#pierre chavanges

[nuooage]

#petit paysan #bloody milk #swann arlaud #pierre chavanges #he has perfect face for drawing

[wackapedia]

The Farm Opens At Six

Pierre Chavanges x reader (Swann Arlaud in Petit Paysan!🐄) Coming home from Paris to your little town, you encounter your childhood friend and discover something that's always been there before. Word count: 3,216 (whoa?!) Warnings: Canon-typical violence, spoilers for the movie

The blue lights of the bowling complex make you feel even more dizzy after a couple of drinks. The Cow Prince Pierre Chavanges all of a sudden invited the boys (and yourself, by extension) to hang out, just like you guys used to hang out in high school. The oddest thing about this was that it was Pierre himself who initiated it.

Several rounds of bowling and even more rounds of drinks later, Pierre and JD have a heated argument in front of the alley. You're not sure who's angry about what, but Pierre walks out of the bowling complex after rolling his final ball.

He's been out of himself lately; the former gentle-hearted man has turned into the most anxiety-loaded, stressed-out dairy farmer in all of France. You follow his quick strides and knock on the passenger window as he pulls his truck out of the parking lot

"Hey, can I get a ride?"

"Ask Fabrice." He frowns before changing gears, keeping his eyes straight.

"No, he's drunk." You get in the passenger seat, not waiting for an answer. 

"Your house is far out of my way." He sighs.

"That's fine; I can walk from your house." You try to get comfortable on the seat. Vincent doesn't answer. The truck is now on the road, driving steadily back to his family farm.

"Or I can stay over-" You begin, but he cuts you off.

"No."

A good distance from town, you continue to observe Pierre. He has dark bags under his eyes and a crease on his forehead. He's had a stick up his ass since this week, and he hasn't told you or anyone anything. He's driving flat out through the dark road, and you're worried he's going too fast, especially because he had a couple of drinks.

"I know there's something going on, Pierre. You can tell me. I can help." You ask with a gentle tone this time.

"No." He shuts you down.

"Is it me? Are you mad at me?" You attempt to make him spit out the truth. Pierre chuckles. "Did Paris turn you into a narcissist?" He asks. It stung, but you ignored it to get to the bottom of his sour mood. "Well, is it the farm?" 

You just don't give up. Pierre grunts because he's annoyed that you're snooping into his business. He wishes you'd go back to your big city and forget about him like you did when you left after high school. He angrily scratches at the back of his neck, not noticing the skin there is bleeding. He snaps out of his trance when you yell out his name. He feels your hand grab the cold skin of his arm, pulling his hand away from his neck. Pierre immediately steps on the brake, and the car halts a few paces from his house.

He looks at you and sees the fear in your eyes. He immediately feels sorry for putting you through all that. Pierre tries to run his hand through his hair, but your hand stops him from moving.

"Don't scratch it; it's bleeding!" You hold his arm tighter, afraid he might hurt himself again. "Is it your health? Is that what's bothering you? Are you sick?" You ask, fearing for his answer.

"I'm alright. Please let me go." He sighs and gently pries your hand off his arm. He's no longer angry. All that's left now is sadness and distress. He avoids your gaze, knowing you're about to cry about him.

You slowly let go of him. You're scared for your special friend. He was always the quiet one in school, standing on the sidelines and joining in on the laughter when something was funny. He was that lanky kid who knew a lot but never really overachieved anything. He was the forgettable type. All the other batchmates from school don't remember him well, but you do. You came back to your little town to see how the youngest Chavanges kid is faring, and you've heard from the baker's daughter that Pierre is doing okay.

He still doesn't say anything, and now you feel like you've crossed the line. You sling your bag on your shoulder before moving to open the car door. The lights on the porch of his house illuminate the truck's interior when you notice something. You look to your feet, and then to Pierre's, and then you laugh.

"What's wrong with you?" Pierre sounds exhausted. You kick your feet up on the dashboard to show him what's funny.

You were still wearing the bowling shoes, and so was Pierre. He regarded you as if you had the worst case of insanity possible before giving up and chuckling to himself as well.

You're sure you weren't laughing about the shoes anymore, but something was funny because Pierre was laughing too, and oh, his laugh. Was it the porch light, or did the world suddenly seem a bit brighter? Pierre looks at you and pulls out a cocktail umbrella from your ponytail. You both laugh again, and it feels like you were both fifteen all over again.

A few minutes pass as you wind down, still chuckling and giggling. He leans his head on the steering wheel, and he keeps his eyes on you. Both your faces were flushed with the drinks, the laughter, and maybe something else. 

At least he's smiling now, you note to yourself.

"Will you please tell me what's bothering you, Pierre?" You gently ask, slowly moving your hand to his.

Pierre's smile fades. He's reminded of the dead cow stored in the milking shed. The sadness in his eyes returns, and you don't miss the shift in his mood. The crease on his forehead comes back, but in his eyes, there's only confusion. The same look he used to have back in high school when the lessons became too difficult. He exits the truck, his movements rushed but careful. He then enters the house, leaving the door open. An invitation.

This was progress, you tell yourself. You get out of the truck and land on the rented bowling shoes, not entirely missing your Dior sandals. As you enter the house, you are filled with a sense of nostalgia for your younger days when you would visit the Chavanges house during the summers or after school. Pierre comes out, dressed in work overalls and holding two pairs of boots.  

-------------

You stand next to him inside the milking shed after swapping the bowling shoes with the work boots he left for you. He stares at the dead cow, rigor mortis kicking in. On it's head was a gaping hole. You are left to piece these facts together when Pierre begins roping the cow's feet, dragging it out, and tying it to the tractor.

He comes back a while later to clean the shed. This time, he lets you help with scrubbing the floors and disinfecting the railings. He chuckles to himself when you clumsily knock over a bucket.

"Do you remember when we were eight, you said you wanted to be a dairy farmer's wife?" He asks while draining the blood from the floor.

"Um, yes..." You wonder where this conversation is going, ignoring the splashes of blood and soapy water on your Balmain shirt and jeans.

"That's unlikely for you now, is it?" Pierre is smiling. The whole situation is confusing you.

Your favorite dairy farmer finishes up by spraying disinfectant in the shed. You stand outside just as the sun comes up, waiting for him to finish.

"You can't go home looking like that." Pierre comes out of the barn, carrying a calf in his arms.

"Oh, look at that! He's so cute!" You ignore what he said and begin petting the calf as Pierre walks by to the house, still carrying the calf. Weird, but okay.

"What's going on? Why are you bringing him into the bathroom?"

"He needs a shower." Pierre answers plainly, as if it explains anything that has happened in the past 24 hours.

He still hasn't kicked you out of the house, which was a good sign. You observe him gently bathing the calf. Pierre lets you reassure the distressed animal as it attempts to leap out of the tub. The calf seems to favor you when you pet him and let him sit in the tub while Pierre rinses the soap out of its fur.

"So, to answer your question, yes, I am still qualified to be a dairy farmer's wife." You chuckle while running the towel down the calf's body.

"Not in those clothes, missy. You smell like a whole manure pit. No farmer would want you." He smiles teasingly as he takes off his work suit. You spot the wound on his neck. There are also red stains on the back of his shirt where patches of the wounds bleed through. The teasing mood doesn't last.

"Your turn in the tub. Let me put antiseptic on that." You sternly tell him as you point at the wound on the side of his neck. Pierre wanted to protest, but he was exhausted, and the look in your eyes made it seem like you would not take no for an answer.

------

You return to the bathroom as soon as Pierre calls you in. He sits inside the tub, his bare back facing you. 

"I think you just want to see me naked." He mumbles, trying to make jokes to distract him from the sting of the antiseptic that you were pouring.

"I'm building up my farmer's wife qualifications." You play along as you pause, letting the pain abate for a bit. After a few seconds, you pour over the last patch on his shoulder. He grunts at the pain.

"Also, Pierre? Don’t flatter yourself. It's not that impressive." You say it jokingly as your gaze points to between his legs. He gets mildly offended and shoots off playful insults. Pierre's face flushes in embarrassment and annoyance, but at least not in pain.

He lets you take a shower and lends you some fresh clothes after he finishes. You catch him on his laptop when you walk out of the room, wrapping a towel around your hair. Biniou, the calf, lays comfortably on the sofa. Pierre doesn't move away when you sit next to him. You were hoping he'd watch football or some TV show, but he's watching a news report. His attention is laser-focused. His hands fiddle with the collar of his shirt, trying to stop himself from making the wounds worse.

"A disease?" You ask, trying to follow through with the report while taking his hand away from his shoulder.

Pierre hits pause and sits up to face you. Your hand remains in his, like its the most natural thing in the world. He begins explaining to you the whole cow disease debacle. His eyes hold your gaze as he passionately explains what he had thought. You tried your best to follow through with what he was explaining because surely you were getting lost in his eyes. 

"Do you understand? I'm trying to save the herd." Pierre finishes. Both your hands are in his much larger ones now. He looks down and takes in your soft hands, contrasting his rough and calloused ones.

"Pierre... I don't think..." You don't think this is salvageable. He thinks so too, but he's got to try. He nods, fully understanding what you mean. 

“B-but what about you? Those... on your back?" You stutter, fearing his answer.

"I'll be okay." He smiles slightly. Somehow, the warmth of his hands bring comfort to you.

---------------------

"You skipped breakfast..." You appear in front of Pierre as he works on the pulsator of his milking machine. The usual crease on his forehead is there again. You refer to this as Pierre's work-mode face. He lightens up a little when he looks up and sees the plate of bread, eggs, cheese, and meat you brought for him.

"Oh, you can just put it inside. My hands are still greasy." He shows you his hands.

You shrug and lift a forkful of scrambled eggs to him. He stares at it, feeling hesitant.

"Come on! Do you want me to make train noises? Choo choo!" You laugh. He obliges you with a bite. His face flushes with playfulness and laughter.

"I'm not a child!" He chews his breakfast.

"I know. But someone has to look after the farmer while he's looking after his cows."

Pierre's face flushes, overwhelmed by the feeling of love-

"Oh! Bonjour, Pascale!" Your first impulse interrupts you as you watch a silver Opel pull up. You immediately regret waving at her because Pierre's sister is now eyeing you suspiciously. You? Alone with Pierre at this time of the morning? Wearing clothes that are obviously not yours? 

In your defense, you were worried for Pierre. Although his back was beginning to feel a little better, he needed your help putting cream on his back before bed for the last few nights. You also helped him make healthy meals while his parents were away. He lets you sleep on the couch with Biniou, which was rather comfy. Pierre stacked you with soft pillows and blankets to make sure you're warm and comfortable.

Pascale walks into the tool shed and pulls Pierre away as they have a serious conversation. You return to the house and hang out with Biniou for a bit, waiting for Pierre to come back.  

-------------------

After Pascale leaves, Pierre is back in his dour mood. You hoped he'd be chatty today. He had a great sense of humor, and his voice always made you feel at home.

Huh, you never expected to feel at home with Pierre. Over the past couple of days since bowling night, you hadn't returned to your family home. No one cared to look for you, which was good because you were enjoying your time with Pierre, reliving your childhood together.

"Can I come in?" You knock at his bedroom door. Every night, you help him put cream on the healing wounds on his back. Most of the time, they sting, but you make sure to go hard on the teasing just to distract him.

Pierre doesn't seem to be in a teasing mood when he opens the door. His shirtless form sits on the edge of the bed and hands you the cylinder of cream.

He doesn't react when you make contact with his warm skin. You are grateful that it doesn't bother him anymore and the wounds are beginning to scab.

"Pierre? You okay?" You wanted to ask what Pascale had told him. He sighs.

"It's over." He's given up.

You don't know what to say. The farm is his life, and now that he's forced to give up his life's work, you're afraid it might take a toll on him.

"Will you stay with me?" He asks, taking your hand after placing the cylinder on his bedside.

And, of course, you stay.

His bed was a lot cozier than the couch. A lot warmer too, with him next to you. 

He falls asleep first, his head turned in your direction. You see him as a child again—the boy who has never cared about making it big. He was always so perfectly content with his life in the countryside.

"I'm certain that you're going places." Your teacher once told you back in grade school. She was right; you made it in Paris and maybe beyond, but at that moment, you confidently told her you'd rather be a farmer's wife while eyeing Pierre next to you. The entire class laughed. Pierre felt embarrassed. The teacher took it as a joke, but it was what your heart longs for and where your heart belongs. To be with Pierre.

In the morning, Pierre wakes up, mildly startled to see you asleep so close to him. Your head rests on the same pillow as his, and he notices his arm slung around your waist. It feels like the most normal of things. The natural order of your relationship. It has been weeks since he slept this well. Pierre observes your face, which is so gentle and peaceful. He wonders if you're dreaming, and if you are, is he there in your dreams?

Then, as if your minds are one, he sees your eyes shift under your eyelids. Unconsciously (or not), you snuggle closer to Pierre. His heart melts. Then, your eyes open to see his face so close to yours.

A moment passes, and you don't know how long. You lose yourself in his eyes.

"Good morning," he whispers, making sure to keep the peace in the early hours.

You smile. "What time is it?"

"A bit over eight..." He glances at the wristwatch he wears, even when he sleeps.

"Aren't you supposed to check on the cows?" You wonder. He's normally up at six, sometimes before sunrise.

"No." He answers, and his arm tightens around your waist. You presume there was something about the conversation he and Pascale had yesterday. You let Pierre enjoy this calm morning, which you know is a very rare thing for him.

Little did you know that this would become a regular thing.

Gravel crunches outside as cars pull up at ferme Chavenges. Police cars. They have come to put down the whole herd of "infected" cows, leaving Pierre with nothing. 

"Hey, stop, wait!" You try to stop the cops, but even Pascale couldn't do anything. At least they let Pierre milk the cows one last time. He takes you back to the house. Someone knocks a while later and takes the calf too.

You were too distraught to notice the time. The sun had set. You were still on the couch, with Pierre holding you. You felt incredibly sad about the whole situation.

That night, Pierre takes you to his bedroom. Just like last night, he lays you gently on what is now your side of the bed. 

"Maybe you should head back to your folks tomorrow. You're headed back to Paris on Saturday, yes?" He asks, caressing your hair gently.

You nod.

"Okay. Get some sleep." Pierre kisses the top of your head and turns the lights off.

On your last morning at the farm, you wake up before Pierre. It was still a bit dark outside. You hoped it was raining so it could wash the stench away and save Pierre the effort of cleaning up.

Oh, Pierre.

You look down on him, sleeping next to you. His gentle lips are parted as he snores lightly. It makes you chuckle. You can't leave. Not now, not ever.

"Pierre?"

He snores.

"Pierre? I need to tell you something."

"Huh? What?" He says, keeping his eyes closed.

"Can I stay?"

"What?" He opens one eye.

"I think I want to start my internship here."

Pierre opens both eyes now. He is very confused. "Are you sleep-talking?"

"I said I wanted to be a farmer's wife. I'm ready to start training today, if you'll have me."

It takes a moment for Pierre to understand. He chuckles and then pulls you back to bed, snuggled close to him. He brings up the covers and wraps his arms around you.

"The farm opens at six."

#swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #pierre chavanges x reader #vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi

[callme-darling]

take care of you

or; promising pierre a family after he worked so hard — partly inspired by this anon 🤍

word count: 1.5k

warnings: smut, fem reader, spoilers for ‘bloody milk’, cursing, p-in-v, riding, a hint of a breeding kink, porn with plot lmao, not proofread

a/n: y’all, this turned out so much softer than i was planning😭

“come to bed, dear.” you urge gently, voice quiet as you hook your chin over his shoulder.

his eyes were glued to the laptop screen, as if in combing through multitudes of official and unofficial documents would somehow grant him a miraculous insight he has overlooked previously.

he didn’t move, nor make a sound of any kind. his eyes remained focused, as if in a trance that allowed the rest of the world fall away. your heart ached for him, it really did. in one fell swoop, his livelihood was torn away from him, all despite his best efforts.

“pierre.” whispered, like an ancient beckoning—warm, promising, and void of the familiarity of desolation.

this time he hums, a noncommittal sound, but an evidence that he was present, at least relatively.

you bring your hands to his shoulders. start slow, you remind yourself. ease the burden from his shoulders, find the space to allow yourself to carry it for him, even just for a little while. “pierre,” you whisper again. “the room is cold without you.”

“in a minute.” he responds, dragging the cursor on the screen to click on an article he had already read thrice before.

your heart clenches as you watch the man you love try to make sense of the devastating lost. wordlessly, you step to his left. you’re mindful not to disturb him often, but tonight you felt the ache was almost palpable.

prompting his arm to raise slightly, you duck under his elbow and gingerly crawl onto his lap, your chest against his as you tuck your face into his neck.

you breathe in his scent, a mixture of his minty shampoo and him. he doesn’t shake away your touch, and you instead feel him slowly relax beneath you. taking that as a sign, you wrap your arms around his waist, your hands rubbing along the faint ridges of his spine and latiss.

“i love you, pierre.” you murmur against the warmth of his neck, the hair at his nape tickling your nose as you breathe softly.

his chest rises against yours with a deep inhale. then you feel warm palms on your hips, his fingers tickling your ribs as he holds you closer.

the embrace was what he wasn’t fully able to communicate into words yet. ‘i’m sorry, i’ll do better. i’ll figure this out. for you, for me. i’ll fix this.’

you lift your face from his neck, hands on either side of his head as the pads of your thumbs stroke the skin beneath his ears. “let me take care of you tonight… can i, please?”

he seemed almost taken aback by the sudden determination in your eyes. but his hands held you all the same.

“it’s okay, you don’t-“

“but i want to.” you cut him off. “i want to make you feel better, even just for a little bit.” when he doesn’t respond right away, you tilt your head slightly, pretty doe eyes blinking into his, “please, let me love you.”

“oh, honey..” his hands ran up and down the expanse of your back, fingers bunching up the material of your tshirt.

a soft smile started to crack through your lips, “is that a yes?”

he sighed, eyes searching yours for a quiet moment. “you could do whatever you wanted to me, and i would never object.”

you smile softly as you press your lips to his, finding a tender rhythm. you shift in his lap, knees pressed on either side of his hips. with smooth movements, you begin to softly grind against him, feeling the faint bulge beneath your core.

your hand finds the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair as he stares up at you, lips parted slightly. his fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts as he brought his lips to yours again.

a subdued moan slipped into your mouth as you pressed down more attentively on his lap, your fingers tugging at the roots of his hair with a teasing gyration of your hips. you jumped faintly when a warm hand dipped into the back of your shorts, dragging the material down your thighs and revealing you bare.

“no panties?” he hummed, half to himself.

you grinned, teeth biting your lip as a quiet whine threatened to rise from the back of your throat. “figured i wouldn’t be needing them.”

“you little minx…” he sighed, bordering on admiration.

you could feel how wet you were, how worked up you were quickly becoming. a steady hand tested the waters as you reached between your bodies, fingers grazing over the growing bulge in his jeans. you felt it twitch under your fleeting touch.

pierre huffed as your featherlight touch quickly became more confident, assured. he head fell back against the chair, his adam’s apple bobbing. “fuck…” he cursed with a guttural groan, “you don’t know what you do to me.”

you press a trail of warm kisses to his throat, tongue teasing the skin every so often. “then why don’t you show me?”

as if to reinforce your words even more, you slide off his lap. he looked as if he was about to protest, but as he watched you slide your shorts completely down your legs, any complaints quickly died in his throat. you return to straddle him, but this time you worked the facet of his belt open. your mouth was on his as you slipped a hand into the front of his pants, moaning softly against his tongue as his cock twitch in your palm. you free his length from his jeans, the tip blushed a pretty red as you let your thumb run over the slit and down the length of it.

pierre let out a shaky breath. it’s been too long, you thought. too long since you’ve last had the chance to take care of your lover.

he helps line himself up with your entrance, both of you eager to satisfy that hungering lust.

as you sink onto him, your eyes flutter shut. his hands grip your waist tightly, fingers sure to leave bruises as you clench around him.

“easy,” he prompted softly. he shifts in his seat so that he’s reclined slightly, giving you a better angle. his blue eyes stared into yours as the pads of his calloused fingers gently began to massage your hips. “take it slow, yea?”

you’re mindful as you begin to find a rhythm, the small room quickly filling with the soft acoustics of breathy pants and whispered moans.

he could feel you clench around him sporadically, a telltale sign you were close. your forehead was on his shoulder, fingers gripping onto his biceps for stability. his hands fell to your hips. with an effortless grip, he took control of your movements, working you along his length with steadied ease. his lips pressed to your face, hoarse words warming the shell of your ear, “fuck- just like that dear, you’re so good-“you felt his teeth nip at your earlobe, “gonna make me come.”

you felt your breath stutter, whole body warm and alive with an all-consuming need. “in me,” you gasp out, “please come in me.”

his grip on you tightened, but his words were quiet with uncertainty, “you sure?”

“shit- yes, please pierre, please come in me.” you beg again.

the shift in his demeanor was evident as he fucked into you with a newfound vigor. “gonna fill you up, fuck-“ he growled, “so fuckin’ tight.”

you came with a pitched whine, eyes clenched shut and mouth agape. your body shook lightly in his grasp as you felt his cock pulse in your cunt, a new heat filling you from the inside out.

you both stayed quiet for a moment longer, panting softly.

his hands soon began to rub small, nonsensical shapes along your back. his lips pressed soft kisses along your temple as you brought a hand to the side of his neck, your fingers playing with the hair there.

his raspy voice broke the silence. “so.. is this your way of telling me you’re ready for a family?”

you could hear the smile in his voice. your own smile grew. “i just think that maybe.. it’s time for us to start a herd of our own.” you nearly cringe at your own words, but when you pull away to look at his face, any thoughts of doubt were stripped from your mind.

a lovesick smile tugged at his lips, his eyes searching yours with a warmth not found in words. he presses a tender kiss to your lips. “i think that’s a lovely idea.”

#♱₊˚✧ filth . #swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part one

summary: a bored librarian has a crush on the cow prince, pierre chavanges. pining and daydreaming about an unreciprocated crush that doesn’t even know she exists.

pierre hasn’t been sleeping, it’s made him even more irritable than usual which isn’t safe for anyone. he had tried the herbal teas, sleep hypnosis videos, counting sheep and now he’s in the library. since he has all the extra time he might as well. he fished out his library card from him teenage years from the back of a drawer, hoping it’s still valid.

the library in droyes was an old building with new shelving, it has awkward opening hours and a nice smell. pierre hadn’t visited in years and took his time strolling through the shelves as the afternoon light filtered in. a russian classic, perfect. nothing could be more sleep inducing. he took his book to the front desk and waited in line, he lifted his head from the book synopsis when he heard your voice.

you were arguing with a pimply teenage boy with a pile of books on the desk. looking up at him from your chair, brows scrunching. you had a frown on your face in an attempt to look intimidating but pierre thought it looked more like a pout. "bring back the other 20 and then you can take these" you snatched the books from the boy, putting them on your trolley, he was about to try again and you snapped, "i should be charging you for all the over drafts, stop pushing your luck" a finger in his face as he sulked out the door. "fucking nerd" pierre heard you mutter under your breath.

*

and then all the sudden, pierre chavanges was in front of you. of all the days, all the times, he decided to visit the library in time to witness you yell at some kid. you had known pierre your whole life, he’s somewhat a local celebrity, with his own nickname and everything, the cow prince. the young farmer had a reputation for being well, great at farming. his herd was the best and happiest, he was responsible, kept to himself and the mysterious air he had made him the perfect subject for speculation, rumours and in your case fantasies. you liked the way he carried himself, the definition in his body. pierre was known to be very knowledgable, strong and a man good at his job is always something you appreciated. the pretty face also helps. his baby blue eyes and sharp cheekbones. he never brushes his hair, even now he looks like he rolled out of bed, but you still like the way it fell around his face, the longer strands have a slight curl to them.

his blue eyes landed on your face as he placed his book on the desk, your eyes rested on his hands with his long fingers more than necessary or polite. you suddenly became hyper aware of how messy your hair is, today you skipped your makeup, are wearing the same sweater as yesterday and still have a scowl on your face. you entered customer service mode to stop yourself spiralling. pierre gave you a soft smile as he handed you his card, "sorry about that" you said just to say something. pierre smiled again, this time with a twinkle in his eyes. now looking at his library card, you paused, it’s ancient. you told him you are going to take a minute to update his card, he told you he’s in no rush and you tried to calm down enough to remember what to do. pierre's eyes bore into you as you tried to concentrate on the screen, you wanted to fix the hair strands around your face, but doing so would let him know you’d care and you felt mortified.

*

pierre knew you, he just couldn’t place from where. he was sure he’d seen you in the sea of parties, weddings and anniversaries. he has this image of you in his mind, off to the corner, talking to your friends, a flicker of your eyes on him as he walks by. you had big, expressive eyes and soft lips, slightly open as you read the screen. why can’t he remember your name, your hair bouncing as you run past him. now he’s closer to you, he recognises that crisp, fresh perfume and knows he’s walked into a room that you’d been in and looked around for you.

"are you julian’s sister?" he asks you as you work. your eyes turn at him like he’s gone crazy, you lips slid into a smile, holding out your hand and introduce yourself. pierre takes it and apologises, introducing himself as well. "i know" you chuckle. your hands are soft and delicate in his, your manicured nail slightly gracing the back of his hand. he steps back and apologises again. he feels his cheeks flush a little, he’s relieved your turning your back on him to laminate his card, he watched your hands work and notes how pin straight your posture is, taking in the lines of your body. you turn around with a professional smile and hand him his things, he turns, rushing to the door. "bye pierre" he hears your twinkling voice, your hand in the air and waves a hand goodbye to you as he opens the door.

daydreaming masterlist

#swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #fanfic #y/n #pierre chavanges #slow burn

[weakling-grace]

Swann Arlaud as Pierre Chavanges in Petit Paysan (Bloody Milk)

#swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #cow movie

[lichenes]

I love your works so muuuucchhhh. As the last ask said, you are truly doing god’s work here. Could I please have some slow mornings? I don’t care whichever character of his or the man himself, just do your magic please 🙏🏻🙏🏻

I have to start writing more for monsieur chavanges cuz he is so fineeee ughh, love him. This came out angstier than I anticipated but I hope you like it<33

CW: mentions of nightmares, curt pierre SFW

wc: 391

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

He felt as though he was giving up the little freedom he had when he first let you move in with him. He wasn't trusting by any means, letting in only few which were worthy. You felt as though he didn't fully trust you even when he proposed to move in with him.

He was a sheltered man and you were going to bypass his reluctance with as much love as one's heart could handle.

He jolted awake, plagued by the cow nightmares he has been experiencing for the past few nights. "Pierre are you okay?" You asked, turning around in your chair, your voice full of concern. "Why are you awake already?" He asked as if to reproach you.

Getting out of bed mechanically, without any sentiment for the loss of warmth he went to the bathroom and began his usual routine. You stepped into the room carrying an aura of nothing worry. "I made breakfast." He smiled at you weakly with a mouth full of toothpaste and nodded to thank you. "Pierre we need to talk about the nightmares."

He spit out the toothpaste and rinsed his mouth. "Nothing to talk about Lovely, you can't just make them stop." You pouted. "Come to the kitchen when you're done." You said putting an arm on his shoulder.

He entered the kitchen with a fresh set of clothes on him, not quite ready to take on the day and sat down at the table. You served him a plate of pancakes, his favourite no less, as to sweeten up his morning and he, as much of a reserved men he was, was grateful for your small signs of love for the man.

"Are they any good?" You jested. "Mhm.." He hummed with his mouth full. He swallowed. "Do you have any plans for the weekend?" You shook your head. "Just the usual." You said. "You're going to the fair with me then. I need to pick up a few things for the farm" You beamed at an admittedly harsh, proposal or well, demand of a possible date.

"Sure but you're taking me out to ice cream after that." Pierre chuckled. "Of course, of course."

Pierre wasn't quite there yet when it came to giving up his harsh demeanour around you but you were sure he would cave in any day now...

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

masterlist

#swann arlaud #x reader #petit paysan #writing #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #pierre chavanges x reader

[smalltownbeautyqueen]

Welcome to my garden

✿ my name's winter ~ 🏳️‍🌈~ she/her ~ 19~ aquarius sun, aquarius moon, cancer rising ~

✿ currently writing for: spencer reid, eddie munson, steve harrington, baron lamram (marmalade), gator tillman, vincent renzi (hot lawyer from anatomy of a fall), pierre perdrix, and pierre chavanges

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

#winter'swritings ~ all of my own work

#winter'slibrary ~ fic recs

#winterisspeaking ~ anything non-fan fic related

#winter'sloves ~ pretty self explanatory. anything i love

Masterlist

Spencer Reid:

dancing with the doctor ~ spencer reid x fem!reader

Eddie Munson:

milkshakes and leather ~ eddie munson x gn!reader

COMING SOON!

dinner in hawkins ~ eddie munson x fem!reader

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#winterisspeaking #criminal minds #spencer reid #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #gator tillman #baron marmalade #vincent renzi #anatomy of a fall #pierre perdrix #the bare necessity #pierre chavanges #bloody milk

[callme-darling]

all these ppl in ur asks talking abt Pierre has me tweaking thinking about a continuation of ur rival!pierre fic where he picks a fight w u in front of everyone then goes on to worship u when yall r alone 😵‍💫😵‍💫

the cow prince & the dairy queen (pt.2)

word count: 2.8k

warnings: rivals with benefits dynamic, pierre is a bit of a prick, smut, little plot, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, mentions of alcohol, pls let me know if i missed anything

a/n: this isn’t really a finished piece, but pls accept these pierre chavanges crumbs🙏🏻 (side note: this is lowkey FILTHY)

you can find pt.1 here

it had been a few weeks since yours and pierre’s fling in the pasture. a part of you was content to leave it as that—a one time act of lust; nothing more, nothing less. you both seemingly went back to your respective work; tending to your own farms with little more than an occasional nod or glare in the others direction depending on the day.

you would have been happy to never speak of it, let alone think of it. it seems, however, your happiness is irrelevant when it comes to circumstance.

fabrice was hosting a small, informal get together for the community. well technically another of his friends put it all together, fabrice simply agreed to host it at his house. and just about everyone in town was invited; including, of course, pierre chavanges.

initially, you were going to decline the invitation, but it was rare to see anyone else these days, and rarer still to be able to talk to them for more than a fleeting passing-by. so you agreed and gave fabrice a kind thanks before hanging up the phone. and now you stand in his yard, mentally kicking yourself to be so naive to think this was a good idea.

all was well for the first half hour or so. you made amiable conversation with some people you knew, some you didn’t, and the plastic cup in your hand was a comforting weight of liquid courage. yes, all was well—until you heard a loud chorus of cheers come from near the house. instantly, you smile fell when you saw whose presence was the cause for the ruckus.

you secretly had hoped he would decline the invitation, much like you almost had. but, also like yourself, he must have felt a keen obligation to his friends to at least make an appearance.

and almost immediately, your eyes met. his eyes narrowed in on you, like a predator singling out the weakest of the herd. you finish your drink and slide into a thicker part of the crowd, hoping to get the pair of lingering eyes off of you.

for nearly an hour you succeeded in avoiding one another. but then, as the party gradually began to taper off and more people began to head for their respective homes, you were drug into fabrice’s kitchen for a ‘final round’ before officially calling it a night.

and to everyone’s surprise, and your dismay, pierre had managed to stick it out too.

everyone was in boisterous conversation while you studied the contents of the cup in your hand, the earthy beer a little musty to your tastes.

“say, y/n-“ you’re pulled from your thoughts by one of the guys, “you’ve been awfully quiet tonight. don’t tell me we’re boring you.”

you force a small laugh at the jest, your eyes briefly glancing around the small room, unsurprised to find pierre looking straight at you. “no, no,” you shake your head, reclining your hips against the counter. “just been a long day.”

“the queen probably finds our conversations below herself.” the guys laugh heartily at pierre’s cheap jab. you just roll your eyes, you and pierre are easily the most sober in the room, so you excuse the others. but your glare finds pierre’s easily.

his tall friend picks up on the animosity quickly despite his inebriation, his eyes glimmering with drunken glee as he points, “ooh c’mon guys. let’s not fight, you’re both equally insufferable when you get like this.”

“i’m perfectly fine. i’m afraid it’s your friend who can’t get off his high horse.”

pierre doesn’t break eye contact as he tilts his head slightly, “she’s right. we should be nice to her majesty. we all know she’s had a rough season, after all.”

“the hell is that supposed to mean, chavanges?” your grip tightens around your cup enough to make the thin material crackle.

everyone else seems to catch the tension in the atmosphere shift from friendly pestering to something more hostile. everyone but pierre, whose lips ever so slightly twitch into a shit eating grin.

“what do you think it sounds like?”

you hold his hard stare for a long moment. ‘it’s not worth it’ you decide. you turn slightly to pour the remnants of your drink into the sink. “it sounds like it’s time for me to excuse myself.”

the boys make sounds of disapproval, some of them throwing their arms up at pierre in a silent complaint of ‘what the hell man?’, but pierre only kept his steely eyes on you, an air of indisputable satisfaction behind his expression.

you’re walking along the dirt road that’ll take you home when a set of yellow headlights illuminate your shadow. you shuffle to the side of the path, nearly standing in the shallow ditch when the vehicle slows to a stop just behind you.

“get in, princess.”

you roll your eyes when the distinct tone of pierre’s voice hits your ears. you ignore him and begin walking in the direction of your house again. a strong gust of wind wips past you. instinctively, your arms wrap around your midsection as you grumble under your breath.

pierre merely inches his truck forward, it’s muddied wheels creeping alongside you. “c’mon, get in the truck. it’s freezing.”

you grit your teeth. “i’d rather take my chances freezing then, thanks”

he chuckles and the sound nearly has you seeing red. “go the fuck home, chavanges.”

it didn’t matter how cold you were, or how nice a ride in the warm truck cab sounded. you were not so desperate to grant him the gratification of doing you a favor, no matter how minuscule.

“christ y/n,” he practically growled in nothing short of annoyance, “get in the fucking truck.”

you stop walking, a huff of warm breath dissipating into the cold air. you stand against the cold wind for a moment longer, feeling his eyes rake over you from behind. then with a resigned sigh, you wordlessly stalk to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door.

neither of you say a word as you slip into the seat, but you can feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you finally say.

you catch the way his tongue prods the inside of his cheek before he starts driving along the quickly darkening road.

“you’re really pissed?” he asks after a long stretch of silence.

you’re looking out the window, forehead resting against the cool glass. “you’re really an asshole?”

“come on now, don’t be like that.”

you chuckle at the audacity of this man, though it comes out more like a scoff. “i take it back. you’re a piece of shit.”

“mm, that’s not what it sounded like when you were moaning my name,” he says flatly. “though, it has been a bit so maybe my memory is getting foggy.” and the pointed look he gave you left you with no need to discern what meaning lurked under the surface.

you held your breath as you leveled his gaze. the tension in the cab was oppressive. it took a good moment for you to realize he had parked his truck in one of the pull-offs. your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“tell me, princess,” you hated how your stomach fluttered at the way he said the nickname you hated so much, “does it make you angry when i do that?”

“you’re going to have to be more specific,” you breathe out. “you do a lot of things that piss me off.” you mentally curse when you catch yourself glimpsing to his lips.

he grins. “do you hate when i call you out, give you a hard time? does it make your blood boil?” he doesn’t give you a chance to answer before he’s leaning closer, his eyes sharp as they scan your face. “and does it make you angrier knowing that the guy who gets you so riled up is the same guy you let fuck you in a field a couple weeks ago?”

you swallow, jaw clenching as you turn to look out your window again. then in a moment of stupid courage, likely fueled by the traces of alcohol still running in your veins, you ask the first question that flashed in your mind.

“is this your way of saying once wasn’t enough for you?”

“yes.”

his reply was quick and void of any hints of deception. your lips parted when his answer shocked your system, instantaneously leaving you at a loss for words.

he gauged your reaction, eyes searching yours. when you say nothing, he sighs, though it’s more blasé than irritated. “you know, you’re real annoying when you go quiet like that. for all the complaining and whining you do, i know you have something in that little head of yours you want to say.” he reaches across the console of the truck to gently grab your chin. “yes or no?”

you didn’t need any further context to know what he was asking. you chew on the inside of your lip, chin titled ever so slightly by his thumb, and nod once.

“that won’t do.” he clicks his tongue and murmurs lowly, “use your words, princess.”

you lean in close, eyes steady on his as you whisper, “you can fuck me, chavanges, but i won’t beg.”

his eyes glinted with an unsaid challenge. the thumb holding your chin brushed over your bottom lip, the featherlight touch submerging your stomach in water. “we’ll see about that.”

when he pressed his lips to yours, you swear your senses completely shut everything else out. his movements were slow, languid, as his lips moved in time with yours. his tongue gently nudged past your lips.

even now, you can tell there’s been a shift since the time in the pasture. pierre was much more deliberate and subdued.

you could feel yourself leaning more into his touch, the top half of your body nearly laying on the center console. his rough hand found your jaw and pulled you even closer with a muffled groan.

you straddled his lap in the cramped truck, your ass threatening to bump against the horn until two hands pulled your hips securely on top of his. “fuck, you’re pretty like this.” the combination of his throaty compliment and his fingers digging into your hips had your breath hitching.

eyes half lidded, you peer down at him. your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you keep your face hovering over his. “what would you do if i just up and left? just got out of this truck of yours and left you here like this.”

pierre have you a cheeky grin, unadulterated confidence gleaming in his eyes. “we both know you wouldn’t.” he leaned close so his lips tickled your ear, “i fuck you too good for you to even consider it.”

“then you better not disappoint, chavanges.”

his grin only grew, grip on your hips moving to cup your ass. “don’t you worry, princess. just let me take care of ya.”

“oh? is the prince feeling chivalrous?”

a hand on your neck has your eyes fluttering as he whispers against your warm skin, “i suggest you be nice.” then his lips were on your throat, tongue teasing the sensitive flesh while his teeth nipped little red marks across your chest.

you fingers are in his hair as he undoubtedly leaves marks that won’t fade for a couple days over your skin. you’ll be irritated tomorrow, but for now you allow yourself to enjoy the feeling of his fleeting touch.

his large hands gave your ass another squeeze, grinding you against his jean-covered, half hard cock. you always hated how your body betrayed you, the way you can feel your pussy practically soaking through your panties and onto his lap.

pierre groans underneath you, his fingers pulling your shirt over your head, his other hand unclasping your bra with a fumbling grasp that only added to the heat of the truck. his lips abandon your neck in favor of your tits. his eyes watched you as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, rolling the sensitive nub under his tongue. his palm groped at your other breast, fingers teasingly pulling at your skin as you whine.

his mouth pulls off you with a minute wet ‘pop’. he grinned up at you, eyes no doubt studying the growing blush on your cheeks. “y’know, you sound prettier like this than when you’re bitchin’.”

you tugged his hair, a warning.

he ignores it. “fuck.. i can’t wait anymore.” it’s embarrassing, how your pussy clenched around nothing at his words. your chest shone with the warmth of his spit as his breath fans across your skin. you shudder as his fingernails skim up your arm and down the front of your collarbone. “gotta feel that little pussy of yours, been too long.”

the transition to you shimmying your worn jeans down your legs was anything but graceful, but pierre didn’t seem to mind as his own hips raised to deftly push his own pants to his thighs. the windows were already beginning to fog over with a sheen of warmth. you both took a moment, chests softly heaving in unison before pierre’s hands rubbed along your ribs and waist, wordlessly soothing the nerves crawling over your skin.

he brought his face closer to yours again, his nose nudging the column of your neck before inhaling. “been thinking about this since that day.”

you’d sooner take yourself out to pasture than admit you’d been the same. you could practically feel his sick twitch beneath the thin material of his boxers, the heat emanating from his body making your mind hazy. you whine despite yourself, pussy clenching around nothing when his finger traces over the elastic band of your panties.

“pierre, don’t tease.” it’s meant to be a warning, but it comes out breathier than needier than you anticipated.

his touch becomes more assertive, borderline experimental, as his thumb dips to the front of your crotch, easily ghosting over your clit while his eyes watch you with a glimmer of piqued enthusiasm. “are you in a rush?”

his warm breath paired with the tentative touches makes your eyes flutter. “i wanna take my time with you, this time.” finally, his long fingers tug the slick material covering your heat to the side. the calloused pads of his fingers tease your wet folds. you flush with a bright heat when the only sound in the truck is the audible wet clicking coming from pierre shamelessly playing with your soaked pussy.

your head falls to pierre’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as your hips twitch to meet his hand. there’s no doubt your bottom lip is gonna be bruised with how you’re biting into it, but it does little to stop the pathetic sounds from reaching his ears.

“fuck..” his low groan sends sparks down your spine. “you’re so fucking wet, i love it…”

as if to emphasize his words, he slips two long fingers into your dripping hole. your hands clutch onto his shoulders, nails pricking through his shirt but god- you were both so pent up at this point, any humiliation only added to the desperation.

pierre’s lips pressed a wet kiss onto your shoulder. the feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your cunt doubled with the material of your soft panties catching your clit with each shift of his palm, you were made pliant in a matter of minutes.

“god… missed this,” pierre stifles a groan when you clench around his fingers embarrassingly tight, “so much.”

a hand on your throat drags your face to his and his mouth is on you before you fully register his fingers leaving your heat. you’re holding back a whine when he finally frees his dick, blushed an angry red and leaking pre, from his boxers. your eyes are fixated on his cock and it only strokes his ego.

pierre’s breath warms the shell of your ear as he whispers, “you can deny it until you’re blue in the face, but i know you’ve been thinking about how i fuck you everyday since the field.”

you drag your gaze to meet his and even in the darkness of the truck cab, you can see the hunger in his eyes.

his thumb smears the precum from his tip down his shaft as he gives his cock a pump before you lift your hips. your head falls back slightly as you sink down onto his length. you both breathe softly when you finally bottom out, and it takes everything in you not to start bouncing on his lap.

instead, you bite back a small moan and give the man beneath you a heady glare, “you better not fall for me, chavanges.”

he returns it with a toothy grin, mouth already coming to hover over yours. “i definitely won’t fall for you. i just love to hate you.”

#ꕤ ₊˚✧ mailbox . #♱₊˚✧ filth . #swann arlaud #bloody milk #petit paysan #swann arlaud smut #pierre chavanges

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part four

summary: you agreed to go on a date with pierre chavanges. he needs to make a good impression.

pierre sneaked a glance at you over the menu, this is the first chance he’s had to actually look at you. on the car ride over, you’d spent the whole time changing the music in the car, you were taking it very seriously and he hadn’t wanted to interrupt. at le cheval blanc you were sat outside with a lush garden. the warm night was filled with the sounds of summer and the gentle conversation of the tables around you created a good atmosphere.

he ran his fingers through his hair again, it has grown longer and tickles his brows, he had rushed out the door evading his mothers questions. he had spent the whole day preparing mentally and physically, he had changed his outfit four times, settling on a black button up and trousers. pierre has been on enough awkward first dates to keep his expectations low. unfortunately, the stakes feel high and he’s apprehensive, he’s never wanted to connect with someone as badly as he does with you but he doesn’t know how. how do you let someone know you want to be important to them.

he watched you study the menu, you poke your cheek as you decided and mutter to yourself. "i’m getting the sea bass then" you said with a finality. you looked up at pierre and his heart skipped a beat.

your lips were a blurry red and inviting. he loved the way your eyes sparkled at him, smiling at him sweetly every time your eyes met. he was thoroughly enjoying that. your hair cascades around you and frames your face, reminds him of the romantic impressionists. you were wearing a short black dress, tight on your waist but flowing around your thighs. the sleeves are long and elegant, sliding up your arm when you move. he likes watching your fingers reach for the wine, likes the way a sip stains your lips a little.

the conversation flowed, pierre had been worried but he had an endless list of questions. you answered him freely, stories from your childhood, your friends and work. he liked the way you spoke to him intimately, like you’d known him for years. he found you funny, be it your stories from university or the witty remarks you’d use to punctuate your sentences. he could tell you read a lot, you spoke vividly and he was engaged. he even surprised himself and offered his own jokes, not wanting burden you with all of the nights entertainment. he liked the way you laughed with him, the sound sweet and you made yourself breathless.

"and then she threw the mic across the room" you were telling him about your friends birthday party. it had been at jd's bar and he remembered his own friend telling him the story. "well it’s nice to hear your point of view, jd had said it was just because you were all wasted", "his karaoke didn’t have abba" you interject, pierre nodded, "right, so now i see it, in a way, it was his own fault". you both burst into giggles and the waiter turns annoyed.

three hours had already passed, the candles dwindling, the other patrons had left. pierre was shocked at the time, it was going too fast. he hadn’t felt like this before, no rush to leave. he already knew all your favourite films, books, music, your childhood friends and pets, core memories and your first driving lesson fail. he knew your dreams for the future, your current frustrations with life. it didn’t feel like enough, he felt greedy, wanting to know more and more about you.

you were the most interesting person he’d met, when he would ask question after question, you asked him to stop the interrogation. pierre couldn’t help it, he offered himself as well. he told you his own stories. his many endless nights making trouble with his friends. the two years he’d travelled to italy before he took over the farm. the pressures of a lineage farm on his shoulder, the endless repetition. the silence after the dessert was comfortable but pierre’s heart was still beating fast. your cheeks were flushed, your neck tipped back, taking in the night stars.

you suddenly sat up straight, looking into pierre’s eyes earnestly. "you know pierre, i fucking love cows" pierre covered his face with his hand, shaking it. trying to suppress his laughter. "i really do pierre" you had reached across the table, your fingers curling around his wrist. "now do you think i could get one.. i could get one of yours you know, just a baby, i just need a baby one… you could help me, i’ve read a few books already and you know basically everyone else has one, you could give me one"

pierre was certain you were too tipsy now, he nodded at you. he paid for dinner and held your hand in one hand, your coat in the other. he slowly guided you to his car as you were trying to convince him he should sell you one of his new calf. in the car, you were silent, looking out into the fields, you sometimes made a comment about the song playing on the radio. as he drove up to your apartment complex, pierre was feeling nervous. the date had gone well, in his eyes it did. pierre knew himself, he recognised it, he was already half in love. that’s why he was feeling on edge, he needed to know how you felt. he thought he knew, from the way you flushed at his compliments and stared at his lips but he needed to know for certain.

"i really enjoyed tonight" you were speaking almost timidly. pierre was glad you did, he turned to you and smiled softly. "so did i, i really want to see you again" pierre watched you stare straight ahead, he took in your profile. your perfume filled his car, he was hoping it would linger when your gone. you took a minute, pierre didn’t want to rush you. you nodded and met his eyes.

your hand rose to his jaw, your soft fingers stroke up to his cheek and pierre fell into it. your eyes sparkle up at him, lips parted and breath laboured. pierre’s hand slides up your arm and meets yours, he tangles your fingers with his and pulls them away. he moves closer to you, you sit back, a puzzled look. pierre’s hand moves to the nape of your neck, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. he pulls your head to his and wraps his other arm around you. his lips meet yours. your lips are so soft, sweet from the wine, he falls in deep. he feels your heart beating fast against his own, no doubt beating just as fast. tilting your head back a little, his tongue finds yours, and he hold you tighter. his hands tangle in your silky hair, he strokes your back. pierre feels overwhelmed, by your taste, the scent of you and your body in his arms, so giving and warm.

your arms move up from his chest to dangle from his shoulders. your hanging onto each kiss and pierre hears a soft moan from you. he pulls away quick. how could you make that noise against his lips. he needed to be reasonable since your not being so. your eyes look up at him big, a little whiplashed from the sudden lack of warmth. you arms are still around his neck and you softly purr his name. pierre stroked your arm, pulling your sleeve back and plants gentle kisses on it. he tries to ignore your pout and how hard it’s making him. your eyes narrow at him and he pulls your arms off him while he intertwines your fingers in his. pierre avoids looking at you in an attempt to suppress that icy sharp desire he feels.

"it’s getting late, i’ll call you tomorrow okay" pierre kisses the tips of your fingers in apology, keeping his head low and feels you relax beside him. you kiss his cheek quickly and jump out, closing the door you look at him through the open window. "good night pierre, remember you owe me a calf". pierre feels his heart flipping and wishes you a good night but not making any promises.

daydreaming masterlist

#swann arlaud #pierre chavanges #petit paysan #bloody milk #fanfic #y/n

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part five

summary: pierre is tired but he does not notice it when he's with you

warning: nsfw, 18+ please

pierre wiggled on his boots and crosses the gravel from the shed to the farm. some of his cows were mooing loud, he was not in the mood this morning. then he hears someone say your name, full government name. he turned to see pascale with a hand on her hip. "yes and…" pierre was tired, he only had two hours sleep, he ignored her and went to the herd. he heard pascale shuffling after him, "aren’t you going to introduce her to the family". pierre scoffed, "so you can all scare her off with all those questions and comments, farmers wives do this and that"

there was a little hay in their water and pierre removed it, his cows have become real snobs. "they can’t stand it anymore, you don’t eat dinner, come home late and you won’t even introduce her" so pascale had been sent by his parents. "you already know her" pierre cannot concentrate, he went back to his office and knew he had paperwork to do. "it’s not the same pierre, you have to do these things properly"

that grated pierre. when will he ever have the time to do things properly. you’d been his girlfriend four months and two weeks now, yes he kept count. date nights were now rare, the most he talks to you is on the phone while he watched his cows and your are on break at the library. in the evenings he rushes over to your apartment and has the speeding tickets to prove it. he spends every night with you and it never feels like enough, you’ve never had a lazy morning together, day trips or even a full weekend to yourselves. pierre knew he wasn’t doing the it right.

you told pierre you didn’t mind, that you understand. you reassured him yes, but pierre can’t help but think of the future. he has this anxiety that you’ll begin to resent him for it, that all the time lost will add up and and you step back, you’ll see that pierre isn’t worth all the days you wait for him. every night, he steps into your apartment, you jump up at him eager and grip onto him till he leaves. he wants to see you in the daylight, to not rush or feel like he’s on borrowed time. he knows you like to travel, you do so with your friends every other week. it’s just another lifestyle difference he knows he can’t bridge the gap to. he knows you are making memories without him. to think that you feel the same dull ache he feels as he wastes the day waiting to come to you makes pierre doubt himself.

the hot shower is quick, pierre winces as the water runs through cuts in his body he hadn’t noticed. he’s tired and still hungry. he rummages through his clothes and throws on a shirt he knows you react very well to. if he can’t have the days, he’s determined to make the nights counts. like a mantra to himself, he isn’t going to self sabotage and let his over thinking ruin the best thing in his life.

*

you watched pierres car pull up from your window. he’s a little earlier than usual. you check yourself in the mirror again, a little sundress. pierre walked through the door with a bootle of wine in his hand, his arms open and you walk into them. you wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him. you take in his smell and rest your head in his chest. pierre says hello into your lips and squeezes you before going to the table, setting the bottle down.

he looks you up and down as he takes off his jacket, "that’s a very pretty dress" you thank him and give a little twirl. "very thin though, are you sure your not cold" he’s smirking down at you now. his fingers left feathery touches on the top of your thigh and he is playing with the hem of your dress, lifting it a little. he notices you’ve "forgotten" your panties, he looks up at you and cocks his head to the side. "i've ordered chinese so i hope your hungry" you start setting the table, liking the way pierre takes your teasing.

dinner is delicious, your friend had recommended this new place and pierre was loving it even more than you. pierre mocks you for eating slow and you told him it’s unnatural to inhale your food the way he does. you rambled on about your day, you had had an old man try to donate a box of his old playboys, he was trying to be environmentally conscious, he claimed. your feet tapped at pierres, you liked watching him relax and smile at your jokes. you were making good use of the wine but pierre only took sips of his cup, saying he needs to work early tomorrow. it’s never ending, you should’ve known that since he is a farmer but you hadn’t realised how relentless and nonstop it really was especially since he works alone. he works so hard and you admire him, every part of being a farmer impressing you. your feet slid up his thigh and pierre took the opportunity to grab it and tickle you. you try to squirm your feet out of his hands while you howl with laughter. he was laughing and proud of himself for turning the tables on you.

you watched him clean the dinner plates, his eyes sleepy and blinking slow. "why don’t you just sleep here tonight" he dries a dish and turns to you. "just sleep? is that what all your teasing was for" he notices your serious tone and stops. "only.. you look really tired that’s all, don’t you want to rest tonight, i wouldn’t mind" you take his hand and drag him to the bedroom. pierre’s lips kiss your neck and jaw as you get comfortable under him. you pull his head back with a gentle tug of his hair, his blue eyes meet yours and you take in his intense gaze, his lips parted. "that’s not how you get a good nights sleep" you pull his head into the nape of your neck and gently stroke his hair, hoping the movement will lull him to sleep. he hums against your neck a little irritated but compliant. he grabs your sides and pulls you tightly against him, you slot into each other comfortably and you close your eyes to sleep.

"i am very tired" pierres voice is low and deep, you thought he’d already fallen asleep. "but no matter how tired i am" pierre’s arms were at either side of your head and he climbed atop you, "i’ve spent all night looking at the way the light shines through that dress and shows your whole body" he kisses your neck gently and his fingers tangle around your neck. "and as nice as you are being, darling, i’d prefer it if we had some fun" you loved it when pierre got like this, your legs opened and you wrapped them around his hips, feeling your dress slide up and pool at your stomach. pierre took a sharp inhale and quickly removed his jeans. you watched his skilled fingers and his chest rise in anticipation. you reached for him, pulling his shirt up, feeling his toned stomach and back, any excuse to run your fingers along him.

pierre pushed you down to the pillow by your neck, he starts kissing you rough and hungry. you feel his hands palm your sensitive inner thigh and he runs his fingers along your folds, you breathe in sharp, he starts to apply pressure on your clit and mumbles in your lips, "your so wet and needy" his tone was sweet but his hands are rough, you feel your climax building as he inserts his fingers into you. his thumb still stroking your clit and you try to escape his lips to breathe. pierre won’t let you, he hold your head still, sloppy and hot kisses on your lips as his fingers work faster. you hold onto his arm when you felt your orgasm begin and suddenly, pierre took his fingers out, he was watching you. he smiled and kissed your jaw. you weren’t happy with the cold, your cunt was hot and pulsing around nothing. you blushed violently and didn’t wanna meet pierres eyes.

pierre pulled your dress above your head and you couldn’t help but pout at him. pierre chuckled "i’m sorry that was mean" he didn’t sound sorry, both his hands held your waist. he felt up your body and grabbed your breasts, they weren’t very significant but they fit perfectly into pierre’s hands. he messaged them in his hands and tugged them a little, you suppress a whine and pierre opened your legs up, on top of you as he bites one of your nipples, he licks up to your neck and you are breathing hard. your hips bulk up to his in desperation, he holds them down and scolds you. "be patient we have all night". the thought of pierre teasing you like this all night was unbearable. you feel his cock against your stomach, thick and pulsing through his boxers. you arch your back upwards and moan into his neck. "please pierre"

pierre stars biting at your ears gently as you desperately pull his boxers down, his cock springs onto your stomach, the tip red and already wet with his precum. you pull at pierre’s hair and he sits up, he opens your legs wide, you watch him, holding your breath. he strokes himself gently as he watches your pussy, he makes eye contact with you and you suddenly feel shy. his toned arms, thick thighs and abs having an obvious affect on you and he knows it. he uses his thumb to stroke your clit, you tense at the contact, he runs it down your pussy and collects some of the juices on his hand, using it to stoke himself again. you tilt your head back and suppress a moan, pierre teases you too much. he smiles up at you and lifts your head back up to him, his hand in your hair. he moves closer and you feel his cock rub against your folds. "your so wet and warm, i know your going to feel good" his voice is deep, barely above a whisper. he taps his cock at your entrance and starts rubbing against it. it makes your eyes roll, his thick cock pushing your clit. the sound of your pussy fills the room and you cover your face. you feel your orgasm building again but you don’t trust pierre, you try to stop your hips from rocking into him but you move on impulse.

you were right, pierre watches your face and stops, breathing heavily above you. pierre presses his cock into you, gently at first, your eyes roll to the back of your head and you grip the sheets around you. when he’s filling you, you begin to wiggle under him, completely overwhelmed. pierre kisses your shoulders and arms to relax you while he catches his breath. "your too fucking tight.. but your doing so well, just be good okay" you nod at him but your vision is blurry. pierre feels so good inside you, he moves in and out of you slowly and when he can feel you relax, he picks up his pace, your nails dig into his shoulder. you feel your eyes fill with tears and pierre kisses them and your cheeks while still fucking you hard. your climax builds again as he plays with your cunt, pierres breathing and moans fill the room with yours. his voice and his warm body on top of you, his cock drilling into you. pierre watches you as you stare at his cock pumping into you, you start to moan his name urgently. your body jerks up to his, your core releases and you orgasm around pierre's cock. your head feels dizzy and your walls tighten around him, he fucks you through it and watches you in awe.

pierre starts kissing you again and he curses into your lips, you feel him cum inside you. he rocks inside you some more and sits up, he spreads your legs wide and watched as his cum drips down your pussy. you blush and cover your face with a pillow. you feel pierres fingers tease your heat, you throw your pillow at him and he dodged it with a laugh. you were sensitive and sore, you wiggled out of his grip and that’s when you saw what he was doing. pierre climbed up and kissed you, his lips red and raw. he then slid his fingers into your mouth. you tasted his cum and sucked on his fingers, he is looking into your eyes transfixed. you licked his fingers gently and he pulled them out, resting them on your lips. he said your name and you hummed. "i'm in love with you" pierres confession was sweet and gentle.

you were lightheaded, your body was exhausted. you couldn’t believe him. the way he spoke so softly after fucking you like that. you had never imagined the shy and gentle farmer pierre chavanges would be so deceptive. your fingers tapped his face and you looked at him bright blue eyes, now sparkling after sex. you bury your hands in his soft hair, moving back and forth. your mind goes blank, just enjoying the feel of him so close. he kisses your temple and laughs, "this is the part where you say something too.. or not" you realised you hadn’t even answered him. you giggle, he shakes his head in bewilderment. "it’s funny is it, do you think i'm funny" he’s smiling down at you and you really enjoy the view. "no no that’s not it" you take his face in your hands and he pecks a kiss on one before looking back at you in anticipation. his eyes were wide and cute. " i think i love you too". pierres face breaks into a grin, his relief palpable and he starts attacking you with kisses.

your heart feels full but you are beyond exhausted thanks to pierre, your eyelids are heavy and you fall asleep in pierres arms while he’s still wide awake from the adrenaline rush you gave him.

daydreaming masterlist

#😳😳 #pls forgive me #swann arlaud #pierre chavanges #petit paysan #bloody milk #fanfic #slow burn #smut #y/n

[swann-song]

daydreaming - finale

summary: the reality of dating a farmer comes with certain expectations. meeting the chavanges makes you realise that maybe pierres family do not find you suitable.

your mother tried to pull you away from pierre. she said she expected better and you were enraged, you had many heated arguments, you threatened to stop talking to her so she changed her tactic. conveniently visiting the library with "appropriate" guys and sending you their phone numbers. "this one works in finance" she pushed her phone in your face. it was some guy in a suit. "you know as tempting as guys who do coke off your ass and fuck their secretaries are, no thank you" your mother gasped scandalised and held her chest. pierre opened the door whenever she visited your flat. pierre was introverted so it’s not like he had long conversations with her. he kept a distance and was respectful. gradually she saw him the way you did, he was kind, attentive and calm. when she dramatically declared that she approved, you rolled your eyes.

"her dream job was always being a librarian you know" pierre was listening to your mother. "i thought after university she’d do something adventurous but you know how she is" pierre nodded and offered her a plate of pastries. "pierre why don’t you go the the hairdressers, it’s getting a bit long no" pierre pushed his hair away, "your daughter prefers it this way, i can’t disobey" it’s true, you were very tyrannical about his hair. "mon dieu" your mother shook her head at you but you can’t pretend to feel bad.

"did you see what jean has done to his roof, made a complete mess of it" you watched pierre try to keep up and felt sentimental. he had a sun kiss tan from working all day. you could tell he was tired but trying, he gave you a tender smile. you’d forgotten what life was like without him, your memories were blurring and pierre was the only thing you saw in focus.

*

the chavanges' house is getting a spring clean like no other. pierre fixed flickering lightbulbs, had repainted the front door. he had deep cleaned every nook and cranny of the farmhouse. all the doors hinges were oiled, he stopped the drip of the kitchen tap. the garden weeded and blooming with newly planted flowers. pierre had even taken the time to bathe all his cows with his new farmboy, they were mirror clean. his parents were happy with the changes but his obsessive cleaning is overwhelming them. pierre doesn’t let them help, he nags at them to keep out of his way and even told them to keep their own room clean like they’re children. he needs the house to be spotless. you were seeing it for the first time tonight, he’s officially introducing you to his family and the farm. he wants this to be your home so it has to be perfect.

*

you watched pierre’s mother force a smile at your gift. you’d bought her a mug with a cow on it, it said "good moo-rning". your smile drops and you turn to pierre, he has a sympathetic smile on his face and squeezes your hand under the table. the dinner wasn’t going well. you tried to relax and be pleasant but it’s hard, pierres parents and his sister pascale have been tracking your every move. you rub the back of your neck and pick at your plate. you wanted to make a good impression but can’t seem up to find the pulse tonight. pierre was dressed sharp, he wore those tighter trousers he knew you liked and his cologne is the same you bought him for your six month anniversary, the smell reminds you of that night and you flush a the memory.

you had spent all day preparing, you even practiced conversation starters. you’d chosen an elegant and classy knee length dress, your hair pinned up sleek. the flowers, wines and now gift weren’t helping. you didn’t want to make pierre doubt your compatibility and no matter what your mother said, you want to get along with his family. not that he’d ever said it’s a requirement, in fact he’d said he’d prefer it if you hated them. pierres hand had rested on your thigh all night, his thumb strokes it to soothe you. you could tell he was trying hard tonight, leading the conversation and keeping the atmosphere light. it must be very hard for him, you know he struggles to be extroverted, especially when things are as awkward as this.

they interrogated you and you gave your most diplomatic answers but everything that came out of your mouth warranted a "huh" or "i see" from them. no you don’t garden, no you’d never been to a farm and you had only every worked at the library, a few cafes when you were younger. your ex boyfriends were bought up and compared to pierres ex girlfriends. apparently your ex's older brother was now married to pierres ex, the way that his mother said it, you’d think you set them up. you asked pierres father about current events since pierre had told you he enjoys the news. watching it maybe but he wasn’t open to discussing it with you. you were asked if you were squeamish about blood, when you made a joke that it made you faint, only pierre laughed along and you could tell it was just for your benefit. you were intimidated by pierres sister pascale, she was a few years older than you and too cool for you to talk to, well that’s how it felt. when ms. chavanges asked you how many children you wanted and if you’d taken a fertility test, pierre whispered "mother" sharp and low at her and you asked if the cows were hating this hot weather to distract, it made you sound stupid but you couldn’t think of anything else.

pierre gets up to take the dinner plates, you reach for some but pascale pushed you back down smiling, saying she’ll take it with him instead. that’s a good sign, at least his sister liked you. you complimented the home interior and the decorations, the house was cozy and welcoming, the smell of the garden flowers travelling in. after a pause, ms. chavanges starts, "you have very dainty hands" you um and look at your hands "do you have an active lifestyle". you laugh awkwardly. "actually, you know i carry around heavy piles of books up and down stairs all day... i hope that counts" you sip your wine and watch pierres mother. his father was very quite, he’d barely talked tonight. you fridget with your earrings. pierre comes back with plates of dessert, a very impressive chocolate soufflé, your eyes widen at him. he puts it before you with a flourish "voila!~"

dessert was going much better, pascale and pierre had taken over, they were reciting funny family stories to you. you really appreciated the limelight off you. you were an eager audience, pascale was more than willing to expose all of pierres embarrassing stories. pierre was waving his arms about to stop her and even covered your ears for some of them. pascale prided in telling you she used to cover his bed in hay and sneak a calf into his bedroom when he got drunk to freak him out. as the night went on, pierres parents retired with a polite goodnight. pascale left not long after, pierre offered her the spare room but she wanted to drive home. she gave you a warm hug. "i'm glad you like pierre, at least someone does now" pierre scoffed at her and you laughed bewildered. "let’s get lunch together some time, my practice is close to your library" you promised her you would and waved her off.

pierre closed the door and turned to you, he held your face. "you did well darling" and kissed your cheek. you sigh and raised your brows. "your being a little delusion but i appreciate it" you stopped faking a smile and pierre pulled you across the living room, through the hallway and into a room that looks like his office. the moonlight poured into the room from the windows and shone on pierres delicate face, his silver hair reflective and blue eyes crystal clear.

*

pierre watched you look at him with a finger on your bottom lip. he flicked on the lights, "what is it?". you ignore him and turned around the room, taking a beeline to his desk. your eyes dart around it, "how do you work like this, it’s like there’s been an explosion" you flick through some papers. "you know i could organise this, i’ve got a great system i could do for you, everything alphabetical or categorical, whichever you prefer really" pierre dragged you away and onto the coach. he can’t let you get distracted by stationary, that’s a battle he knew he can’t win. he was also feeling a little offended, he’d tidied for your visit, his desk was organised and neat by his standards.

pierre played with the the wispy strands of your hair that had come undone throughout the night, when his fingers brushed against the nape of your neck you took a breath. pierre liked how responsive you were to his every touch, he plants a kiss on the back of your neck. your eyes meet and he watches your lips, slightly open the way they are when you expected a kiss. he clears his throat. he needed to know if you approved. of the house, the dinner, his family. of him. he needed to know if you wanted a future here with him. he had watched your eyes dart around all night, you stared at the bookcase in the living room, no doubt judging their literary taste. you said you liked the wallpaper and that it reminded you of beatrix potter art. you told them you liked the fine china and the food was delicious. had craned your neck to look into the garden, his stomach flipped as he watched a soft smile grow on your lips. but he needed to know if you didn’t like any part of it, he could change it all to your liking, he only needed to be told. he was nervous you might dislike something he can’t change or not want any of it all together.

you held his hand and squeezes it, "i'm sorry i was awkward, i just need a little time" pierre looked at you puzzled and snorted a laugh, "i really don’t give a fuck about that baby" pierre grabbed a glass and poured you a wine he knew you liked, he had put some of your favourite snacks on the table earlier that day. "do you like the house" he asks casually. you roll your eyes at him, "do i like the adorable cottage with a farm and garden surrounded by gorgeous trees, yes pierre, yes i do" you sip your wine and sit back. you play with his fingers and ask, "how can you even ask?" he watched you and moved back a strand of hair on your faces, you wiggled closer to him and felt you press your tits against his arm, purposely he might add. "i want you to like it that’s all" he kisses your forehead and whisper against it "i want this to be… your home one day".

you grinned at him mischievously, "oh am i a contender for mrs chavanges, i don’t know pierre would i suit being a farmers wife" your kidding again, but pierres been too stressed and can’t seem to laugh along. you notice and stroke his hair, almost patting him. pierre starts, "i love you, i don’t want to pressure you but i need you to understand my lifestyle, you can’t run away from it further along and break my heart” your eyes narrow at him. "i mean of course you could, it’d just be really mean of you" he adds, you giggle and kiss him. pierre holds you closer, he was never gonna push away a kiss from you. the kiss goes on longer, pierre tastes you and runs his hands up your legs and to the ball of your back. you pull away and catch your breathe, pierre is mesmerised with your face. your lips were plum and wet, he’d been kissing you too long. you push his hair from his eyes and smile. "pierre i could never leave or hurt you, i love you too don’t forget" a wave of gratitude washes over him, he kisses the back of your hand. "i will warn you though i’m not gonna help in the barn, my nails are really expensive pierre" his laugh fills the room, he’d never wanted you to lift a finger and imagining you trying to herd and milk the cows was like a slapstick comedy in his head.

pierre felt a weight lifted from his shoulders. he told you openly the future he imagined with you, the farm was doing well, he’d already got a few new apprentices, training them to the standard he expected. his cows had won a few awards and that’s given him more power to negotiate for better contracts. he wanted you to know he has laid the foundation for a strong future. pierre had been taking more time off recently and promised you he’d be able to take even more. you nodded and your hand traced down his jaw to his chest. you lean close to his ear. "i like every version of a life with you pierre, you don’t need to convince me of anything, i’m not going anywhere". pierres eyes strung, of course you’d know exactly what he wanted. he pulls you onto his lap, his buries his face in your neck. he takes in the feeling of you close to him, your scent, the rise and fall of your body, wondering how he got so lucky.

"you know i used to have a crush on you when i was younger" pierres face snaps up confused. "i used to daydream of us having a picnic in the grass, on that hill up there" your voice was airy as you stared out the window and pierre loved you even more. more than he ever thought he was capable of loving someone.

the end.

thank you for reading!~ i really appreciate you taking the time, i loved swann in this movie and was inspired. thanks again xox

daydreaming masterlist

#i hate endings 🥺🥺 #thanks for reading #swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #fanfic #fluff #y/n

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part three

summary: pierre comes looking for you at the library. but meet cutes can only go so far, is it all in his head

in anticipation of pierre coming back to the library, you’d been putting in a bit more effort at work, always watching the door. when the library regulars saw you getting more dolled up and distracted, they’d arch their eyebrows at you and you tried to ignore it. however, as pierres book was now completely overdue, you’d resigned. he probably hasn’t even started it. you retired the cute dresses and went back into your trusted sweaters, mrs moreau thought you’d been dumped. a one sided crush definitely felt like it.

you had the entirety of science fiction sprawled across the floor, it was a dead afternoon, the book club had already left. the library had a hush that was best for these deep cleans you liked to do. you were making a pile of bordage books when you heard your name. pierre was standing over you with a polite smile, he was just outside your fort of books.

pierre looked ethereal, warm light was glowing around him. he had a white button up on, two buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up and you saw his toned arms. his hair was parted neatly in the middle and it fell around his face delicately. his blue eyes clear and big, were you hallucinating?

you stand to greet him and almost trip on a few books, you grab the shelves to steady yourself. pierre had reached out and steadied your elbows. "be careful" his voice hushed in the quite library. you were flushed, and quickly greet him, the small talk brief.

"do you enjoy the russian classics. pushkin's one of my favourite poets" you watched pierre’s brows scrunch together, he looked back at his hand, holding his book and nodded.

"ah well, i just needed something to help me fall asleep" you laughed, the sound of it grating your own ears in the silent library.

"do you need any help picking these up?” pierre offered. "oh.. no, it’s kinda my job, i’m reorganised and cleaning the shelves, it’s fine i enjoy it, therapeutic you know. what are you doing here?" you waffle on, your arms in the air and pierre looks like he’s trying not to laugh at you.

"you weren’t at your desk but don’t worry i won’t hold it against you, your very busy" pierre watched you climb out of the books, you smiled up at him a little lovesick. he followed you back to the desk and waited patiently for you to stand across from him.

"do you want another recommendation, if you need books to make you sleepy i know this dickens is very good for insomnia" you held up bleak house to him. you had your own motivations for urging him to get another book, customer service aside.

pierre shook his head. "that’s fine, just returning this please" you were trying hard to think of something to say, something to make him stay. your computer was lagging and you looked up at pierre, his eyes bore into you and you smiled awkwardly.

"are you busy tomorrow evening?” pierre asked. your face lit up, you couldn’t help it, your cheeks began to hurt, you were smiling at him too much. "no.. why?" you sat back in your chair, arms crossed and grinning at him, you began to swivel your chair side to side a little.

pierre’s eyes were crescents moons, he chuckled and rested his head in his palm. "le cheval blanc at 8. i can pick you up" you scribbled your number onto a bookmark and slid it towards him. you couldn’t stop smiling at him. "okay, sounds fun". pierre puts it in his pocket and winked at you. "see you then" he left you on cloud nine.

you looked around you and snapped out of it. your face felt hot and you were in shock. of all the things you expected, that was not it. you had a date with pierre chavanges, at the best restaurant in town and soon. a real lesson in patience.

daydreaming masterlist

#swann arlaud #pierre chavanges #petit paysan #bloody milk #fanfic #y/n

[swann-song]

daydreaming - part two

summary: you start spiralling thinking about pierre. unbeknownst to you, he’s just the same

eavesdropping is a sin. so doing so in a church must be a double sin but you couldn’t help yourself. since pierre had come to your work, you’d become sensitive to any mention of him. your ears physically perked up and it took a lot of effort to appear casual, uninterested even. however, when you hear ms. chavanges talking to her friends about pierre, god would understand. before sunday sermon, you heard his mother asking which girls her friends thought suitable. you heard them throw around twelve or so names, with a comment on said girls profession, her dating history, families and some of the girls that had even asked about pierre themselves. you felt indignant that your name wasn’t brought up by the time the sermon started.

you weren’t paying any attention, your mind was spiralling. you’d been single a couple years now, and was generally well liked, the age gap between yourself and pierre was big but really your old enough now that it hasn’t mattered for a while. your thoughts circled and circled, you became angry at no one in particular. your mother kept dragging you up and poking your thighs to get you to pay attention but everything unrelated to pierre was in one ear, out the other.

when the congregation got up to leave, you tried to fidget around so you could hear a bit more of ms. chavanges plans but your mother pulled you out impatiently. "you weren’t listening at all were you" your mother scolded you as you walked to the car. "we have to hurry i have to make the cake before dinner". you stared out the window, quite puzzled, why wouldn’t ms. chavanges mention you, you knew she liked you, why was she only mentioning blondes, does pierre prefer blondes?. "what are you thinking about, your so quite" your mother was driving like a lunatic, but you’ve become completely desensitised to it.

you hadn’t mentioned pierre to anyone, not that there was anything to say. your mother knew you had a crush on him in your teens but she had rolled her eyes at it, it was a phase after all. you haven’t been pining for him for a decade, you’d liked others and dated even. you’d liked him at 16 and even now at 26, she’d just say your nostalgic.

that night you could barely sleep, it felt like you were regressing in some way, having an immature crush on someone so completely unavailable wasn’t a good sign. it had been harmless enough when he didn’t even know you, when you’d be on the same aisle at the supermarket and he wouldn’t notice, or when queuing at the post office together, it was mainly boredom than anything…

now that he knows your name though and the image of his smile as he waved at you is etched into your mind it isn’t fun anymore. although you are within each others orbit, pierre isn’t someone you have any connection to, you don’t have his number, you have no mutual friends or frequent the same places. you resent your mother for not being friends with his. for the next few weeks you become impatient and irritated, short with your friends, ditzy at work and very self hating.

you go to sleep daydreaming being close to pierre, reminiscing the deep hum in his voice, imagining his lips close to your cheek, speaking to you sweetly. as you get restless and the night goes on, the imaginings become less innocent. your hands roam your body imaging it’s pierre’s, his rough hands and strong arms. you feel a tinge of guilt and shame after your release, the fatigue sets in and you can finally sleep. it doesn’t feel great to be getting off to the thought of a guy you’ve had one conversation with.

*

pierre had built a fixation on you. he always had a lot of time to think and since he met you, he’d only thought of you. he always had a million and one chores, having the same conversations with his parents and friends. he thought of you constantly and had begun to zone out, everyone snaps their fingers in front of him to get his attention. he wanted to see you again, having already finished the russian epic, he knew he had an excuse to go back to your work. he had been putting it off, going through every scenario, trying to anticipate your reactions.

he found you on instagram, he scrolled through your profile every night. it didn’t have much, mostly group pictures from events, your amateur photography and book reviews. his fingers went back to the handful of pictures with your face. he was puzzled, how had you always been there and he hadn’t seen, was he really that blind and detached. your beautiful, unbelievably so. he thought of your lips again, the soft plum bottom lips, he imagined biting them. your voice was ringing in his ears, the way it twinkled, the mocking tone when you corrected him. he remembered your hair in a mess, the rings curling at your neck, some resting on your décolletage. he had wanted to run his hands through it, following it down your back, wanted to rest his hands around your waist.

"angelique bought you a new tart to try, isn’t that sweet of her" pierre’s mother didn’t even let him fully enter the kitchen, he hummed noncommittally and took a chair at the table. his father moved the plate of tart towards him. taking a fork, he had a bite and nodded to his parents, he was hardly qualified to judge but hoped it would get them off his back. the lunch had a tension from his mother he recognised, she was waiting to drop a bomb on him, while his father casually flipped through his paper, no ally to his son. this atmosphere wasn’t good for his digestion, that’s for sure.

his mother cleared her throat, pierre braced himself, that’s lunch done. "don’t you think angelique's a nice girl… quite pretty too" just what pierre needed, a set up. "the baker? of course, i suppose" that usually did the trick, his mother wasn’t the best matchmaker and it’s not like she knew he was obsessed with you, can’t blame her for trying. another pause. "i’ve invited her over for dinner tomorrow night, she’s bringing dessert" pierre's eyes narrowed at his mother. it’s one thing to talk about these girls but to invite them over was ridiculous. "isn’t that nice" he drawled, his mother noticed his insincerity and began to speak, pierre was already across the house and going to his office. angelique may be having dinner here tomorrow, but he won’t

so it’s decided, pierre grabbed his book determined to see you today.

daydreaming masterlist

#sorry if the slow burn is too slow #i should shut up lol #swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #pierre chavanges #fanfic #y/n

[callme-darling]

OKAY! i’m thinking about hate sex with pierre chavanges! idk! reader’s from another farming family or something and there’s always been a nasty rivalry! CULMINATING IN A MESSY ASS HOOKUP IN THE PASTURE IDKKKKK!!!

the cow prince & the dairy queen

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, fem reader, rival sex, teasing, petnames? (he calls you princess in a teasing way ig), praise if you squint, fingering, mostly porn, little plot, p-in-v, no protection, fingering, messy messy messy, dirty talk, outdoor sex, panty stealing (hehehe)

a/n: ANON!!!! THIS IS THE KIND OF SHIT I’M TALKING ABT!!!!

you can find pt.2 here!

your eyes rove over the newly published feedback for the farm’s overall status. surely your name would be sitting comfortably within the top five again. your brows scrunch together as your eyes slide down to #6, where the familiar letters arranging your last name were printed. “bull fucking shit..” you mumble to yourself as you see who took the “Top 5” slot out from underneath you: chavanges.

pierre-fucking-chavanges. you shake your head with a scoff and discard the papers on your kitchen counter. outside, you hear a distant cow, your signal that it was time to milk.

-

it’s well past noon when you find yourself in the far pasture. a recent storm had caused a lone tree branch to fall, damaging a fence post amidst the carnage. the branch had been chunked and hauled, leaving you to only worry about repairs now. you sat straddling the post when you hear the stones along the dirt road crunch behind you.

“the queen not with her herd? what a rarity these days…” the all too familiar nickname and voice instantly lit a fire under your skin. you twist around to shoot a glare at the man leisurely strolling up to you, his hands in the pockets of his blue jumpsuit.

“what business does the cow prince have with me?” you turn back to the skein of wire in your hand.

he crosses the shallow ditch and stands off to your side, eyes tracking your movements as you hop off the post to begin winding the thick wire between the posts.

“you see the new rankings?”

“if you just came here to gloat, you can fuck right off.”

“such a harsh mouth for a lady,” he chided, though his shit eating grin told you all you needed to know.

you stand on the opposite side of the mended fence, arms crossed over your chest as he leans his arms atop one of the posts. after a few beats of tense silence, you finally sigh. “what do you want, pierre?”

“i want to know what the hell you’re doing.”

“excuse me?” instantly, you’re taken aback. “uh.. fixing a fence? i thought that much was obvious?..”

“no,” he exhales, a hand running through his hair, “i want to know how your quality count is higher than mine.”

finally, it’s your turn to don the shit eating grin. “oh, is that what this is about?” you shrug, feigning an air of indignation. “i just know how to keep my girls happy.”

pierre rolls his eyes. “we both know you’re influencing the list.”

you give him a hard stare, eyes scanning his face, and when you see that he isn’t trying to pick at some stupid joke, you stalk up to him form your side of the fence. “are you insinuating that i’m bribing the fucking count?” you hold a breath,. “answer carefully, chavanges,” a warning.

he quirks a brow at you, and you swear there are fewer things that could’ve pissed you off more. “i guess maybe i’m asking. so, y/n, who did you have to fuck to give you those numbers? because i’ve seen your cows, and-“

your fist around his collar cuts him off. he stares at you, smug that he elicited a reaction. after a long moment, you shove him away. with a concentrated breath, you compose yourself.

“what, no denial from you?” he challenges again.

you watch him closely, face inches from his. then a sly smirk cracks on your lips, “careful pierre,” you lean in even closer, “you’re sounding jealous there. if you asked kindly, i may consider fucking you too.”

you catch how his jaw clenches, not expecting you to rebound it so effortlessly.

you keep pushing, “what?” you mock his tone from moments before. “no denial?”

“no.”

you make a small noise of surprise. “what?”

“i said ‘no’. i’ve got nothing to deny.”

you shake your head at his stoic gaze, his eyes unflinching as they find yours. “you’re crazy-“ you scoff.

“are you saying you don’t?”

“don’t what? want to fuck you too?”

silence hangs thick in the afternoon air between you two; a staring battle of wills. you could feel your heart hammering in your chest, the heat of the sun only adding to the suffocating tension. finally, pierre’s voice shatters the quiet.

“are you going to invite me over this fence, or do you intend to make me beg?”

you don’t know what compels you to answer, let alone so quickly, but your voice is quiet as you nod minutely, “didn’t think you’d need an invitation.”

and with that, he hops over the fence post.

you aren’t certain who drug who to the outskirts of the field, but you’re pressed against a tree, pierre’s thigh slotted between your legs, his lips pressed against yours. it’s a mess of tongue and desperation. his hands grope at your clothes, wasting no time in pulling the waistband of your jeans past your thighs, his long fingers teasing the soft skin of your thighs.

you suck in a breath as his knuckle brushes over your slick core. your head falls back against the trunk of the tree, eyes fluttering.

pierre is nothing but smug as he chuckles, “you can say what you want, but now i know all it takes is some kissing to make the little princess this wet..”

you want to glare at him, but with the way your lips are downturned, it comes off more as a pout.

“aw, come on now,” he coos as his fingers tease your cunt. “don’t give me that look.”

“shut up.” you groan, “you talk too damn much.”

a quiet “yes ma’am” is muffled by his lips on your throat, teeth scraping over the flesh before his tongue soothes it. two fingers sink into your heat, immediately stealing the air from your lungs as you gasp at the intrusion. he nips at the skin in the junction of your neck and shoulder, and you swear you feel his smirk.

he’s observant, you’ll give him that much. your hands grip his shoulders as his palm brushes your clit, his fingers knuckle-deep in your fluttering pussy, sucking his fingers in deeper as he prods experimentally at your gummy walls.

“oh, fuck..” you whisper, your nails pressing crescents into his back that are sure to bruise.

his fingers find that gummy spot that has your thighs shaking, his other hand coming to hold your throat, keeping you pinned to the tree as he worked your dripping cunt up to a climax. “is that how you like it?”

you can’t even bite back a remark, not with the way you only seem to be able to moan helplessly. “shhh..” he mumbles, mouth ghosting over the side of your face. “can’t have anyone hearing how i’m about to make you come… they’re gonna think i’m giving away my ranking.”

“fuck, fuck-“ you whine despite your own will, “shut the fuck up-“

his mouth is on yours. a tongue quickly prods into your mouth, swallowing any sounds and complaints.

your jaw falls slack when you feel his fingers hit that spot just right, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your legs twitch in an attempt to close. it’s embarrassing, really, how easily he managed to have you creaming around his fingers. you bite back a whimper when you feel pierre retract his hand from your core and bring his fingers to his lips. your face is unbearably warm as you watch him lick his fingers clean, blue eyes staring into yours.

you aren’t sure what confidence possessed you, but you knew you would lose your mind if you walked away like this.

“take off your pants.” you say flatly, tone hinted with an urgency you weren’t even expecting. you were already tugging your jeans down the rest of the way when he began to undo his jumpsuit.

his lips were on yours again, slightly softer this time, but with a lingering desperation. you allowed him to guide you, laying you back into the tall grass. he hovered over you, his body so close and so warm it made you feel dizzy.

as he kissed you, his hand slipped to his pants where he finally freed his leaking cock, his hand slowly pumping it a few times as he hissed into your mouth.

“hurry up,” you wiggle your hips, hand in his hair. “we don’t have all day, your majesty.”

his eyes catch yours and you find the familiar glint. “is this your way of begging for me?”

you roll your eyes, but suck in a quick breath when you feel his tip tease your folds. a breathy moan leaves your lips as you feel him slowly begin to push into you. “fuck, pierre..”

you’d never admit it, but the way he groaned when you said his name had your cunt gushing. “s-shit… so fuckin’ tight.., ah-“ his hands on either side of your head managed to keep him upright, but you both paused when his dick was fully sheathed in your clenching heat.

the moment of peace quickly gave way to an obscene display of primal lust. your hands gripped whatever they could find: clumps of grass and dirt, his arms, his waist. his own hand was clasped on your hip, holding you still as he fucked into you with a fervor unmatched by any man you’ve been with before.

you were rendered incoherent, broken spews of whiny moans and breathy whimpers all you could manage. at one point you feel a hand slip under your shirt to grope at your chest. his calloused fingers tugged on your nipple, making your back arch as your cunt spasmed.

“pierre-“ you warn with a gasp.

his mouth fell slack as he breathe heavily with a groan, leaning down to plant a sloppy kiss to your lips. he panted inbetween kisses, “show me. show me how filthy you really are.” he angled your hips up, his dick hitting even deeper with each thrust. “show me how pretty you are when you come on my cock.”

you don’t even register the sounds coming from you when you come. his grip on your hip is near-bruising and he thrusts a few more times before pulling out. a trail of white paints your stomach with warmth as his dick twitches in his hand.

you stay like that for a moment; him kneeling over your spent figure, both of you panting softly under the heat of the summer sun. few words are exchanged as you both begin shimmying back into your clothes. he tosses you your jeans as he’s adjusting his shirt.

something’s missing.

you look inside your pants and scan the small area around you, confusion etched on your brow. you’re about to say something when pierre cuts you off.

“i think you lost your underwear somewhere.”

you stare into his unflinching eyes. with a shrug, you sigh and step into your jeans, grimacing when you feel the rough material stick to your core.

you both wander back to the dirt road where the mended fence still stood. with a small nod, he lit a cigarette and began to walk back in the direction of his farm. you stood and watched him.

you were about to turn and go your own way home when your eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar baby blue peeking out of the back pocket on his jumpsuit. you curse under your breath, chuckling in disbelief as you slowly started your way back.

#ꕤ ₊˚✧ mailbox . #♱₊˚✧ filth . #swann arlaud #petit paysan #pierre chavanges #bloody milk

[lichenes]

✿°•∘masterlist∘•°✿

"Anatomy of a Fall" ~ Vincent Renzi - you look for you keys and find love [sfw] Vincent Renzi - you go on a walk [sfw] Vincent Renzi - morning kisses [sfw] Vincent Renzi - a fantasy, a meeting and a fall [slight nsfw] Vincent Renzi - pt 2 to this^ [sfw] Vincent Renzi - alphabet [nsfw] Vincent Renzi - making up for a fight [nsfw] Vincent Renzi - reader jealous over Sandra [sfw] Vincent Renzi - jealous vincent [sfw] Sandra Voyter - smut... [nsfw] Vincent Renzi - you meet him during your law school days and then years after... [sfw] Vincent Renzi - a sequel-prequel to this^ a nice not-date in the park with him during your law school days [sfw] Vincent Renzi - he reads you a French book [sfw] Vincent Renzi - 7 minutes in heaven and a confession [sfw] Vincent Renzi - museum date!! [sfw] Vincent Renzi - doing it in his office [nsfw] Vincent Renzi - first meetings and physical contact [sfw] Sandra Voyter - jealousyyyy [sfw] Vincent Renzi - hcs [sfw/nsfw]

"The Bare Necessity" ~ Pierre Perdrix - meeting pierre and he's awkward [sfw] Pierre Perdrix - two oblivious idiots in love [sfw] Pierre Perdrix - sequel to this^ drunkenly confessing to eachother [sfw] Pierre Perdrix- domestic moments [sfw] Pierre Perdrix - taking a bath together [sfw]

"Bloody Milk" ~ Pierre Chavanges - slow mornings [sfw]

"Romantics Anonymous" ~ Antoine - meeting him for the first time [sfw]

IRL people ~ Swann Arlaud - teaching you french and giving you a reward [sfw] Swann Arlaud - looking after you when you have a cold [sfw] Swann Arlaud - domestic moments with him... [sfw]

"Good Omens" ~

Aziraphale&Crowley - dadfic :D

asks open :D

#masterlist #i write for most fandoms #sooo send me asks and whatnot :D

[swann-song]

daydreaming

your a librarian in a sleepy town and when pierre chavanges, the cow prince borrows a book your dreams blur into reality

part one : part two : part three : part four : part five

finale

the aesthetic for my fanfic, it's my first time writing so thanks to everyone who reads it ilysm <3

#swann arlaud #petit paysan #bloody milk #fanfic #moodboard #masterlist