that explores nsfw themes later on. Best to just not go down the path to begin with. Be safe***

Caesar sat alone outside his nest, legs hanging over the edge of the porch wrapped around his home. The early morning sun filtered through the canopy of trees below, casting dappled shadows on the floor of the colony, a mosaic of light and dark as his people began to awake. It was in these quiet moments, away from the watchful eyes of his fellow apes, that Caesar allowed himself to ponder his life thus far. And despite his attempts to stray from the thoughts, more often than not lately, his mind was drawn towards the mystery of humanity.

Perhaps it was the absence of humans that had drawn this interest, or maybe it was a slow build of his pent-up, biological desires. Despite the scars of betrayal and the bitter memories of conflict, a stubborn fascination with humans lingered in Caesar's heart. It was a curiosity born not of naivety, but of a deep, unshakable connection to his past. Raised by a human father, Caesar had been nurtured with love and compassion, qualities he had come to cherish and emulate. It's what has contributed to his success as a leader and guide for ape kind.

Caesar knows who he is… he is an ape; he is not human. He is proud of where he is and how far he and his people have come. They’ve established their own community and developed a society. And he has the right to take full responsibility for all of it. Yet, there were still moments when Caesar found himself longing for the simple human experiences he once shared with his father. He missed the quiet evenings spent reading books together, the way his father’s voice would bring the stories to life. He missed the warmth of a home, the smell of fresh cooking, and the classical piano music that would echo through the halls during rainy days. These memories were bittersweet, a reminder of a time when the world, to him, seemed simpler, and the lines between ape and human were not so starkly drawn.

Despite these things he missed, he was still able to look back, smile, and move forward with his day, knowing that this was exactly where he was meant to be. There were other things though, about humanity, that had always drawn upon a certain kind of curiosity, even to this day. A curiosity and fascination that he was never quite able to quench even when he lived with his human family. He had been too young to fully grasp the concept at the time. He was just coming to the age where his body yearned for that understanding and developed interest when everything began to fall apart.

Humans had intriguing courting rituals. The displays of affection he saw between his father and mother were just commonplace when he was growing up with them. He assumed it was normal, but it most definitely was not. His years with his own kind have been enlightening for him. All those things he saw among humans, being through courting, affection, even mating… he assumed he would one day experience that as well, but these rituals were not normal amongst his kind.

He had held onto that desire to understand, know, and feel those same things he had witnessed among not just his parents, but the other humans he had seen on television, in books, and in the videos he had begun to stumble across in his curious search for answers. He’s come to realize that the only way to fully understand those feelings would be to experience it himself… but at this point it was simply out of the question. Humans have been gone for a long time, and he had his people to worry about, he couldn’t get distracted by some human-indoctrinated fantasy. He’s come to accept that.

During their first year in Muir Woods, he had done his fair share of “messing around” as humans would say, trying to find a proper mate to fulfill those human needs he was still clinging to, but there hadn’t been a single one that had been capable of satiating him. They didn’t make the noises like he was hoping, and out of all the ones he’d taken back to his nest, only Cornelia had agreed to lie on her back while he had his way with her, she did not question him like the others had with his odd request… The ordeal had been uncomfortable, and she had squirmed far too much for there to have been any enjoyment. And every time… It was short. By the time he was beginning to feel that urgency and burn in his gut, the females were no longer interested. There was no intimacy or “foreplay” as humans say.

None of it was human like he craved.

It took him some time, but he had to accept that the desires held in his heart were not meant to be fulfilled. It was an unnatural feeling he craved as an ape and he could not jeopardize the apes’ future for his silly human-influenced lust.

So, Caesar married Cornelia more out of the convenience of friendship than love. They were well acquainted with each other, and as the leader, he was expected to take on a mate to produce an heir. Cornelia was strong and kind, qualities that made her a fitting partner in the eyes of the colony. Her frequent respect and loyalty without question to Caesar opened a door for him that brought enough satiation to distract him from his human feelings. She was always willing to appeal to his odd human fantasies even without knowledge of where he got such wild ideas.

Their relationship had been one of mutual respect and understanding. Cornelia had always supported Caesar’s leadership, offering wise counsel and a steady presence. She understood the burdens he carried and stood by him through the many trials they faced. Though their bond was not one of passionate love, it was built on a foundation of trust and shared responsibility.

She bore him twin sons, Blue Eyes and Cornelius. The birth of his sons was a moment of joy, but it was also marked by profound sorrow, as Cornelia did not survive the ordeal. Twins amongst chimpanzees were extremely rare as well as extremely dangerous for the mother. It was a surprise marked with excitement and dread, both parents knowing the cost it may have.

Caesar mourned for her deeply, not just for the loss of a companion, but for the future they might have shared. Her death left a void in his heart, a reminder of the fragility of life and the sacrifices made in the name of survival. Now, with the weight of leadership pressing down on him, Caesar faced the expectation to find another mate. Yet, he had no desire to choose from among the apes in his colony. His heart was not ready to open again, and the memories of his human upbringing made the prospect even more complicated; those feelings and desires that have chased him his entire life resurfacing.

He twisted around to glance inside his hut to see both his sons still fast asleep. They were curled around each other, Cornelius’ head tucked up beneath Blue Eyes' chin. Caesar felt a pang of longing. He wanted to give them the same warmth and security he had known as a child. The legacy of his father, the human who had raised him, loomed large in his mind. A legacy of love and understanding, one that he hoped to pass on to Blue Eyes and Cornelius, even as he navigated the complexities of his own heart.

He doesn’t picture ever being able to bring another female into his life like he did their mother, there being no foundation of attraction or desire, nor a mutual respect like he and Cornelia did. Yet, he knew that for the sake of his sons and his people, he would need to find a way to reconcile his past with the future that lay ahead. Eventually, he will have to find another mate… a Queen like the colony deserves… and a mother like his sons deserve.

Caesar watched the sun continue to rise above the canopy of trees, lost in his never-ending thoughts. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of birds provided a soothing backdrop to his reflections.

Suddenly, a familiar presence approached from behind, taking a seat beside him. Rocket looks sideways at him with a kind smile, and Caesar returns it, lifting his arm to place it around his friend’s shoulders.

“Thinking about the past again?” Rocket signs.

Caesar nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he turned away to look over the trees once more. Rocket had a way of lightening the mood, even in the heaviest of moments.

“You know, it’s been a couple of winters since Cornelia…” He hesitated, then continued with a teasing grin. “Maybe it’s time you found someone new?”

Caesar’s smile faded slightly. He appreciated Rocket’s concern, but the idea of going through the process of finding another mate felt distant and unappealing. He signed back, his movements deliberate and calm.

“I’m not interested, Rocket.”

Rocket raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. He signed back with exaggerated gestures, trying to coax a different response.

“Come on, there are plenty of females in the colony. Strong, kind, beautiful…” He paused, then added with a gleam in his eye, “And they all admire you.”

Caesar shook his head, his expression serious. He appreciated Rocket’s efforts, but his heart wasn’t in it. He signed slowly, choosing his words carefully.

“I’m well over Cornelia. It’s not about her. I just… don’t feel that way about anyone here.”

Rocket’s playful demeanor shifted to one of concern. He signed back, his movements slower and more thoughtful.

“But why? What’s wrong?”

Caesar hesitated. He knew Rocket wouldn’t understand the full depth of his feelings, the complex mix of his human thoughts and desires, and the expectations of his role as leader. It is not something he thinks he can repress twice over. He signed back, his movements gentle but firm.

“It’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

Rocket looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. He didn’t push further, sensing that this was a boundary Caesar wasn’t ready to cross. Instead, he offered a supportive smile and signed back.

“Alright, my friend. Just know that we’re here for you, no matter what… If you ever have certain needs…. Without wanting a mate, we can work something out.”

Caesar nodded, grateful for Rocket’s understanding, and amused at the irony of his suggestion. As his friend turned to leave, Caesar grunted. His time of reflection has ended, and the quest to begin the day's chores is soon to begin.

Caesar walked into the colony, where the other apes were busy with their daily tasks. The air was filled with the sounds of chatter and activity, indicative of the thriving community they had built. Caesar felt proud as he observed their bustling life. As he navigated through the colony, he received respect and admiration from those he passed. The apes looked up to him not just as their leader, but as a symbol of hope and promise for their future. He paused by the central fire, where Maurice was tending to the flames.

“Caesar, you seem troubled this morning.”

Caesar sighed, sitting down beside Maurice. He had never spoken outright about his ‘problem’, but he had a strong suspicion that Maurice already had a general idea. He had seen the way Caesar had looked at human women, and he had been the one Caesar spoke to about his frustration with ape mating rituals. The orangutan was wise and perceptive, sometimes a bit more so than Caesar would like. But at a time like this, having a friend to speak with about his problem, however discreet it was the way they spoke, it brought on some relief. He signed slowly, his movements reflecting the weight of his thoughts.

“Rocket thinks I should find another mate. He doesn’t understand why I can’t.”

Maurice nodded, his eyes filled with an understanding deeper than another ape would reflect about this issue. He signed back, his gestures calm and reassuring, speaking prudently just as Caesar did.

“It’s not easy to move on from the past. But sometimes you must follow your heart, Caesar, despite how you may think it will look to others.”

Caesar felt a relief wash over him unlike any other he’d felt before. Hearing his dear friend’s indirect approval and understanding helped distinguish the guilt and disgust he’s felt towards himself since coming to the woods.

“Thank you, Maurice. I know I will never be able to act on my feelings, but hearing your words of acceptance brings me relief.”

Maurice smiled, placing a hand on Caesar’s shoulder. The fire crackled softly, casting a warm glow over them. At that moment, Caesar felt a sense of peace. He knew that the journey ahead would be challenging, but he was not alone. This was something he could get past. He has matured very much through the years, he is capable of putting his desires behind him for the sake of his sons and his people.

The tranquility of the moment was interrupted by the sudden arrival of Koba’s scouting party. The group of apes, led by Koba’s most trusted scouts, moved swiftly through the colony. Caesar and Maurice exchanged a glance before rising to meet them.

The lead scout, a burly ape named Grey, signed quickly, his movements sharp and precise.

“Caesar, we found something. A small human camp, not far from here.”

Caesar’s eyes narrowed, his mind racing. The presence of humans so close to their territory was a cause for concern. They hadn’t seen humans nearby for several winters now, and who knew what they were up to… He turned to Rocket, who had just joined them, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“Rocket, find Koba. We need to check this out. Gather a small group. We leave immediately.”

Rocket nodded, his playful demeanor replaced by his serious resolve. He signed back.

“Understood. I’ll get the others.”

As Rocket moved to assemble the team, Caesar turned back to Grey.

“Tell me more about this camp. How many humans? What are they doing?”

Grey signed back, his gestures deliberate.

“There are only a few men, one woman. They seem to be setting up a temporary shelter. We didn’t get too close, but it looks like they might be staying for a while.”

Caesar nodded. The presence of humans so close to their territory could mean many things, and he needed to understand their intentions. He turned to Maurice, who had been listening quietly.

“Maurice, keep an eye on the colony while we’re gone. Make sure everyone stays alert.”

Maurice nodded, his expression serious.

“Be careful, Caesar.”

With a final nod, Caesar turned to join Rocket and the others.

Thank you all so much for reading! I have much planned for this story and I hope to keep this inspiration train rolling! You all would be much help to get it to continue, by showing your support. If you would like me to make a tag list just let me know and I can definitely make that happen. I'm very excited to kick start this story!

#caesar pota #planet of the apes #caesar planet of the apes #ape culture #rocket pota #caesar x reader #caesar x human reader #pota fanfic

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