#I wish I was a cedar tree

[luminalunii97]

religious trauma where the best coping machanism you came up with was pretending religion didn't exist at all, which is a challenge on its own considering I'm living in a society that even law and order is based on religion.

[shriekthemighty]

I want to be the type of person with a Signature Scent so bad, but finding scents I like is shockingly difficult, especially when buying online. Unless a scent is the most basic thing imaginable (ie. the free sample I got that was just called Strawberry. It smells like artificial strawberries.) then there is a 98% chance it smells nothing like the description.

And I know that scents change when you wear them, but that shit costs money! If I already have a high chance of not liking the actual smell of a scent, despite liking all of the things it claims to smell like, and then I have to factor in the possibility of liking it in the bottle, but not on my skin, then how am I supposed to find a scent I actually want to wear without spending hundreds of dollars?

Is there some sort of secret code to deciphering what a scent is described as versus what it will actually smell like once you receive it? I am aware of the concept of top, bottom, and middle notes but like, for example, I recently bought Attempted Murder and Captain Moonlite from Sucreabeille. Both of them mention smoke and wood in their scent notes. I haven't worn either of them yet, but neither of them smell even remotely like smoke or wood just from sniffing them. Attempted Murder smells strongly of cornchips/feet, which is a problem I've had with a few Sucreabeille scents.

Why do they not smell like what they say they will? I just want to smell like a tree. :(

[violetsiren90]

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others.
You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer. 

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like. 

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again. 

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks.


~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place. 

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name. 

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit.


~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen.
 

-Fin-

[buckets-and-trees]

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts

Fandom: MCU Collection: Cedar Trees Characters/Pairings: King!Steve x Queen!Reader Word Count: 1.3k Summary: After a week of festivities celebrating the high winter holidays, you are traveling with your husband to the summer palace to retreat for a week just the two of you, to spend the Yule Week together.

Content Warnings: royal AU, some modest agoraphilia, vaginal fingering, cum eating, fluff because these two are over the moon for each other

Logistical Notes: This is the reveal for the other kink I teased in this ask @stargazingfangirl18... EVERYONE IGNORE THAT IT'S ONLY STILL NEW YEAR'S EVE IN LIKE HAWAII AT THIS POINT, OKAY? It still counts.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You smile as Steve’s knees gently jostle against yours which are covered in your skirts and a warm blanket. The royal carriage was not quite built for his long legs, at least not like this. It wasn’t any problem when you sat together on the same side, but he’d insisted on sitting across from you. You had teased him that he would fall asleep on your journey, and he had maintained that he would not, but that sitting with his back to the front of the carriage would ensure that he wouldn’t fall asleep.

And yet he sat across from you, slightly slumped over, legs relaxed, very much sleeping.

It’s why you’d snuck a book inside your fur muff and only snuck it out when he’d finally succumbed to his exhaustion.

And so you were more than happy to see him resting. It’s mid-morning on New Year’s Eve, and you could hardly believe you were here. When he came to you a few weeks before with his proposed plan, you were a little surprised but incredibly pleased when he told you he wanted to retreat with you to the summer palace for a week for the new year. He worked sunup to sundown, tirelessly fulfilling his duties as the devoted king to his people that he was. They loved him for it, and so did you.

Although the royal carriage was well built and very sturdy, it was still a testament to how tired he was that he could sleep as it rolled along over the roads in the countryside, but ultimately a particularly rough patch of road jostles you both, and he jerks awake.

“Good morning again, my sleepy king.”

He frowns, but there’s only warmth in his blue eyes. “How long did you let me sleep when I did not wish to, my queen?”

You glance at your book and shrug a shoulder at him. “You know I do not mind; you deserve your rest.”

He takes a look at his pocket watch and complains, “An hour robbed of your company.”

You laugh, reach across for his hand, and tug on his arm to pull him over to sit next to you. “We get to have each other for an entire week,” you say, your easy smile splitting into an eager grin.

“And I look forward to every minute.” He presses his forehead against yours as he settles in next to you.

“You’re cold, my lord,” you fuss, and quickly lift the wool blanket to cover his lap as well.

He chuckles as you shift a little and place your fur muff between the two of you, grab his hands, and stuff them inside with yours. “I’m not that cold.”

You tsk at him, “There’s no need for you to be cold at all.”

“I suppose you are right,” he concedes. He leans in again and captures your lips in a kiss. “Not when I have you,” he murmurs against your lips. You melt into him, your lips part, and he teases his tongue inside.

You become lost in his kiss until he starts shifting, and his hand moves under the blanket, and you gasp he rucks up your skirt and petticoats until he can move his hand beneath the swaths of fabric to brush up your thigh and right to your center.

“Steve!” you protest in a dazed but shocked whisper. You press your thighs together. “We can’t!”

You can’t help but think of the coachman and the footman riding on the front of the carriage, and the six guards riding along behind.

“Oh, I believe you’ll find we can do all manner of things in here, my love,” he insists. With his hand still between your clenched thighs, he reclaims your lips and squeezes the tender flesh of your leg, easing you open again as he kisses you with such fervent passion you can’t help but surrender to him.

You whimper as his fingers slid along your folds, and you know he finds you’re growing wet for him already.

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek. “Keep your pretty sounds soft, my love, only for me.”

“Steve,” you whine.

He noses along your neck, but you know exactly the wicked grin he must have across his face.

“An hour of wasted time, neglecting my queen, I must make it up to you.”

You bite your lip when he inserts the first finger into your warm hole, and you clutch his arm – not wanting him to stop now but because you need to hold onto him. He pushes it slowly in and out of you a few times before adding a second finger. You cant your hips forward to give him a better angle. Steve keeps the slow pace, working up your wetness on his fingers.

“I want you dripping for me,” he whispers in your ear.

“Oh, God,” the soft plea tumbles out, and you drop your head back.

Steve presses hot kisses to your neck, but only briefly as it’s too much pleasure for you to keep quiet, and he chuckles as he quickly angles your head back to him with his free hand so he can smother your moans with his mouth. He curls his fingers up to find the spot you both love for him to stroke on the front of your walls, and he knows exactly when he’s found it as your body arches for him. He rubs there insistently, expertly, and your body starts to tighten the strings pulling toward your climax.

He doesn’t rush it, pushing you until you’re mewling into his mouth between demanding, hungry kisses. Then he presses his thumb to your pulsing clit, giving it ample pressure, circling, until the pleasure driving at the dual points knocks you over the edge into bliss, and you convulse against him, breaking away from his kiss so you can breathe.

Steve takes the pressure off your clit, but slowly keeps stroking your cunt as it clenches around his fingers, bringing you gently down through your climax.

“So beautiful, my love,” he speaks softly against your temple, pressing a kiss there.

You laugh softly, feeling the giddiness and satisfaction of the act the two of you just engaged in whilst traveling through the forest in your carriage. You know Steve was mindful of keeping what you were doing quiet enough to stay private, but the thought that you might have been overheard had been its own forbidden thrill.

You turn your body more toward him. “Steve, that was…” you let the words linger, and smile up at him.

“It was,” he says. He brings his fingers up to his lips and licks them thoroughly clean. You can only watch him, concentrating on taking deep, steady breaths.

You begin to reach for his waistline, but he grabs your hands in both of his. “Oh, no. I’m not confident we can keep any sounds I would make to a discreet level for anything you might have in mind.”

You laugh and feel your neck and cheeks heat in a mixture of desire and shock and a touch of flustering.

“Here,” he says, angling his body more toward you, then scoops up both your legs in the heap of skirt and petticoats, and pulls them over his lap. You help him by scooting closer, and he drapes one arm around your back. “Let me kiss my lovely wife a bit more, and we can talk a while before we get to the palace.”

“Sounds perfect, husband.”

He presses a tender kiss to your lips now, and you place a hand on his chest over his heart, looking forward to the week ahead, only the two of you, no engagements or responsibilities, only time together, and you could not be more happy and content.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

READ THE NEXT PART: LOVE THAT'S LAID BESIDE ME

[whaledenwtf]

Halsin x Dryad!Reader - The Summer Solstice

IM BACK BITCHES!!! Instead of doing my presentation for university I'm typing this. You're welcome.

Cross-posted on AO3 here: Link All other links will be at the end of the fic!! ENJOY

Warnings: afab!reader and Male Smut, Breeding Kink, Creampie, Oral (Female and Male Receiving), BEACH SEX YEAH, Size Difference, Oh Yeah Did I Mention MATING PRESS

Once again, my efforts to keep him as true to character have been made. :)

WORD COUNT: 3630

Link to some Summer Solstice Rituals I reference here: LINK

You couldn't help but be impressed. It was the summer solstice, and the Arch Druid of the Emerald Grove handling the rituals of the day was excelling. Excelling enough to gain the attentions of Silvanus himself. You were watching his back from behind an oak tree, admiring the musculature. He was tall, strong. You liked that. Your mind flitted between the mortal and what had happened earlier in the day. The Oak Father presented himself to you in your mind earlier today, expressing his excitement of one of his followers.

"His name is Halsin. He has excelled in many of the rituals and in assisting nature. He has even reached Arch Druid status." He had said offhandedly. You were always a curious Dryad, and knew you had to investigate. You knew Silvanus was meddling but you haven't been around mortals in decades. You wanted to join the festivities after all; the summer solstice was your favourite holiday! The flowers are already in full bloom, the summer air is sweet with the smell of hydrangeas and peonies. You knew many of your companions were celebrating on their own, with nature and chosen company. You decide to get a little closer to the celebrations, walking out from behind the oak tree you were hiding behind. Many of the druids turned to look at you and gasped. Many of them dropped their lutes and violins, the sounds of nature becoming louder in the sudden silence. Many of them came to you, with offerings of honeyed mead and flower crowns. You crouch down to a small elf child holding a marigold and lavender crown.

"Little one, may I wear your crown?" They look at their parents for guidance before nodding and placing the crown above your head. It blooms further once it is placed upon you, and the smell of lavender wafts around the air. You pluck one of the lavender buds from your crown and put it behind the child's ear, smiling.

"Now we match." The child giggles in wonder, before running to hide behind her mother's leg, watching you in glee. You rise to stand, only to notice the Arch Druid had turned around to watch you. You are stunned by his beauty. His face is angular, with a tattoo on the right side and a gruesome bear scar on the left. He was perfect, in your eyes. You smile at the crowd you attracted, before walking past them to reach Halsin. When you get close, you smell him and are enamored further. Pine, musk and cedar. You can understand why Silvanus had sung his praises; he was the embodiment of nature.

"We haven't had a dryad join in our festivities yet. May Silvanus preserve you." You bow dramatically, the vines and leaves that make up your clothing sway beautifully behind you.

"An honour it is to meet you, Arch Druid Halsin. Your reputation precedes you." He chuckles, his voice deep and booming.

"I hope you heard all good things I hope." He smirks down at you, hazel eyes glistening in the twilight. The last beams of sunlight shine on the both of you. You glow with a radiance, like water reflecting sunlight, and he is attracted to you. Your beauty, your essence, is all captivating.

"Silvanus has only sung your praises, Halsin. I had hoped to see you in person and was graced by your ceremony. Wonderfully done." He blushes, the tips of his ears burning crimson. He seems at shock from your words; Silvanus has praised him? He feels truly blessed. You turn to look at the onlookers, who were still gazing at your beauty.

"Please, continue your celebrations. The Oak Father wishes you all enjoy yourselves in the time of festivities. Enjoy nature as he intended." You words were clear, and not a moment later, did everyone begin celebrating again. You turn back to Halsin, who is watching you in wonder. You blush lightly under his gaze, before sidestepping to look at the altar of light.

"Beautiful spread. I see you added citrine and pyrite; as well as some local blooms." That seems to snap him out of his spell and he nods.

"The celebration of the solstice is one I take very seriously." You turn to look at him over your shoulder.

"May I?" He waves over the altar, allowing you to do your magic. Your eyes begin to glow green, and sunflowers begin to bloom in your hand. You lay them aesthetically on the altar, smiling.

"Thank you." He tells you earnestly. You giggle at his enthusiasm, smiling as you turn back to him.

"Of course-" You look at the horizon, noticing the the sun had set. "Well, I believe it is time for the bonfire and feast! Oh, I haven't been to solstice festivities in years." You tell him excitedly.

"Join us." He tells you. You smile widely at him, and his heart flutters in his chest.

"I'd love to. I'll dance- oh and sing! I'm so excited!" You are buzzing in place. He finds it adorable. His hand goes to the small of your back ushering you forward.

"Go on! Enjoy yourself." His hand feels warm on your skin, and you blush.

"What about you?" He waves you off.

"I tend to look over the festivities. Have to make sure we do not lose any cubs." You bite your lip, thinking. You had an idea.

"What if I ask you to celebrate with me? Would you join then?" His gaze glances down at your lips before meeting your eyes.

"I can make an exception, for such a beautiful guest." You blush once again. He smirks as your skin darkens, and he can't help but wonder if that blush shows up on other parts of your body, hidden to his eyes.

"Then I will make sure to save a dance for you." You go on your tippy-toes, planting a soft kiss on his cheek, before running forward into the fray. His hand holds his face where you had kissed him, and he smiles. He can't wait.

You had spent the last hour dancing with the children of the Grove. You were showing them the dryad's dance, a sensual dance with a lot of swirling; your arms swaying. Like a willow tree you wave and sway, the wind following your movements. Your eyes catch Halsin watching at you, a heat in his gaze. At the end of the dance, you end with a flourish, arms spread up towards the moon. Flowers and flower petals fall over the children, who squeal and giggle excitedly. They come to hug you and you pet many of them, sprouting daisies and marigolds to give to each child. Once they receive their gifts, they run around the grove, chasing each other and playing. The music changes to a very familiar tune. The musicians begin playing "Down by the River", and you begin to sing. Your voice, ethereal and otherworldly echoes in nature. You begin to dance, voice still echoing. Like a siren, Halsin felt the pull of your voice, and began to edge closer to you subconsciously. Once he gets close enough, you grab his wrist, tugging him into a dance. You begin to circle one another, one of your hands palm to palm with one another. You continue to sing, your gazes locked. He is entranced by you.

"Down, down, down by the river." You end the song, twirling around Halsin. You both bow at one another, as everyone applauds you both.

"Thank you for the dance." He tells you huskily. You squirm under his gaze.

"I was hoping for more than one dance." You tell him quietly. He feels particularly emboldened by your response, and puts his hand around your waist.

"What were you thinking of?" He asks you quietly. Your hands lay on his chest.

"Perhaps we can celebrate the solstice together... privately." He hums, his arms pulling you closer to him. You feel his strength through your close bodies, and admire him further, hands caressing his chest, mapping his body.

"What of my duties?" He asks you. He doesn't seem to want to decline. You look around, noticing everyone having fun and participating in ritualistic dances.

"Meet me near the shoreline after the last song has ended and nature's music is loud again. I will wait for you." Your lips graze his gently. You taste like freshwater and thyme. His lips become numb, and his mind is emptied of all rational thought. His eyes glow amber as he watches you walk to the shore, hips swaying. A low growl leaves his chest, and he almost transforms into a bear. He can't help but curse his need to diligently do his duties. This night will feel eternal.

When the last notes of music have died down, and all that is left of the large bonfire is embers, he seeks your company. The night is dark, lit by glowing mushrooms and occasional group of fireflies. His path is dark, but he has never felt such peace. He walks the path to the shoreline, where your voice carries as you sing; the sound of crashing waves accompanying your music. His heart beats loudly in his ears, the tips of them twitching in his excitement. In all his years of existence, he has never lain with a dryad. It seems surprising, for many of his years he had taken an extensive amount of lovers, all of which were of many different races and ages. His bare feet finally hit the sand, and he sinks slightly in his continued path to you. He sees your ears twitch before you turn around, smiling.

"I was beginning to get concerned." You tell him softly. Your voice was gentle, and the emotions that burst forward from his heart urged him to speed in his walk to you, almost sprinting.

"You needn't be concerned of me." You rise to greet him, hands stretch out. He gets close enough to grasp them, and pulls you forward. You land on his chest, and are forced to look up at him. The stars are reflecting beautifully in your eyes. They are focused on his own gaze, and he has never felt more grateful for all of the actions, faults and obstacles in his life that had brought him here; with you.

"Can I not be concerned for someone I care about?" He blushes at the remark, and you notice the druid's skin darken. His hands let go of your own to grasp the sides of your face.

"You care?" You bite your lip, watching his amorous gaze.

"When Silvanus spoke of you, I must admit it was not the first time I've heard of the admirable and fearless Arch Druid Halsin. Your bravery and attunement to nature always attracted me to the idea of you. Now that I stand before you, my heart beats in tune with yours; the idea of any other being is far away in my mind. You take the forefront of many of my thoughts, and have been for the entirety of the day." His hands pull your face forward, his lips smashing against yours. This kiss was unlike the other; passion, excitement and need were felt in this kiss. You moan against him, and his tongue takes advantage of your lowered defenses. Your tongues move against each other languidly, caressing one another. You pull away from him, only to push him down so he is laying in the sand. You sit atop his lap, and begin kissing him again.

He decided that if lightning had struck him in this moment, he'd die the happiest man alive. Such words and attentions he had never heard, especially from the lips of someone he's come to admire so much. The world around them dissipated, and all that was left was them and time indefinite- your words and touches, your two souls joining in nature's basest form of love. His hands caress the sides of your body, his touch igniting heat wherever they touch, a heat blossoming in the very core of your being.

When air becomes a necessity for you both, you separate. You begin to pull his ceremonial tunic upwards, before laying it gently next to you both, taking care in the important garb. His pants are next, and his undergarments fall with them. You kneel between his legs and admire him. It seems Silvanus had taken great care in his looks, and his personality. If you hadn't known better, you'd believe him a god; crafted from your mind's eye. In a moment, he lifts himself up to remove your dryadic clothing, mostly leaves and vines, so he could gaze upon you. Once both naked, your touches become lighter, hovering over him ever so slightly. His skin breaks out in goosebumps, the hairs rising slightly.

"Your beauty is one I never thought I could ever gaze upon." You tell him sweetly. His eyes leave your face for a moment to gaze at the rest of you.

"Sitting here, with you, shows me that some of nature's greatest beauties are ones I hadn't had the chance to gaze upon yet. No words can even begin to describe how I see you in this moment; your beauty cannot be fully grasped with something as limiting as words." You crawl further up into the crevice of his thighs, your belly rubbing against his hardened member. Your noses are touching now, and you are exchanging each other's air.

"I need you." You whimper, and one of his hands grasp the back of your neck, under the thickness of your hair to pull you into a savouring kiss. His other hand goes to tread the path of your body; from grasping and playing with the pebbled peaks of your breasts, to caressing your bountiful curves to the apex of your thighs. You moan into his mouth as his thick fingers tickle the outline of your cunt, feeling the wetness that has gathered there. He moans when he realizes truly how wet you had become. His fingers then dip in between the seam of your cunt, to gather some of your nectar before separating from your lips to taste you.

His eyes flash golden at the taste of you on his tongue. Your wanton moan turns into a shriek as he pulls you up until your cunt is levelled with his mouth.

"I'm going to savour you now. Devour you, until you cannot stand, and your voice is strained. May I taste you, sweet one?" You respond to him by laying your full weight on his face. He wastes no time in savouring your scent, and... devouring you. His tongue explores your depths, as his nose bumps into your clit. You grind on him, juices flowing down his chin. He grabs your plush thighs, grinding you harder into him. He pulls away for a moment to release his grab on one of your thighs before plunging two of his thick fingers into you and sucking on your pearl. You will not last with his attentions. He is feasting on you, your moans and pants urging him further.

"That's right, my little lavender. Finish on my tongue and fingers. Cum for me." The authoritative tone his voice took shook you to your core, and you finish on his fingers and talented tongue. With a moan, your juices leak out of you. He begins to lick your mess, moaning at the taste of your essence. His grip on your thighs have waned enough for you to scramble away, legs shaking. You land with a thump on the ground between his thighs, grasping his cock in your hand. You stroke him once, then twice, before rubbing the pad of your thumb on his head and spreading his precum around. You pull away to taste him, and moan. He growls at your debauchery.

"I'm going to taste you, Halsin. Need to taste you." You huff out as if out of breathe, before taking him in your hand again. Your lips descend on him, tasting him. Your tongue was heavenly on him, and he grasped your hair in his hands, bucking into you. You moan around him, taking him to the back of your throat. He grunts at your attentions, grasp tightening. You pull away for a moment, taking deep breathes before looking him in the eye and taking him further into your mouth. You reach the patch of hair at his base, the tip of his cock hitting the furthest parts of your throat.

"O-oh. Fuck-" Hearing him lose his sense of self, and the fact he uttered an expletive made you feverish, and you began to deepthroat him, ushering him to thrust into your mouth. He takes advantage of your wants, thrusting into you. Your hands move upwards, fondling his heavy sack. Without warning he thrusts deep, finishing in your throat. You swallow as much as you could, the taste of him tart but delicious; you want more. You continue to suck and bob up and down his member, until he cums again, shaking and groaning loudly. You pull off of him, gathering the cum and spittle that leaked from your mouth and putting it back in your mouth, savouring him. He watches you with hunger. He sits up and growls, exciting you. His eyes glow amber, and without warning he transforms into a brown cave bear. You bite your lip at the transformation, aroused by his show of strength. He transforms back into his elvish form, stumbling.

"I-I'm so sorry, I transform when my baser... urges become too much." You shake your head, before sitting down and spreading your legs. Your hand spreads your cunt open, and he watches how your thighs and lips glisten with arousal.

"Breed me, my bear." His eyes flash golden again, but he refrains from transforming again. His arms grasp your thighs and pull them to your shoulders. You're bent in half, and the tip of his still very hard cock is poking at your entrance.

"Please Halsin. Take me. Make me yours." You tell him, urging him to thrust into you. He grunts and thrusts into you with one stroke, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches off the sand, breasts pressed against his chest. Your lips meet again, teeth clashing at the force of your kisses. His thrusts are rough, and he continues to hit that sweet spot. You keen in his mouth, and he chuckles breathlessly. He continues his pace, hitting that spot effortlessly each time. His hips grind against your clit with each thrust, and your body is overstimulated quickly. You know you will not last long, his passion and accuracy in driving you wild bringing you closer to your precipice.

His lips leave yours, before latching onto your neck and biting you. You caterwaul at the action, gripping his triceps tightly. Your nails are digging into the skin, but he does not care. He is selfish in this moment, wishing you would stay like this with him forever, until the world has disintegrated around them. He removes his teeth from your neck, before his lips latch onto your nipple and suckle from them. Its too much, and you arch your back painfully as you finish. Your constricting walls bring him to completion, your cunt milking his cock. You whimper as you feel his heavy load inside you, leaking around his cock. He thrusts again, and both of you seize with sensitivity. He pulls out of you gently, before laying down next to you. His arm pulls you onto his chest, and you bask in his warmth.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to you. Your head snaps up to look at him. He looks upset, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong, my bear?" He shakes his head.

"I'm selfish. I'm afraid for the sun's rise for that may take you away from me forever. I... I do not want to let you go, my love." Your eyes get misty, and your hug him fiercely.

"Why apologize? If I could I'd spend eternity in your embrace." His arms wrap around you, holding you to him tightly.

"But you cannot." He whispers. A tear leaves your eyes.

"I'm afraid not. But I can promise to come to you again. When the wind wafts the smell of lavender and marigolds in the air, that will be me calling to you." He closes his eyes and savours his last moments with you.

"Then let us enjoy what time we have left." You nod, wiping your tears from your eyes.

Until sunrise, he spends his time with you in silence, basking in your company. He has never felt such loss when the person has not left his embrace. This time with you has changed him, and he does not know how he can continue his devotion and duties after meeting you. When the dawn breaks, you're moving out of his arms, heartbroken.

"I will visit you as soon as I can." You promise him, getting dressed in your dryadic dress. He pulls his clothes onto his body, which has become cold without your touch.

"I will not forget this moment with you-" He pauses, frowning at his realization. "And… What is your name?" He asks you, cringing as he realizes his poor manners. You look over your shoulder, smiling gently as the sun hits your body.

"(Y/N). Hopefully fate allows us another moment together, my handsome bear." You disappear with a flourish, fully bloomed lavender and marigolds left where you were standing. Y/N… Your name is sweet on his tongue, sweeter than the taste of you. He can never forget a name as sweet as yours, a name that will probably stay branded on his brain until his last breathe.

THE END.

If you'd like to request anything, please do so! I'm getting back into writing and I'd love to write anything inspired by the people! Send requests here: LINK Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist: LINK

[icarustypicalfall]

There you are

MASTERLIST

summary: period comfort, no further explanation

warnings: SFW fem! reader, periods, tiny headcanons\fic sorry

note: not proofread, I'll edit it later

Also I'll post another fic about rudy in the day, i am just emptying my head or I'll explode.

“Like fire weeping from a cedar tree, know that my love would burn with me We'll live eternally”

This man is just too sweet :(

Rudy is usually just too sweet, he never stops offering affection, his gentle touch and tiny kisses are enough to cease your worries and sorrow.

He always keeps a snack and water in his nightstand in case you woke up at night.

When you wanted to come over, he was more than excited. He wanted to pamper you and take care of you.

His strongest trait is how observant and thoughtful he can be.

Rudy loved you deerly, he wished to give you the Ultimest love and unlimited comfort.

He offered to go shopping "to restock his apartment"

Secretly wanting to know what brands you used/prefered so he gets some for you, "just in case" :(

He ended getting more than just one packet of tampons.

Rudy got a whole section of sanitary/hygiene products and put them in a special drawer in his bathroom.

He even got your prefered soap and conditioner. Along a vanilla scented candle and a plushie :(

You thought he'll change after some time?

Ha

Jokes on you

Turns out he planned to be the sweetest man till his last breath :((

Today, because it had to be today :(

He figured out something was wrong when you woke up earlier than you usually do.

You were restless, fidgeting and roaming around.

He realized you were on your period when you kept holding your stomach and complain about back pain and headaches.

Your burning cheeks as you nodded, saying you were okay were the key.

Why were you embarrassed of telling him?

He didn't understand this embarrassment, you had nothing to feel shame about.

Rudy made sure to check the calendar and marked it down.

He did even keep a tracker on his phone for this time of month. Why wouldn't he?

He uttered, eyeing your tired form

"you alright, mi Cielo?"

He sighed when you nodded with an embarrassed yes.

You were lying

You were in fact, facing the ultimate- greatest - throeful - most painful period cramp of your entire existence.

You shed a tear while keeping the huge grin from ear to ear

Ha

You thought that'll fool him?

Nuh uh

He told you to go lay while he prepared something

Rudy preppared you a cup of warm tea, smiling as he handed you the cup

You sipped the hot drink, grateful for his kindness

He whispered, sitting beside you on the coach.

"There is no need to be embarrassed...I get it...you are not feeling well, and thats understandable, I just want you to be comfortable."

He smiled, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

When you finally told him, he chuckled, kissing your forehead.

"Thats alright, I figured you had it...just wanted to be here for you, mija"

You thought he'll be annoyed because of your mood swings or cravings?

Ha

Fool

"You are not whiny nor too sensative. You are just a human being...there is nothing to be guilty of, cariña.

"We can take the day off and rest at home with some pizza and icecream..."

He was startled when you started to tear up.

"Mi amor if you don't want pizza we can make something else!"

He nodded when you explained through tears you were just a tid more emotional, and he was just too sweet:(

Rudy kissed your tears, his lips brushing over your eye lids and cheeks :(

He smiled, uttering.

"I love you...you deserve the world, amor, you hear me?"

He said in a soft tender tone, letting his eyes roam on your tired face.

"we will have a nice day and you must rest as much as you want. I got you, amor..."

He ended by making the best pizzas. He gave you medicine, a warm bottle to put on your tummy and the best back masage of your existence :(

Rudy was unlike any men you ever met, he was just, him.

He treated you like the most precious gem.

He loved you deerly.

In fact, he wished for nothing more than holding you in nights like these, where you bury your head in his neck and he tells you fairytale in Spanish till you fall asleep.

He adored you

this could be me but instead i have an exam and dump finals to take care of. help

[therotconsumer]

Cedar waxwing

Neighbor found it in their driveway- laid the little fellow to rest by a tree in an empty lot

An absolutely beautiful bird I wish I had the pleasure of seeing alive

[meg81589]

So…I wrote this a while ago and I have been too afraid to post it until now. I have written fan fiction before but never smut. Please tell me what you think and any constructive feedback! Also if the formatting is weird I apologize this was written and posted all on my phone. My biggest influences are @lokischambermaid, @lokisgoodgirl, @tricksterlokilaufeyson, and @holdmytesseract

Summary: Sometimes you forget how observant Loki is, and this time he fulfills a desire you thought you hid well

Pairings: Loki x Reader x Steve Rogers

Warnings: Minors DNI, Smut, Polyamory if you squint, Dom!Loki, Dom!Steve, Sub!Reader, Oral (female receiving), DP, Creampie (wrap it before you tap it),

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki is observant, very observant. You often forgot just how observant he can be. Like the time you broke your toe while you were on a mission and once the jet landed he came over with an ice pack and carried you back to your flat. How about the time you accidentally wore your “special” lingerie to work and Bucky got a .5 second glimpse when you were sparring. Loki was aware immediately, even with Barnes killer poker face and your bottom was sore for a week.

So how it could have slipped your mind about Loki’s skills you really didn’t know. Maybe a part of you did it on purpose. This time, however, you were stunned into silence as you looked over to the men in front of you.

“Surprised my dear?” Loki asked in a smug voice sending delicious chills down to your heated core. “Loki, I still don’t know what I’m doing here” Steve spoke, looking confused. Both men had just come back from a mission and a shower smelling like a mix of cedar, woodsmoke and pine trees.

As you looked them over, you forgot how good Loki looked in simple green tunic and black pants. After a side glance at Steve you noticed he was wearing a light blue shirt which clung to his muscles, especially with his arms crossed as they were. He also wore a simple pair of grey sweatpants that you wished were just a little bit tighter. Loki’s smirk grew as you could see mischief and heat flood his eyes.

“I will explain, Captain.” Loki spoke as he walked over to your side. “You see our lovely y/n here?” Steve nodded with a roll of his eyes barely disguising his heated look. “Well, I have noticed her ‘checking you out’ as you humans have called it. Although eye fucking might be a better term”. You turned to face Loki, cheeks on fire, surprised (but not really looking back) that he noticed.

He smirked at you and spun you to face Steve with his hands gripping your shoulders. You immediately knew by his grip that you would not be able to look away, forced to ensure the sweet humiliation that Loki (and you) secretly loved. “I have noticed how her eyes linger on your form, how she sweeps her gaze up and down, how her eyes linger on your lips, your chest, your arms and your cock.” “I have sensed her desire for you, her need growing when you around and get desire pooling and dampening her clothing”.

Steve cheeks turned as red as yours start and made a small grunting noise. You looked down quickly and noticed a small tent beginning to form in his pants. You shivered in Loki’s grip and he ground his hardening erection into your rear. Loki then slowly walks you forward towards Steve.

“I have also noticed you, Captain. Your own eyes have caressed her body like you wish your hands could”. You had reached Steve and you could see his eyes looked guilty but he could no longer hid the heat in them. “Loki, y/n I’m sor..”

“Captain, you are mistaken. I’m not hear to call you out. In fact quite the opposite. Y/N and I have a very special relationship and as her Master it is my job to notice her desires even if she never voices them”. Loki’s voice took on a dominating tone with a side of irritation at that last comment. You swallowed loudly and Loki gave you a swift slap on you ass. You gasped and moaned wantonly, looking at Steve sheepishly through your lashes, head lowered.

Steve dropped his arms and looked at you with unbridled hunger now. He quickly turned to Loki. “So what are you getting at then?” he asked, failing to keep his eyes from glancing back to you. “Im glad you asked Captain” Loki answered in his most seductive tone “I have seen her desires and I have glimpsed yours too. I thought tonight we could fulfill all our desires.” Your head spun quickly to look at Loki who smiled with wicked desire. ”Yes my dear, as much as I am possessive over your body, I also like to share”. “I also can admire a fine male specimen as the captain and I admit, I have been dying for a look at…how did Tony call it…Americas Ass?” You felt you blood light on fire and new desires awaken with through to about Loki and Steve. You were drenched and about ready to beg, however it seemed the Captain needed a bit more convincing.

Steve blushed harder, then and opened his mouth to protest. Loki had anticipated this and quickly cut the Captain off using the famous silver tongue. You knew what that voice did to you, Steve was fucked, maybe literally.

“Come on Captain. This is the 21st century right? I know you have had other sexual experiences before. This is but another step into relinquishing control to pleasure. Don’t you deserve some pleasure Captain?”

Steve looked torn between righteousness and lust. You finally found your voice as neediness rushed into you. You turned to Steve and put your hands on his chest caressing his pecs. You let out an involuntary groan of appreciation. You looked up at him through your lashes again, “Steve, please, I want you, we want you.” You words seems to break the Captain and he put his hands on your hips and his eyes darkened as the red from his cheeks faded.

Loki chuckled darkly into your ear and pushed you into Steves arms. You looked up and suddenly Steve’s mouth was on your own. Tentatively at first but, a soft moan escaped your throat and Steve’s kiss became fiercer, prying your mouth open with his tongue. You got lost in kissing him. He was demanding and controlling, something you didn’t expect from sweet Steve Rogers.

You felt Loki slide up behind you as you both broke away. “She’s very compliant you know.” You moaned lightly when Steve began kissing down your neck as Loki nipped the other side in tandem. You felt like you were in heaven stuck between two gorgeous and powerful men both leaving their marks.

Eventually Steve and Loki pulled back, you whined at the loss. “Ah ah pet, patience. You know the rules about whining. Now explain to the Captain our special relationship and what you desire” Loki punctuated his words with a sharp thrust of his hard, covered cock into your ass pushing you into Steve who groaned at the contact. Both men were very aroused and you felt yourself nearly soak through your pants.

“Steve…” you squeaked out. Clearing your throat you tried again “Steve, Loki is my Master in the bedroom and I follow his rules. I only call him Master and do as he tells me…” Steve cut you off. “I know what a dominant and submissive relationship is y/n”. He spoke deeply. “Yes you do, don’t you Captain. Precisely why I asked you here. I think together we can bring our little submissive to great heights of pleasure, along with ourselves of course. So what do you say hmm?” Loki spoke hungrily.

You looked at Loki and smiled then turned your head to Steve. He looked conflicted again so you lightly grasped his cock through his pants both of you moaning at the contact. Something in Steve finally said seemed to snap as he roughly grabbed your hand “Princess, you don’t get to touch unless I give you permission” he growled.

Loki laughed quietly and your breathing became harsher. Loki backed away from you as Steve grabbed your ass roughly though your jeans. “Princess, I think your wearing far to many cloths. Take. Them. Off.” Steve demanded and you nearly came on the spot.

Both Loki and Steve were watching you with demanding eyes as you slowly peeled off your layers getting more and more aroused as you watched the two men’s eyes full with lust, their pants straining to contain their arousal.

Once you finished, Loki stripped off his shirt and demanded you help the Captain with his. You peeled off his shirt slowly, admiring the taught flesh beneath. Once over his head you whined, needing your men to pick up the pace. “Please Stev.…” “it’s Captain” he interrupted, harshly. You felt a pulse between your legs and your core clenched hard, causing you to moan.

“Please Captain, can I touch you?” You asked. Steve nodded and you dove in touching and kissing all over his chest. You started at his pecks where you traced them first with your fingers then with your mouth. You moved lower to his abs. You had dreamt about touching those abs for a long time. Feeling bold you decided to nip along his flesh. He groaned loudly and wrapped his hand in your hair. You moved back up to play with his nipples. You sucked on one while pinching and rubbing the other, switching frequently. You gave them both a soft kiss before moving on.

Steve moaned and pulled you back by your hair. He spun you around to face Loki who was watching while rubbing his clothed cock. “Do the same thing to him” Steve whispered in your ear while walking both of you the few steps to Loki. Steve let your head fall to Loki’s chest but grabbed and locked your arms behind your back. You were trapped with nothing to do but what he demanded. You were in bliss. You lowered your head and licked and sucked on Loki’s chest from neck to abs.

Where Steve was all hard muscle Loki was lean. Both you enjoyed immensely especially as Steve was marking up your neck while Loki moaned at your mouth on his nipples.

Suddenly their pants were gone and your arms were released only to braced yourself on Loki as Steve dropped to his knees and quickly pulled your legs apart. The Captain dove in between your thighs, you barley had time to register what was happening before Steve’s tongue was licking a stripe up your most sensitive parts.

You yelped so loudly you worried the whole tower would hear you. Loki began teasing your sensitive breasts when you felt his other fingers playing with your ass, moving closer to your hidden hole.

Suddenly you knew how the night was going to end and that Loki had figured out your most secret desire. As you felt Loki playing with your asshole, you were distracted by Steve’s mouth. He was licking up and down your cunt and every few swipes would roughly suck on your clit making your legs weak. When he suddenly pushed two fingers inside you, you legs gave out and Loki caught you.

“I think we need to move to the bed Captain. I’m afraid her weak mortal legs won’t hold up under the pressure”. Steve nodded and you were tossed on the bed like some cavewoman. You felt your juices leaking down your thighs as Steve and Loki loved on each side of you. You were maneuvered onto your side facing the Captain.

Steve reinserted his fingers quickly adding another. That had you moaning and gasping like a bitch in heat. You felt Loki’s finger inch toward your cunt and joined Steve’s fingers inside you.

All three of you moaned then and you nearly came from the stretch. Loki swirled his fingers, gathering your slick as Steve pumped his slowly in and out, making sure to curve his fingers. Steve’s mouth reclaimed moth and kissed you like a starving man as Loki’s finger retreated to your ass. You felt him swirl his long digit and slowly began to spear you with it. It felt strange at first but as he continued you felt your asshole tingle pleasantly.

Loki began slowly fucking you with his finger, syncing up with Captain. “Uhhh…Captain…please..” you weren’t even sure what you were begging for but you needed more. Steve stuck another finger in you right as Loki did and you came without warning. The mental image of 6 fingers pleasuring you threw you over the edge, screaming.

Loki chuckled while Steve moaned at the tightness on his fingers. “Well well pet. Seems like you are very receptive tonight” Loki chuckled darkly, “Princess, you need to ask permission to come. Next time you do that, we’re gonna punish you.” Steve replied. While that sounded good to you, right now all you wanted was to be filled like never before.

You panted “please, I need…I need you both in me right now”. You felt a brief cold wind as Loki rolled away and grabbed lubrication. You noticed how swollen his cock was and you shivered in anticipation. You moaned again as Steve pulled you up from the bed, you wrapped your legs around his waist.

You noticed Loki from the corner of your eye, stroking his cock lightly. Steve lifted you lightly as he started to stuff you full of his monster cock. You gasped as he began filling and stretching. You were used to Loki, who was by no means small but Steve was thicker than you thought possible. When he bottomed out in you, you noticed mouth was open in a silent moan, breaths coming out in short pants.

Steve held you there allowing you to adjust but once you had he didn’t move. You tired to shift your hips but he held you still. You started to grunt and rock to urge him on when you felt Loki’s cock at your other entrance. You stiffened slightly, excited but nervous. Steve felt you clench and drew your attention away by laving your nipples, sucking them first into his hot mouth then pulling them slightly.

Once Steve felt you relax he nodded to Loki. You felt Loki begin to slide his length into your ass. “Relax” he whispered and you complied, choosing to focus on The Captain for the moment. You were nervous because Loki was also, well endowed, and you weren’t sure if your body could handle it but you were more than happy to find out. Knowing that learning could, and would, be a pleasurable experience.

He slid in slowly and the suddenly the feeling of being totally full overwhelmed you. You were babbling and gasping nonstop as Loki filled you slowly. Once he had also bottomed out, the three of you stood for a minute panting in unison like you had just run a marathon.

Suddenly, Loki grabbed Steve by the back of his head and slammed his mouth on his own. You watched as the men made out violently and your inside clenched. They both pulled away groaning at the feeing. “Seems like our Princess liked that Loki” “I would agree with you Captain, I think she has had enough time don’t you think?”

Steve nodded and with silent agreement taking a second to kiss Loki once more before both men started pulled out slowly. The delicious friction of both cocks inside you was making you see stars. You screamed, like horror-movie porn-star screamed when they both slammed back into you at once. As they continued to fuck you, a pattered emerged.

Steve would thrust into you as Loki pulled out and visa versa. You were being constantly bounced back and forth on two huge, throbbing cocks. The volume in the room increased as both men sped up.

You were the loudest, yelling their names “CAPTAIN! Ugh MASTER!”. The sounds of flesh slapping and voiced pleasure continued steadily until you felt the tightening in your navel ready to explode. “Master…Cap…I’m gonna cum” you remember right before you feel off the edge.

You suddenly screamed out your orgasm as Steve flicked you clit and Loki pinched your nipples hard. Both men groaned loudly as you clenched tightly, like a hot, velvety vice on their cocks. You felt something warm gushing inside both your holes as the men fucking you filled you with their seed. You felt yourself scream again but no sound came as had screamed yourself hoarse.

For a moment, time seemed to stop as the three of you worked through your orgasms. Eventually, you felt a shift as the men got you and themselves down on the bed both cocks still nestled deeply inside you laying you gently on your side. Loki knew you like to keep his cock inside you after orgasm as he rarely deflated after cuming. You were surprised Steve didn’t pull out as well but less surprised that he also didn’t deflate.

As you three lay panting and your aftershocks continued to pulse through you you felt Steve move you head to his as he kissed you sweetly. Loki was kissing your neck and shoulders lovingly. As everyones breathing returned to normal you grinned widely. “I can see that my pet is pleased, are you glad I can see into your desires?” You nodded emphatically and Steve chuckled lowly. “I guess I can say the same then” Steve replied.

“Well I am very observant” Loki smiled. Suddenly you felt him shift “Now my pet, you must show the Captain your other rules as I believe this may become a regular thing.” You clenched hard at the thought of having both Loki, the God of Mischief and Steve, Captain America, pleasuring you regularly. You knew the night was far from over.

[noticiasarquelogicasjaponesas]

Sean bienvenidos japonistasarqueológicos a una nueva entrega en esta ocasión os hablaré sobre Cryptomeria japonica (スギ), más popularmente conocido como el cedro japonés, una vez dicho esto pónganse cómodos que empezamos. - Se localizan al sur de Hokkaido (ほっかいどう) el cedro es el árbol más alto de Japón, y los árboles más altos superan los 50 m. Además son los árboles más longevos de Japón,hay árboles que tienen entre 2000 y 3000 años en todo Japón. - Espero que os guste ¿lo conocían? os deseo una feliz semana y nos vemos en próximas publicaciones del país del sol naciente. - 今回は、杉の木（Cryptomeria japonica, スギ）についてのお話です。 - 北海道の南に位置するスギは、日本で最も高い木で、高い木は50mを超えます。また、日本で最も長寿の木でもあり、日本各地に樹齢2000年から3000年の木があるそうです。 - それでは、今週も一週間、どうぞよろしくお願いいたします。 - Welcome japonistasarqueológicos to a new installment in this occasion I will talk about Cryptomeria japonica (スギ), more popularly known as the Japanese cedar, having said that, make yourselves comfortable and let's get started. - Located south of Hokkaido (ほっかいどう) the cedar is the tallest tree in Japan, with the tallest trees exceeding 50m. They are also the longest-lived trees in Japan,there are trees that are between 2000 and 3000 years old all over Japan. - I hope you like it, did you know it? I wish you a happy week and see you in future publications from the land of the rising sun.

[mousetoe-wc]

I Got bored one time awhile ago and made a list of every prefix plus some into organised sections so I thought I might as well share.

All the ones that aren’t cannon to warriors, yet at lest are bold

Describing names

Colours: red, russet, copper, golden, amber, yellow, green, blue, violet, pink, white, gray, black, ebony, dark, pale, silver, brown, tawny, fallow

Pattern, Texture + Size: spot/ted, dapple, speckle, freckle, brindle, patch, mottle, ragged, tangle, kink, bristle, fuzzy, curl/y, wooly, soft, sleek, little, tiny, small, slight, short, tall, long, big, heavy, crooked, broken, half, stumpy, shred, torn, jagged

Actions + Character: flip, pounce, bounce, jump, hop, crouch, down, low, drift, flail, strike, running, fidget, mumble, whistle, snap, sneeze, shiver/ing, shining, flutter, fallen, lost, rush, fleet, quick, shy, sweet, brave, loud, quiet, wild, hope, wish,

Other: claw, whisker, dead, odd, one, spike, fringe, echo, song, hallow, haven

Elements

Time + Weather: day, night, dusk, dawn, morning, sky, sun/ny, moon, storm, lightning, thunder, cloud/y, mist/y, fog, snow, blizzard, ice, frost, dew, drizzle, rain, clear, wind, breeze, gale, shadow, shade, bright, light,

Earth/Water/Fire names: stone, rock, boulder, slate, flint, pebble, gravel, sand/y, dust, mud/dy, meadow, hill, rubble, river, ripple, whorl, float, rapid, shimmer, lake, swamp, marsh, wave, wet, bubbling, splash, puddle, pool, creek, fire, flame, flicker, flash, blaze, scorch, ember, spark, ash, soot, cinder, smoke

Plants

Trees: alder, aspen, birch, beech, cedar, cypress, pine, elm, willow, oak, larch, maple, bay, rowan, timber, bark, log, wood, twig, acorn, cone, seed, spire

Berry/Nut/Fruit/Herb: juniper, elder, sloe, holly, yew, mistle, bramble, hickory, hazel, chestnut, nut, apple, cherry, cranberry, olive, pear, plum, peach, chive, mint, fennel, sage, basil, mallow, parsley

Flowers: aster, poppy, primrose, rose, bluebell, marigold, tansy, pansy, briar, cherry, daisy, dandelion, daffodil, tulip, violet, lily, myrtle, thrift, yarrow, heather, lavender, blossom, bloom, flower, petal

Other: leaf, frond, fern, bracken, sorrel, hay, rye, oat, wheat, cotton, reed, pod, cinnamon, milkweed, grass, clover, weed, stem, sedge, gorse, furze, flax, nettle, thistle, ivy, moss, lichen, bush, vine, root, thorn, prickle, nectar

Animals

Mammals: mouse, rat, mole, vole, shrew, squirrel, hedgehog, bat, rabbit, hare, ferret, weasel, stoat, mink, marten, otter, hog, wolf, hound, fox, vixen, badger, deer, doe, stag, fawn, sheep, cow, pig, lion, tiger, leopard, lynx, milk

Birds: robin, jay, cardinal, thrush, sparrow, swallow, shrike, starling, rook, swift, dove, pigeon, crow, raven, duck, goose, heron, wren, finch, swan, stork, quail, gull, lark, owl, eagle, hawk, kestrel, buzzard, kite, hoot, feather, bird, egg, talon

Fish, Reptiles + Amphibians: pike, perch, pollack, trout, tench, cod, carp, bass, bream, eel, minnow, fin, snake, adder, lizard, turtle, frog, toad, newt

Bug type Names: bug, lady or ladybug, moth, spider, ant, snail, slug, beetle, bee, wasp, dragon or dragonfly, bumble, worm, maggot, cricket, fly, midge, web, honey

Skyclan + Warriorclan: Bella, Billy, Big, Harry, Harvey, Snook, Ebony, Monkey

[apollos-olives]

as I am sad and sick I would like to hear some nice things. Is there any Palestinian flora/fauna you wish everyone could see?

(Personally I'm a biiiiiig fan of the cedars as a tree lover, but I've never been fortunate enough to see one in person 😭 cedrus libani... I will visit you one day...)

i hope you feel better soon!!

i don't know much about flowers in general but palestinians are very big on fruits. most palestinians grow a few fruit trees around their houses, and if they own some acres then they often have stuff like olive trees or palm trees. whenever you go to a downtown of a city, you can usually find stands upon stands of fresh fruits and flowers and whatnot. we're really also into nuts, and we spice and season nuts as a snack as well.

my grandpa has a small house in jericho, and he grows many trees of fruits around his home. he mostly grows figs, which are usually ripe when we come over so we can pick them right off the tree and eat it there. he also grows tiny oranges (?), about the size of a curled up pinky i think. you can usually pick them off the tree or bush and pop the whole thing in your mouth, even with the peel. it's kinda tart and i didn't like it very much, with it's textures and whatnot. i don't actually know if it's an orange, but it's definitely some sort of citrus. my dad said it might be called "kumquats" in english, but i just now got off the phone with my family in nablus and they said they called it "chinese oranges" in arabic lol. no one really knows what they're called but that's something that is easily grown around.

we have a LOT of palm trees, and usually if you're driving around the area you can come across many fields of palm trees and find dates. you can eat them before they're "ripe", when they're more round and yellow, and they're very sweet and delicious. in jericho, up on the mountain of the temple, you can look down on the city and see very long fields of dates being harvested. usually their harvesting season is around august/september (which means jesus would've been born in the summer since mary ate ripe dates when she birthed jesus lol), so if you go during the summer (by the way. jericho is BOILING during the summer. lowest place on earth, boiling hot. our car engine fucking MELTED WHILE WE WERE DRIVING) then you can find some really good fresh dates being served.

we just really love our fruits

[extraordinarilyextreme]

Xue-gongzi: Don’t cry anymore. Remember to lay me to rest someplace closer to you, and don’t erect a headstone either; it will look a bit too desolate and lonely. Plant a cedar tree instead, alright? It can stay green for all four seasons, yet will appear a head of white hair when covered with snow. The snow of the back hills will never melt. Bury me beneath the tree. In this way, I will always be able to accompany and brew tea with you in the snow. Xue-tongzi: There won’t be a next year. Have you forgotten? The Burial Snow Heart Sutra that I cultivate with, it will reverse my aging and restore my youthful vigor once every four years. The spring of next year will be the time that I break through the last level. If I break through it, my body and memories will be restored anew. I will forget you; I will forget you entirely. Xue-gongzi: If you forget me, that’s good too. I can’t bear for you to always hold a grudge against me. Xue-tongzi: How could I hold a grudge against you? Xue-gongzi: You will. You will resent me for abandoning you, and for making you live all by yourself in loneliness. Xue-tongzi: You bastard good-for-nothing! Then you can’t die! Xue-gongzi: Didn't we always say that the weather outside is sunny and cloudless for ten thousand li on end?

Xue-gongzi: Is the outside really as good as he claimed? If there is a chance, I would really like to go out to take a look. Xue-tongzi (Adult): Is it that you feel this place is no longer fun, so you wish to leave? Xue-gongzi: This place really is boring, indeed. It’s a world of ice and snow, every day of the year exactly the same. But rest assured. As long as you don’t leave, I won’t leave either. I will always accompany you, so we can be bored together. Xue-tongzi (Adult): That’s more like it.

Xue-gongzi: Such a vast and dazzling place, I seem to see it now. It really is as I dreamed. I’m going to go first and take a look for you.

Xue-tongzi (Adult): Long time no see. Are you well?

[buckets-and-trees]

I’m so happy to see you back on my feed 😍 An ask for your sleepover! Do Cedar Trees!Steve and his Queen have any ::ahem:: spring rituals*? 👀

*Make it dirty lollll.

Title: Love That's Laid Beside Me

Collection: CEDAR TREES Characters/Pairings: King!Steve Rogers x Queen!Reader Word Count: 5k

Summary: With the first spring equinox, Steve shares a tradition from his past before he was royal. You broach something that's been on your mind for your future.

Content & Warnings: royal au, discussion of children, explicit smut - NATURE/OUTDOOR SEX (bahaha YAY), nipple play, cock stroking, brief cock warming, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal intercourse, slight dirty talk (it's still royal Steve, so...), breeding kink, potential pregnancy

Logistical Notes: I knew the second you dropped this in my askbox that I wanted outdoor sex for the spring equinox, and when I started it, it was timely, but I have worked on this installment of their story now for six or seven weeks. I've rewritten it a couple of times, wrestled with parts of the emotional journey. Steve surprised me in the middle portion by opening up with a lot more nostalgia than I knew was going to insert itself into the story. And then with the rest of their conversation for the final third of the story, I went back to the drawing board a few times. Thank you @biteofcherry and @stargazingfangirl18 for being instrumental in talking through what I was working on with Steve and his queen at vital points when I needed it!

Narrative Notes: Steve and his queen were married in June, and this takes place during their first spring together. To read previous pieces chronologically, refer to the masterlist of this collection's pieces.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You look up sharply at the sound of your name. “Mmm?”

“You seem distracted, my love,” Steve says, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head slightly. “I am sorry, it was perhaps a longer day than I anticipated it would be.”

“We can dispense with the dessert course if you are too weary,” Steve suggests.

You scoff. “Dare not speak of such a thing!”

He chuckles, and you smile broadly at him. “I withdraw the proposition,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mirth for a moment.

But as you both savor the exquisite chocolate mousse presented a few minutes later, you notice his frequent gaze on you is more scrutinizing. You do your best to engage again in the conversation.

Truthfully, you have been distracted, but you did not wish to draw his concern. In part it is because you do not want him to worry about you, but more so you yourself do not want to dwell on the issue that has begun to encroach on the edges your thoughts these past weeks. But the exquisite taste of chocolate and his striking blue eyes do serve to draw you back into the moment.

You do your best to gracefully scrape every last bit of mousse from the small crystal goblet, and once the service is cleared away, Steve stands and extends his hand toward you. You stand and go to him. This is familiar now.

He draws your hand to his lips, presses a kiss to the backs of your fingers, then tucks your hand in the crook of his arm. “May I escort you to your chambers to retire for the evening?”

“Yes, of course, my king,” you respond warmly and fall into step with him, leaving the dining room behind.

You have fallen into certain routines after dinner, and while the two of you do not do the very same thing each night, you do spend nearly all your evenings together, the only exception if he must be away on royal business. This evening you read while he sketches before darkness seeps through the windows and you two begin to get ready for bed.

Once you’re both fully freed from the entrapments of your elaborate day wardrobes, you catch Steve studying you again through the reflection of the mirror as you stand in front of your vanity.

“What is that look?” you ask, frowning at him.

“You are very quiet tonight.”

“Again, I am sorry, I must be tired.”

You can see in his eyes that part of him wants to press you further, but he chooses not to. At least not about that.

“Too tired for a little adventure?” he asks.

You turn and fix him with a playfully scrutinizing look. “Pray tell what adventure a king thinks he can get up to in the twilight hour when he’s in his bedclothes?”

“Come with me and find out.”

His eyes are full of mischief, and there is no way you could resist him with that look on his face.

He picks up your velvet cloak and hands it to you before donning his own.

You reach for some boots.

“No,” he stops you, “no shoes.”

“Barefoot?”

“Slippers should do.”

He grins and reaches for your hand. The two of you go hand in hand as you sneak out of your chambers. Steve gives the men standing guard a look that says they are not to appear to know the two of you have left or which way you have gone unless the situation is dire. As king and queen, you can only be so discreet on this adventure as you pass enough guards and servants that your movements cannot in any way be a secret. But it is still a bit of a thrill to skirt through the castle swiftly in the dark, fingers twined together, escaping out onto the grounds. You wind through the gardens as dusk turns starts to turn to darkness, beyond the stables and more gardens, past the royal orchard, and across even more ground until you ultimately reach a thicket of trees. This, you know, is the south side of the royal grounds, and if not for an eventual stone wall to secure the castle, it could have been any common forest you were ambling into.

The moonlight is just beginning to cast its silvery glow across the night, and it only adds another layer to the novelty of the moment. The two of you follow an almost-path into the trees, and it continues further than you expect it to go. It is clear Steve is familiar with this path, his steps through the trees and the brush steady and sure.

As you move along, your steps hadn’t been rushed once you’d escaped the castle proper, but Steve starts to slow significantly, and you step closer to him with the relaxed pace, able to walk with him rather than follow through this part of the landscape that is new to you. Steve brings your hand up to press a kiss to the back of it and smiles down at you.

“When I was young, my ma used to try and find ways to lift our spirits. We were so poor, but she never wanted us to want for reasons to be happy. She thought it important to make any occasions special as they came our way with our own rituals and traditions.”

Married less than a year, you are still learning much about each other in this relationship – there were so many things in the present, you had spoken of some hopes for the future, and much of the vast troves of the past lay behind you to explore. You knew his father had been killed as a soldier in a war between kingdoms when he was still a toddling child, and his mother had been lost to a plague just before he’d come of age. The few times he’d spoken of his mother, it had always been with such warmth that it made your heart swell and grew your affection for him even more.

“I don’t remember how old I was when she started this tradition, but one night instead of having me get ready for bed, she bundled me up enough to keep me from catching cold in the March evening air, put on her own cloak, and we ventured out into the night, just outside of the village, and into the forest. It was the spring equinox, and she said if we walked into the clearing, left an offering, and made a wish, then the magic that came with the awakening of spring would make that wish come true.”

He'd stopped at some point during those words, and as you look around, you see you are in a very small break in the trees – not quite big enough to be called a clearing.

There weren’t big festivities and royal duties around the equinoxes in the kingdom as there were for the solstices, but there were still rituals and traditions in the days leading up to and following, so you knew the significance of this day, and tonight was the last night where darkness held equal balance with the day, and then daylight would take the reigns for its share of the year.

“I love that you’ve kept that tradition in her remembrance,” you say, running your other hand up and down his forearm. “What sort of offerings did you leave?”

“It would depend on the year,” he responds, plaintive in thought, “sometimes whatever small token we could scrounge, others perhaps a specially baked good or honey if we could spare it. When I began to draw in earnest, sometimes I would leave a sketch for those forest sprites, or fairies, or deities, whatever you would believe ruled the trees.”

“And your wishes came true?”

His gaze lifts to the starry sky for a moment, then he looks down into your face. “Perhaps one or two, but some of the wishes were too foolish and did not need to be granted.” He laughs softly, and you grin and press closer to him. He then turns fully toward you to envelop you in his arms. “I think her wishes probably came true – she always wanted more for me, happiness, a good life. I have so much of that now.”

You reach up and gently cup his face in your hands. “I never planned on an unhappy life, but I think fortune granted us more happiness than either of us anticipated.”

“Indeed,” he says resolutely, bowing his head to capture your lips with his.

You kiss him back fervently. One of his hands moves down your spine, coming to stop at the small of your back, pressing you into him. You hum into the kiss, relishing the closeness and connection between the two of you.

Steve draws his lips away just before you’re at the point of breathlessness, but he presses his forehead to yours, and you continue to breathe each other in.

“I think I have something that would work for an offering,” you pipe up after a few moments of the tranquility in his embrace.

He doesn’t say anything but loosens his hold as you shift your arms back down and tug at the silk ribbon at the cuff of one of your sleeves, drawing it out of its casing.

“A fine token from my beautiful bride,” he remarks.

“And what are you giving up to the wood?”

“A piece of my heart,” he says with a grin.

You tsk at him and roll your eyes, but you do feel a small rush of heat in your cheeks and the butterflies stir in your belly because even though his tone was playful, there’s an undeniable intention in his eyes.

“No, what did you really bring, husband? I know you well enough to know you came prepared.”

He draws a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket, holding it up before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Come,” he inclines his head over his left shoulder, turning and stepping toward one of the nearby cedar trees. One of the branches hangs near shoulder height to you. Steve places the folded drawing onto the branch, holding it in place, and you step up to tie it to the branch without him needing to explain.

“I don’t get to see what you drew?” you ask as you arrange the loops for a bow and work the silk with your nimble fingers.

“If you tell a wish – or show it in this case, then it might not come true.”

You know he is not one to believe in silly superstitions, but you have your own wish you hope this ritual might help along, so you just smile and nod. “Fair enough.”

The two of you step back, and you admire the simple beauty of the ribbon and think you could very well tie many more ribbons to this tree in the coming years together. You hope that is the case.

Steve takes another few steps back into the open space between the trees, draws his robe off his shoulders, and spreads it out over the ground. You pull off your own robe and join him as he lays back and holds his arm open for you. He assists as you drape your robe over your lower halves. The air is crisp but not cold, but the warmth of his body against yours is wonderful, and you nestle into him.

The stars dotting the heavens are bright skirting around a full moon, and as the two of you gaze up at the night sky, you twine your fingers with Steve’s at your shoulder. You have maintained who you are, who you were raised to be, strong and steady, noble, regal, with your own sense of purpose and fulfillment, but the wholeness you feel when you are with Steve enriches your soul. You are not empty without him, but more full with him. Laying with him right now is a balm you did not know you desperately needed tonight.

Steve begins to speak again. “After she passed, I kept the yearly tradition for the equinox, but especially after I inherited this kingdom.”

His voice was another comfort. You loved hearing more of what made up this man who held your heart.

“I never sought the crown,” he continues, “but after I suddenly found myself king, I held onto anything that kept me grounded. Bucky has been a constant, but I spent much time in these woods to clear my head, work out answers I needed to sort through on my own, or simply sit with feelings or difficulties I could not suffer in the palace in front of anyone else.”

Given that admission, the semblance of a path and his familiarity navigating to this glen in the trees made perfect sense.

This man was strong and stoic, and your husband had the heart of a lion, but you could only imagine what it must have been like to inherit a kingdom and all the royal duties of being its king overnight. You had grown up as the second-born in a royal family, able to learn and prepare, with parents, governesses, advisors, tutors, and your royal siblings being brought up alongside you to prepare for a life of duty and the unique difficulties it would present for the entirety of your life. Steve had been plucked out of obscurity by fate with no training, orphaned, only a soul who had always worked hard and possessed a deep-rooted a sense of duty and desire to serve those around him in any way he could.

He speaks again, an abundant warmth in his tone. “In you I have found yet another boon and have had fewer occasions where I needed to seek out the solace of this place.”

You shift to your side to lean up and look into his face. This was not a surprise revelation. His words and actions have demonstrated consistently how much he values you since that night you had pledged your true love and affection to each other so many months ago, but him vocalizing this sentiment still means so much and makes your heart soar because your relationship is still so new.

You move down to kiss him, and he lifts his head to meet you halfway. He holds your face in his hands, and his thumbs brush gently over your cheeks.

He pulls back, presses another brief kiss to your mouth, then traces a finger over your parted lips. His blue eyes connect again to yours.

“I don’t know if you are holding back the thoughts that trouble you because I’m king and you think I have royal matters to occupy my thoughts, but something is on your mind,” he says quietly.

Your heart stings a little at his accusation – but he is not wholly wrong.

“Please,” he presses, “we said we would be husband and wife to each other, we vowed a true and unfettered love. As your husband I can see it, I know it, and it’s eating at me that I can’t share whatever is burdening you. Do not hold matters so important and worrisome back from me.”

Your throat feels thick and though you are still unsure of the words and the feelings yourself, you cannot deny Steve’s fervent plea to open up to him, and you trust that the foundation you’ve been building together will guide the two of you through however this conversation will go.  

Carefully, you settle back down against him, wanting to feel his closeness. You press the side of your face to his chest, over his heart, and drape your left arm over his torso. His hand trails up and down your arm tenderly, while his other arm holds you, patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath and then let your thoughts flow into words. “Are you at all worried that we have been married three-quarters of a year,” you begin, “time enough for me to be with child, and yet we have no heir on the way?”

He hums in thought, not immediately answering.

You know the silence is short, but it feels long because you anxiously await his thoughts.

“No,” he finally answers.

He does not elaborate, and though when Steve chooses to speak and when he chooses to keep his thoughts to himself is something you have noted and admired in his character as a king, on this matter you crave every word of his thoughts.

“No?”

He sits up and pulls you into his lap, arms encircling you entirely.

“I am realizing we have never spoken about this with each other,” he says.

“And?”

“And I imagine we have spoken about it or been spoken to about it with others before our union.”

You nod.

He furrows his brow slightly, studying your face.

“Steve,” it’s you ushering the conversation now.

“Is anyone pressing you on the matter?” he asks, tone serious.

“No,” you reply.

He raises an eyebrow.

“Truthfully,” you reassure him.

“Then truthfully, you asked if I am worried – but I had not realized so much time had already passed. The longer we are married, the more it feels as if I’ve known you for ages, but it also feels as if it has been no time at all.”

You nod. “I think that is one of the reasons I have been hesitant to broach the subject now since it has been many months and we had never once spoken on the matter. It had never crossed my mind, and I didn’t know if it had yours.”

You had wondered why. You wondered if it was a mark of selfishness, or merely a mark on how devoted the two of you had been in building your bonds as husband and wife in your time as newlyweds – newlyweds in a cordially arranged marriage that turned out to be a true love match.

He remains quiet for another moment, and you place your hand on his cheek, relishing the feel of his beard against your palm.

His tone is soft when he finally continues. “I want children, not heirs.”

Your melt into his embrace, heart skipping a beat. Why had you let yourself worry at all?

“But what do you want, my love?”

“I-“

His question gives you pause. You know the most vital duty of a queen is to produce an heir, but the way Steve looks at you in this moment, so intently, you want to give him the true answer, not merely the answer you were raised to give.

And it’s in those fervent blue eyes of his that you also seem to find the truth of it.

“I want to have children with you.”

He does not ask for you to clarify or repeat the sentiment because he knows you do not speak to placate him in any way, the same way you know he does not try to placate you now.

“You know that I was not raised to be a king or with all the expectations that come along with it. Since the time the crown was bestowed upon me, I did learn the import of all the duties that were suddenly expected. Bring peace and stability to the kingdom, serve the people, and much of that was tied to expectations that I take a wife to give the kingdom a queen, and ultimately produce an heir to secure the line of succession, so I can only imagine what the duties and obligations felt like if one had been shouldered with them from birth.”

You sigh. “I suppose it is a different kind of weight as it’s all I’ve ever known, and it wasn’t thrust upon me as it was you.”

“But that does not minimize its weight, nor am I saying it was an unbearable burden for either of us. But I did feel the weight of it for all the years I ruled alone before you, and yet I stood firmly against any pressure to rush me into matrimony. Call it patience or obstinance, but I was rewarded for my waiting beyond anything I hoped for in that wife being you, and I know I was not your first proposed marriage contract either.”

“You were not, but you were the first I felt confident in, even when it was an arrangement that was amicable, not one with romantic notions or intent.”

“With that,” Steve continues, “I can do nothing but trust that there is no need to rush fulfilment of any of our duties. If and when children come into our life, it will be precisely when providence deems they should.”

“How is it you always say such wonderful things?”

He tilts his head, and the look on his face turns so soft it makes your heart ache. “Your heart inspires my heart.”

You close the small gap between you and kiss him fiercely. This man continue to show he is more than you could ever have dreamed, worthy of anchoring your soul. Your tongue teases the seam of his lips, and he opens his mouth to you immediately.

His hands are a little cold, but you do not mind the chill of his fingers as one of his hands moves under the hem of your nightdress, lands on your knee, and begins to move purposely up your thigh.

“Now, we ought to give providence every opportunity to send a child our way, should we not?” he teases.

You laugh and tug at his shirt. “We should, my king.” He lifts his arms to allow you to pull off his garment. “My love,” you add more tenderly before kissing him again.

He eases back to the ground, pulling you with him, lips locked together. The sentiments shared between you, the always enticing closeness, the novelty of having Steve outdoors, the magic of the spring equinox, all of it comes together to drive the two of you quickly into a frenzy of immediate need and want. You shift to straddle Steve and reach down to tear at the front laces of his breeches. The places where your naked thighs tuck in on each side of his bare torso relish the warmth and the beauty of the skin-to-skin contact. He hitches up your nightdress and his hands caress up and down your thighs as you reach for his cock. Steve hisses at your cold fingers wrapping around his hard length but bucks up into your hand as you stroke him.

“Inside you,” he insists. “Need to be inside you, filling you, planting my seed inside the cunt of my queen.”

You gasp at his desperate words as he moves your hands away and lines up his cock with your entrance, slamming your hips down to take him in the space of one heartbeat. You were not as wet or prepared as he usually took care to take you, but both of you groan as he slots in to the hilt, and you throw your head back, a broken groan escaping your throat. The pain is surged with pleasure, and you rock eagerly against his pelvis. The friction sends a shiver down your spine, and you close your eyes.

Steve’s hands move from your thighs to gripping your hips. You lean back just enough to plant your hands on his sturdy thighs, as he drives your hips back and forth with more vigor. The grind as his cock shifts it angle inside your pussy has you panting quickly. He squeezes your hips. “Just like that, my love, take your pleasure, let me give you what you need.”

Your movement grows more frenzied, and you whimper, not quite able to achieve the release you crave. But he knows this, has made a study of your body since your wedding night, and he knows you need more. One of his hands moves up to palm your breast, while his other hand moves to your core, and his thumb quests for your clit, applying tight, insistent circles to the pulsing nub. The waves of pleasure build even more quickly now, and when your fingers curl against his thighs, he tweaks your nipple, pinching, and it pushes you over the edge. You cry out, and every muscle in your body seizes to absorb the ecstasy of your orgasm.

Steve smooths his hands up and down your sides, then moves them around to the small of your back and coaxes your body back down to his chest, his cock still inside of you. He presses kisses along your collar bone, up the column of your neck, and along your jaw, letting you catch your breath. His hands continue their sensual and soothing movements over the expanse of your back, and he cradles your shoulders in his hands when you finally adjust your head to meet his lips once more with your own.

When you suck on his bottom lip, his cock twitches inside of you, and you let out a shaky breath.

“Can I have more?” he murmurs against your lips.

You manage to nod and mewl in assent, rocking where you’re still joined together.

Using his gentle strength, Steve rolls you beneath him, keeping you on the plush velvet of his cloak, settling in the home he loves between your thighs. He cups the side of your face in his hands, and his kiss now demands, belying his eagerness. Though his lips move against yours, tongue licking into your mouth, entangling with yours, kissing, kissing, kissing until neither of you can breathe anymore, when he draws away, your mouth chases his. He grins, and his eyes dance with satisfaction as he presses his forehead to yours.

You’re his, you have been his, but the way he reverently gazes at you as he trails his hand down your neck, over your chest, cresting over your breast, down your ribcage, circling over your hip, and then coming to rest over your stomach, it’s filled with a fervent fire. His hand splays out fully over your womb, and he slowly draws his cock out halfway before giving an even slower thrust back in, clearly wanting you to feel every inch of his thick member and the action has him groaning and you keening beneath him.

“I’m going to fill this womb with my seed,” he vows with another thrust. “Going to keep you full as often as I can.”

“Please,” you beg.

He has never been shy with you, but neither spoken so directly of the physical or biological in your intimate moments as he has tonight, and it adds a new level of pleasure to the experience that fuels a primal part in your core. You thread your fingers in his hair and tug urgently as his thrusts begin to pick up speed. His kisses turn fierce bruising, and you welcome it. But when he can’t seem to keep kissing and breathing and thrusting inside you, he abandons your lips and buries his face in your neck, grunting as he presses on and on. The angle of his pelvis drags just perfectly across your clit as he adjusts and speeds up. Your walls flutter around him, and he rasps, “Go on, give me one more before I fill you up, my love.”

And his rough thrusts laced with his tender words, the way he grasps at your hip, his belabored breathing at your neck, it all overwhelms, and you release a debauched, shuddering moan when your second orgasm washes over you. Steve does not relent, and follows you over the edge with only a few more thrusts, the way your channel squeezes his cock giving him the final push, and he groans, satisfied, as he empties his hot spend inside of you. You don’t scratch, but you draw your fingers forcefully down his back, wanting to feel the tautness of his muscles. You knead his ass, holding him joined into you as he ruts slowly against you, wanting to deposit every last drop your insides milk from him in the aftershocks.

You feel deliciously spent and welcome his weight as he relaxes his body on top of you. He lays his head on your chest, and you hum and press a kiss to the top of his head, drawing your fingers back up to lightly stroke his hair, his shoulders. He caresses your sides, your legs where they are still wrapped around him, anywhere his fingers can reach, but now it’s all languid and soothing touches between you. The weight of him is so grounding in the afterglow, and it begins to lull you to sleep.

You are vaguely aware as somewhat later Steve lifts you up from the ground to carry you in his arms back to the castle. Your body was sated, and your mind as well. You have more to share with Steve soon. You should have had your monthly bleeding last week, and so the possibility that you were already with child before tonight was a very real prospect. Tonight served to quell any doubts you may have had about the prospect of you two becoming parents – that he wanted it, and so did you, and that you were both ready to pursue that journey – but you would wait a few more weeks to ensure it wasn’t a fluke before you told Steve.

And in the meantime, you knew there would continue to be more pleasurable opportunities to put a babe inside you if there wasn’t one already.

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS NEW PIECE OF THEIR STORY!

As ever, I'm always eager for any morsel of your thoughts as to what you thought and questions about where they may go next...

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

[wordsinhaled]

the opposite of blindness

“A man moves through time. It means nothing except that, like a harpoon, once thrown he will arrive.” 

— Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red 

i. peirázō (to test, tempt)

hob gadling dreams of a leaden sky, and the dark-watered sea stretched out under it, and in the sea a siren.

the siren-figure floats on his back, wraithlike, just beneath the surface. hob can barely make him out and yet he is all hob can see: eyes deep and black as the cosmos dotted with stars, wild hair drifting in the current like so many tendrils of seaweed, a phosphorescent constellation spreading between his palms. 

desire is sudden in hob, and visceral. oh, to pick his way down the cliffside and give himself over to the waves. oh, to know the strength of those pale arms, the suffocating kiss from that sardonic mouth. to drown and drown, as he surely would. 

“who are you?” hob shouts into the moonless night.

he hears “you know who i am” carried to him on the crash of the surf against the promontory, whispered to him in gull-shrieks and in the gusting gale. 

hob does not think he knows.  

he wakes with brackish tears drying on his cheeks, and at the edges of his consciousness he feels a revelation, but it slips away before he can grasp it.

ii. pothéō (to long, yearn)

hob is lost in a twilit dream-forest. 

the dense, moldering leaf litter muffles his footfalls and obscures the paths he has already walked. how long has he wandered here, buffeted by an ill wind, imagining malevolent faces in the shadows of the trees? 

in the next moment, hob stumbles upon a clearing, sun-drenched and warm, and in the clearing is a hut. hob peers at the smoke that curls lazily up from the chimney; at the black-cloaked man who sits on the stoop, whittling a raven from a small block of cedar. 

he seems to absorb some of the sunlight into himself, as though clothed in an absence of reality, and refracts the rest into tiny rainbows that dance about his person like day-lit fireflies. when he puts down his craft to push back the hood of his cloak, hob is surprised to see the man is younger than he appeared, and pallid as marble, and there are twin points of starlight glimmering in his eyes. 

“i’ve seen you before,” hob says to him, on the verge of realization. “where have i seen you?” but the man dignifies hob’s question only by rising on soundless bare feet to disappear inside the hut, leaving the door slightly ajar.

“join me if you wish,” he calls, and hob feels overfull with longing. 

with the feeling comes an odd presentiment: hob sees, abruptly, how days will pass as seconds within the hut. how he will have his fill of wine and sweetmeats and blessed cool water. how this radiant stranger will draw him down to lie tangled together on the rush mats spread before the hearth. how hob might never leave, even as the nights grow long, even as wind and rain and time ravage the world beyond this place. he sees, and knows he could spend many lifetimes here, happily.

hob turns and goes the way he arrived, nostrils full of the scent of wildflowers and woodsmoke.

when he wakes, a carving of a raven rests on the pillow next to his head. hob cannot remember what he learned in his dream, but his heart aches for a fortnight nonetheless.

iii. titrṓskō (to wound)

this night, hob dreams of a war, great and terrible. 

it is an amalgam of all the battles he has ever fought, some that came before his time, and more yet to be fought in unwritten futures. people from all the eras of the world kill and die and mourn their dead around him, in a gruesome jumble of chariots and tanks and spears and gunfire and lasers—all the myriad ways humanity has invented to destroy itself. 

hob is bone-tired, blood-drenched. he is carrying a sword. 

he wades through an ocean of the fallen to reach the silhouette that beckons from the crest of the next hill, shrouded in smoke and fire. 

the man wears a hoplite’s armor, his helm’s burnished lustre now dulled with soot and dust. the image of a crow blazoned on his shield seems to shift its wings, almost alive—a trick played by the acrid smog. the pinpricks of light in his eyes gleam white as death-shrouds.

hob lays his xiphos at the man’s feet. watches him pick it up, heft it solemnly in his elegant hands.

“you again,” hob says. “what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“one day, this pain will be useful to you,” says the man, in a voice that quakes the earth.  

then he runs hob through with his own blade. 

iv. elpízō (to hope) 

hob crosses a bustling square on market day. 

he finds the rickety table and two empty chairs languishing outside a defunct tavern. across the weathered boards shuttering one tavern window, someone has etched the reminder of a memory: 

hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales. we two dear men, friends forever, were here. 

hob sits; the chair is comfortable. he waits. in this dream, hob’s soul feels formed in the shape of patience.

bright noon sun bakes the cobblestones and heats the air, turning it thick with the smell of briny olives, ripe fruit, fresh fish. impossible to dwell on death’s coppery tang or grief’s grim weight, here. he knows a kind of immediacy, as he lets the din of the crowd knit him whole. 

a man claims the chair opposite him, noiseless, stately-postured. his robes are black as pitch and hemmed in flame; within his eyes he holds an entire glowing universe. 

“well met, rovertus,” he says, smiling. 

that name—known and unknown, worn and unworn, his and not his—jostles hob, nudges at something long-asleep in his spirit. he sees, suddenly, the long path ahead and behind, all the life-lengths spent and not-spent with this stranger who is no stranger at all. surely they have walked already arm in arm through endless fields of aconites; even now they make love on a wave-scourged beach; and will they not someday rally and perish side by side on a thousand battlefields, only to rise again?

“well met,” hob says, “my love, my life, oneiros.” 

“i bring you the favor of the gods,” oneiros tells him. “they would grant you a gift. a few threads of their raiment, if you will but wear it.” 

it is hob’s turn to smile, wistful. “you always do speak in riddles.” 

“drink with me, should you accept,” says starry-eyed oneiros, soft, “and your dearest wish shall be yours.” two vessels that were not there before rest on the little table between them, brimming with golden mead.

“my only wish is simple,” hob says.

he drinks down to the dregs, and wakes, and lives—the taste of honey ever on his tongue.

———

notes: 

i have STARED AT THIS TOO LONG so i’m calling it finished. i really thought dream and hob deserved to be mythologized a little bit so... mythology-inspired dreamling fic! *yells incoherently* this all started because i was thinking about morpheus in greco-roman mythology, appearing to kings and heroes in dreams... and then... it just got away from me and became a shameless excuse to mash a ton of tropes from myth together at once, to be emotionally compromised by anne carson, and to probably misuse ancient greek a fair bit (i only took one classics course in college which was enough for it to be Formative To My Personality but not helpful in this case for ancient greek or latin lmao, classics side of tumblr please go easy on me)

morpheus’ line in part iii paraphrases “Be patient and tough; someday this pain will be useful to you” from ovid’s metamorphoses 

the graffiti in part iv is part of some graffiti discovered in a thermopolium in pompeii. 

Hic fiumus cari duo nos sine fine sodales nomina si [quaeris Caius et Aulus erant] [CIL 04 8162] (“We two dear men, friends forever, were here. If you want to know our names, they are Gaius and Aulus”)

*title also from Autobiography of Red, talking about the moment of falling in love— “...there it was one of those moments that is the opposite of blindness. The world poured back and forth between their eyes once or twice.”

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Fated Male

Eris x Reader... Young toxic Eris - he meets you in the Autumn forest, your relationship evolves. This was inspired by a request I got - which I started writing and then realized the idea didn’t make sense with the story, so I finished it with a similar theme. Don’t worry - I will still be fulfilling that request soon!

Warnings: Toxic Eris, patriarchy, illusion to smut, angst, adult theme (virginity)

Word Count: 6.2K

The young Vanserra ran through the forest, his short red hair slicked back with sweat, brown coat nearly sliding off his shoulders with how fast he went. Dry mud caked the bottoms of his boots, his thick sweater speckled with the same dark earth. Two of his dogs ran with him - in front of him - almost as though he was chasing them. 

“Those hounds cost more than I could ever hope to make in my lifetime,” your father grumbled, shining a red apple with the end of his wool coat. He eyed the High Lord’s son carefully, noting how he wove through the trees and danced along the end of your property. Your father hadn’t been fond of Beron’s son running around in the forest so close to his orchard, though you’d tried to warn him the young male was no trouble.

You’d had quite a few run-ins with him before, afterall. 

The last one ended up with his tongue dancing with yours and his warm hands roaming the expanse of your body.

The first time you’d met him, you were collecting the ripe apples in your father’s small section of the forest. He’d popped out from behind a tree, effectively scaring the ever loving shit out of you. He didn’t need to introduce himself to you, you’d been well aware of who the High Lord’s son was. “Are you the one who has been stealing my apples?”

He flashed a smile. It was one of those grins that promised woe, though you swore he couldn’t be older than fifty. Eris was trouble, you could tell just by his handsome face, but his reputation already preceded him. His red hair was just long enough to curl at the ends and his russet eyes glint with danger. You noted the fresh cut under his eye, the deep gash gone black with oxidized blood, mere days from healing. His cheek was tinted purple, a bruise, fresher than the slash adorning his high cheekbone. “They’re by no means your apples.”

You took a small step backward as he straightened before you, standing a foot taller than you. You propped the bushel on your hip, offering him an eye roll in response. “My father’s,” you amended, eyeing the male as he reached skyward to pull fruit from the tree. “Though one day these will be my orchards.” 

“My father’s,” he corrected. He took a bite of the fruit, sharp white teeth piercing the hard flesh. The juice dripped down his chin, which he quickly wiped away with the back of his wrist. “So actually, they will belong to me.” 

You huffed a breath, narrowing your eyes at him. He took another step towards you, but you did not back up again. At that, he smirked, noticing how you fought against your own instincts to stand your ground. You held your breath, he saw your chest heave - even under your thick coat. “A future High Lord has no business being in the dirty orchards. Whether they’re his or not.” You bit your lip, almost wishing you hadn’t said anything at all. You knew of your family’s distaste for the High Lord and his kin, the brutal comments your father often made at the dinner table raced through your mind. You held yourself back from calling him names, making comments about his father’s leadership style and his harsh laws. You prayed to the Mother that he would leave - soon - before your father came back. 

He stood just a hair’s breadth away from you, the smell of cedar and fire burning your nose. “Brave way to talk to your future High Lord,” he breathed, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. You held his gaze, fire burning in those bright irises. “Tread carefully, (Y/N).” He teasingly tugged at the end of your braid, but before you could reach up to swat his hand away, he vanished. 

The next time you came across him, he had been sitting atop one of the broad tree branches, far out of sight, concealed by the dense fog that still clouded the forest that early in the morning. You’d only noticed him after he dropped a gold mark into your basket from above, causing you to drop the bushel completely, apples falling and rolling into the slick mud below your feet. You cursed, looking up and squinting, searching for the origin of the shilling. 

You found nothing, but as you turned back to level ground, you gasped, finding the male so close to you, your nose nearly brushed against his deep green coat. You crossed your arms over your chest, resisting the urge to shove him so far away from you that he’d disappear in the fog. “Don’t look so angry, (Y/N),” he started, throwing his hands up - a half-eaten apple in one, feigning innocence. “At least I’m paying you for it this time.”

“I don’t need your money,” you huffed. Lie. “I need you to stop eating the harvest.” You knelt against the cold earth, picking up the fallen fruit and returning them to the basket. Mud coated your fingers, then your coat, as you wiped them against the wool to remove the wet dirt and dead leaves from the once clean, dewy apples. 

“You’ll be fine,” he replied casually, as if money were no object. It wasn’t - not to him. 

You stood before him, still challenging him with your closeness. With a sly smile, you pressed your hand to his chest, dragging it down his torso quickly. His eyes sparkled, the youthful Female before him demanding his full attention. As soon as his sight caught the mud adorning your fingers, though, he cursed. He took a large step backward, muttering incoherently as he glared at the dirt smeared on his coat. “Didn’t I already tell you to watch yourself, young reaper?”

“Didn’t I ask you to stop coming here?” The words felt too harsh on your tongue. Your stomach twisted, hoping you didn’t offend the male so much that you or your family would get in trouble. Selfishly, you hoped you didn’t offend him because you didn’t want him to stop visiting. He was enticing, from his graceful stature to his supremely handsome face - despite how utterly annoying he was. 

“Be leery of what you wish for, (Y/N). I wouldn’t want you to miss me.” You hadn’t heard that Beron’s heir had the daemati gifts, but you swore in that moment that he did.

You mulled over his words. “I could use the entertainment,” you offered, shrugging, cleaning your hand against your already dirty coat. 

At that, he smiled, one that you’d felt was almost genuine. “That I can provide.” As he made that promise, you silently wished that it was not a call for trouble. 

The young Fae returned to the Forest House that evening with his muddied coat and boots, prepared to brace his father’s scolding. He wasn’t meant to be running around in the woods, shouldn’t be dirtying his clothes, running around like a serf. Despite the long berating, Eris enjoyed bothering you. He enjoyed the pink blush that crawled up your cheeks, enjoyed how you scrunched your nose when he irritated you, when you bit your lip each time you held back an insult. 

He enjoyed it almost as much as you enjoyed staring into his red eyes. How much you loved how his hair curled against his pale skin, that nearly healed scar along his cheek. No matter what you did, you couldn’t erase the male’s face from your memory. You couldn’t get rid of the smell of rich wood and burning embers that lingered around him. 

You were both drawn back to each other, Eris couldn’t stay away from the first female to bite at him with playful remarks and chaste comments. You often found him lingering through the forest, walking his dogs or riding his horse, following your scent through the trees. The last time you’d met up, you left him with a line of hickeys down his chest and an aching hard cock. 

He came to settle the score.

Eris swooped you up from the orchard, slinging you across his lap, holding you on his saddle in front of him. You squealed in excitement, having never been on a horse before - let alone one that large. You laughed wildly as he handed you the reigns, bouncing up and down inelegantly, back rubbing against his chest as he held you close to him. He took your hands in his, guiding the horse to a stop as you neared the Summer Court border. There, the winds slowed and the air warmed, the fog dissipated and the mud turned into plush, green grass. 

He dropped to the ground gracefully, boots imprinting on the mossy ground. He held you by the hips, lowering you effortlessly in front of him. You craned your neck upward, noting the smile that laced his lips. You reached up to curl a rogue lock behind his ear, hair just shaggy enough, begging for a cut. He’d been procrastinating it, though, much to his father’s dismay, as he relished how your hands pulled at it while he planted a trail of kisses down your neck, how you twirled a stray strand between your fingers while he laid his head in your lap. 

“That was fun,” you breathed, holding your hand against his chin. He nodded, moving his hands to the collar of your wool coat, shrugging it off your shoulders. You turned on your heel, allowing him to pull the fabric away from you. The sudden humid air made goosebumps crawl up your arms, your body confused at the rush of hot air. 

You ran your hand along the tall horse’s back, the hard muscles rumbling under your touch, still rampant from the hard run through the forest. You fiddled the white mane through your fingers, braiding a small section of her mane. Eris tossed both of your coats over the saddle, huffing an annoyed breath. “I wouldn’t have brought her if I knew you’d pay more attention to her than me,” he grumbled, hands slinging around your waist. 

“Awe,” you crooned, pressing yourself back into him. “Is my fated High Lord feeling left out?” 

He could have swooned. My fated High Lord. He hid his face in the crook of your neck, masking the blush spread across his pale cheeks. Fate was a funny thing. The tickle of his lips against your soft skin sent shivers down your spine; you melted against him. “We have unfinished business,” he murmured, biting into your shoulder, licking across the mark in reprieve. 

“And what would that be?” You replied innocently, fingers tracing over the knuckles in his large hands. 

He hummed, jutting his hips out forward, ensuring you felt the matter at hand. 

You twisted in his arms, slinging your arms around his neck, standing on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. He responded immediately, pulling you against him tighter, broad arms wrapped against your back. Eris’s hand cupped your ass, squeezing tightly as he deepened your kiss, tilting your head and dragging his tongue against your bottom lip. 

You happily obliged, sighing against him as he set forth on exploring your mouth, tongue tracing yours slowly. You fisted at his curls, fingertips dragging against his scalp. With no hesitation, Eris’s fingers pulled at your bodice, quickly working to untie the coarse laces binding you in your dress. You breathed harshly as soon as his fingers met the smooth skin of your back, his touch nearly scorching. 

Making quick work of your alone time in the secluded forest, you pulled at the fabric over his shoulders, the thick knit sweater bunched up in your palms. Eris broke away hastily, slinging it off his back in one swift motion. He tossed it to the ground without care and cupped your face, pulling your lips to his once more. You squirmed in his arms, breathing a sigh of contempt as you ran your hands along his lean torso. Your fingers danced along the few random scars adorning his ribcage. 

His fingers dared to venture underneath your dress, roaming your untouched skin. You jerked your head back, spinning as you pulled away from the hypnotizing kiss. “Let me have my way with you,” he purred. 

You bit your lip, staring into those glossy red eyes. “And what is your way?”

He smiled that damn daring smile. “I’ll show you, (Y/N). Make you feel better than any male ever had.” 

Your heart hummed with anticipation. But your stomach flipped. “What if I told you no male has touched me?” 

You heard the groan build deep in the back of his throat, rumbling through his chest. Eris’s eyes danced with flame, his hands dug deep into your hips. “Then lucky me.” His hand cupped the back of your head, tangling in your loose hair. “I’ll show you how a High Fae fucks.”

You clenched your legs together, an action not unnoticed by the male. “They said the High Lord’s son would use me,” you replied matter-of-factly, less venom to the words than he expected. You fiddled numbly with a lock of red hair, staring up at the male though half-lidded eyes. 

“Then you use me, (Y/N). Use me to feel good.” His hands fell to the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up against him, chest-to-chest, your core pressed against his straining erection. 

To be frank, he didn’t remember his first time. Didn’t remember the female, didn’t remember if she was a virgin, didn’t remember where. 

And he didn’t care.

“Use me. Just let me have you.”

And so you gave yourself to him. 

______________________________________

Eris winnowed you back, unsure of how you’d feel horseback riding back through the cold forests, especially with the mixture of his seed and your blood dripping down your leg. He spent the night with you, in your tiny bedroom, right under your parents’ nose. He worshiped you all night, kissing every inch of your skin and tracing his tongue over every groove of your body. 

He had found you again the next night, stealing you away from the orchard atop his mighty steed, wasting no time in whisking you off to the Summer Border. Your coats made due as blankets on the soft grass, hastily thrown off and tossed to the ground, just enough to shield you from the wet moss. 

Eris held you as the sun set, his strong arms wrapped around your waist, chest pressed against yours. His heart thrummed rapidly, the heat coursing through his veins sunk into your skin, warming your every inch. Your arm was slung over his chest, tracing the light freckles smattered across his collarbone. You laid against him, legs woven together, head propped up on your other arm, entranced by the male’s dark eyes. 

“I’m starved,” Eris whispered, drawing his hand through your tangled hair, pulling the knotted strands free. 

“No more stealing apples,” you teased, a cheeky smile pulling at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling. “What would it cost me?”

You pursed your lips, feigning contention, and gave him a hum. “For a male who has everything - what are you offering?”

His eyes narrowed at you, dark brows pulling taught in challenge. “Other than the chance at holding an obviously unattainable male in your arms?” His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushed against your cool cheekbone. “Perhaps a kiss?”

You bit your bottom lip, sappy male. “Depends where,” you offered, closing your eyes and pressing your cheek flat against your palm. 

Eris heaved you up to him, chest-to-chest, laying fully on top of him. Your legs fell on either side of him, your bare legs brushing against his. His arms wrapped around you once more, pinning your own arms to your sides. “Where can I get the most reward?” He purred rhetorically, mouth so close to yours that you shared breath. His lips pressed against the tip of your nose, yet as you tilted your head back to meet him in a soft kiss, he quickly turned his head, instead trailing a line of kisses across your cheek and towards your neck. 

“Lower,” you breathed, a smirk finding your lips. You pushed against him, trying to squirm free from his grasp, careening your neck to allow more access for him to lick. His response was a deep reverb in his chest, groaning as you shifted your hips back and forth against him. 

He flipped you, laying you on the ground against his soft coat, rolling on top of you. He worked quickly to make his way between your legs, shifting lower and lower with each wet kiss. Eris looked at you from underneath his eyelashes, russet eyes darkened with hunger. “As you wish.”

______________________________________

Eris didn’t come back.

He hadn’t sought you out.

No longer did he hide in the forest, sneaking through trees, waiting to scare you. He didn’t try to steal your apples, chastise you for wiping them on your coat, dirtying the fabric. He didn’t take you on rides on his horse, or sneak you desserts from the Forest House. 

It was two months since your last night together, two months that he left you marked with hickeys and love-bites, his scent laced through your hair and along your skin. Even before the sex, Eris used to find you in the woods just to tease you. Just to get a rise out of you, to exchange witty comments, to unwind. You noticed his extra long glances, how he stared at you through the leaves, how he snuck a peek when he thought you weren’t looking. 

But what was it that you did?

What had deterred the male? You were so utterly entranced by the High Lord’s son - though you thought it was kept under wraps. You weren’t outwardly prepared to confess your infatuation in the male, how you fought against every urge to tell him that you loved him.

The thought alone made your stomach churn. 

Perhaps it was your inexperience, despite Eris’s reassurance of the contrary. His words seemed to lose meaning the longer time went on, and you couldn’t help but doubt yourself. He was unreadable, but you thought you’d made progress with him - broke him down one mocking comment at a time. You at least knew him well enough to know that wasn’t what drove him away.

As time went on, the whispers grew louder. From the servants working in the Forest House to the serfs in the stables, from the knights even to the reapers. The High Lord and his son had been in the Night Court, forging deals and alliances, signing treaties and making plans. Nothing out of the ordinary - not until you’d heard rumors from the courtiers. 

It’s what drove you away from the town that fateful day, wandering through the treeline at the edge of the shabby town, sulking in your thoughts. Eris consumed every ounce of your mind, each night you fell asleep with the memory of his tongue buried deep between your legs and awoke thinking you were back on the forest floor. 

The heavy footsteps pulled you from your lull. You paused, turning on your heel to meet your visitors who lingered behind you. Two horses, one black and one brown, both pristinely groomed, coats shining in the late afternoon sun. The rider, perched atop the larger black horse, stared down at you, lips pressed into a firm line. His brow twitched, arms crossed over his chest, that damned neutral expression splayed across his pale face. 

You cocked a brow at him, tilting your head to the side. “Look what the Cauldron dragged in,” you muttered, only loud enough for his Fae ears to pick up on. He restrained the eye roll that begged for release. “I thought you were above the mud and grime?”

He sighed, dragging forward the reigns of the brown horse. “Get on.”

You eyed the horse, obviously a peace offering. Eris knew you’d be angry with him, bringing you a horse - something you’d mindlessly told him you were interested in. 

‘Teach me how to ride?’ You’d asked, fiddling with a lock of his hair. 

He laughed, unable to suppress the low chuckle that captured his chest. ‘The horse or me?’

You swatted at his chest, pulling the thick blanket farther on your small bed. ‘Either,’ you whispered through a smile. 

You stared at the male, shifting your weight from foot to foot. “(Y/N),” he glowered, eyes flashing in warning. “Just get on the horse.”

You huffed, stomping your way to the saddle, hoisting yourself upwards. You rose on a wobbly leg, shifting your skirts to sit atop the horse, balancing with your muddy shoes in the stirrups. Eris kicked his own horse, who took off in a slow trot, leading yours through the woods. It took you no time at all to recognize the path, the freshly fallen leaves muddling the trail - the trail carved by Eris, voyaging on his horse, racing his hounds. 

You gripped the reins, so much so that you saw your own knuckles whitening. You sat uncomfortably on the large saddle, the leather stitching biting into your legs, stretched far out beside you to hook into the too-long stirrups. You glared at the male before you, seated high, back immaculately straight. He didn’t turn around to face you, unable to dare a look at your harrowing eyes. 

The rumors and stories from the past few weeks flooded your mind. You tried your best to shove them away, instead distracting yourself by counting the leaves that fell before you, by memorizing the embellishments of Eris’s jacket collar - anything to keep your thoughts free from the tortuous gossip. 

Beron is joining forces with the Night Court. He will take the Winter and Solar Courts in between.

It’ll be the largest territory in Prythian. Beron will kill Keir once he takes the land.

The High Lord of Autumn runs his court like his own personal incubus; Keir doesn’t hold a candle to the fire master himself. He makes the Court of Nightmares look like Heaven. 

And your personal favorite:

Eris and Morrigan will be wed - it’ll be the grandest wedding. The heirs to the future High King’s territory. 

You couldn’t be bothered with the political talk. The rumor of war, fighting over the same territories that spread Prythian since the dawn of time - borders so rarely redrawn over history. It was always the same, the threat of impending doom and conflict. Your stomach flipped as word spread about the young Autumn successor, his meetings with the mistress of wretchedness. 

You hadn’t believed any of the tall tales, not at first. Not until Eris disappeared without a trace, his normal visits ceasing completely, leaving you in the wet orchards alone, wandering through the eerie forest alone, in your cold bed alone. 

Even the sight of fire made you sick. 

“Upset with me, reaper?” Eris pulled tight on his reins, slowing his horse to a stop, yours quickly following suit, leaving you a half-step behind him.

You glowered in his direction, eyes flitting to the exquisite saddle once he turned to face you. “I feel nothing towards you,” you replied, quieter than intended. Your voice did not shake - you prayed to the Mother it wouldn’t. 

He smirked, head tilting back in what looked like silent laughter. Those russet eyes burned into you, as though he willed you to burst into flame in front of him. It would have been preferable. “Arduous all of a sudden? Or are you too good for me now?” His voice was laced in challenge, daring you to respond in the affirmative, allowing him the opportunity to fully tear into you. 

“Now?” You impugned. “As if I wasn’t already?”

He smiled something devilish. “Were you before? Too good for me - ” his eyes narrowed “ - when you begged for my cock?”

You felt the burn in the back of your throat. Your stomach clenched, heart dropping ten leagues below. Mind racing for retort, you bit your bottom lip - and watched as his gaze fell two inches lower and his shoulders shook with breath. “What is it that you want from me? You brought me all the way out here to deride me?”

He didn’t offer you a shake of his head, just a shrug. “I brought you out here to fuck,” he responded simply, as if it hadn’t been any different than the last time. Truth be told, it wasn’t. It was the implication that changed - the rumors, the reasoning for his disappearance. There would have been nothing different from that moment and the last months ago, if it weren’t for the scandal it would promise for a betrothed male. “It was you who brought the taunting upon yourself.”

You scoffed, on the verge of laughing at the High Lord to his face. You made to jump off the horse, swinging one leg over the saddle to rest beside the other. You couldn’t help but call over your shoulder: “Your alluring comments aside, don’t you have to go wed your Princess of Nightmares?”

Eris felt a pang in his heart. Not at the hurt in your voice, but at your princess. The female that would be tethered to him for eternity - all for a land deal. He smiled at you though, the one he showed Keir just two days ago. “Awe, (Y/N),” he crooned. “Don’t get jealous now, green is not a good color on you.”

But Eris decided at that moment, that it was, in fact, his favorite color on you. 

You mirrored his smile, offering him a flash of teeth that had him ready to fall to his knees before you. “You know, I didn’t expect you to take such a slovenly female as your bride - ” you pushed yourself off the horse, dropping down to the muddy earth “ - one that was fucked by those Illyrian brutes.” 

Eris stared blankly at you, unmoving. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

That sentence hurt worse than any of the other belittling comments he’d made that afternoon. You pushed past the knot in your throat. “So it’s true then?” They were to be married. 

Ah, the upper hand. That’s what it felt like.

He blinked, a break in his posture as his shoulder sagged forward toward you, crinkling the deep green fabric. He was caught by surprise - that’d you feel so attacked by his marriage arrangement. That you’d make up such a deceitful lie to harm his reputation out of spite. It was all Eris had, afterall. Besmirching the High Lord’s family had consequences - some that Eris was debating administering at that very moment.

“Oh…” You didn’t fight off the smile that returned to your lips - the knife driving to his heart. Worse perhaps: slicing straight through his ego. “You didn’t know?” Eris remained still, a schooled neutral expression pulled over his sharp features, slowly trying to gain recomposure into the assured male he was known to be. No doubt a skill taught to him early on, one that came in handy in hiding his true emotions.“It was a bastard, too. Doesn’t even have a surname.” 

“Fearless (Y/N),” he began, fingers regaining grip on the reins. He cracked his back, sitting up right and craning his broad shoulders backwards toward his spine. “I’ve warned you once to watch how you speak to the crown. I think you will find the second warning will not be as well received as the first.”

With that - an empty threat - Eris left you in the woods, ushering his horse back toward the Forest House, the other - yours - following suit. You cursed the Fae, kicking at the clump of crunchy leaves as he rode away from you, leaving you miles from your home. 

______________________________________

Eris felt sick the day he took his troops out for patrol at the Autumn border. 

He walked along the path he’d taken you on, right past the spot where you’d spat at him, spewing falsities like you were so much better than him. You already had your own free will, a future in which you could actually choose who to spend it with. Your life wasn’t traded like cattle, pawned in a scheme for land, bargained for war allies. 

He cursed the image of you every time it crawled into his head, especially when it was late at night and sleep evaded the male. Was it the guilt for what he said? The feeling of regret, perhaps, leaving you with the threat of Beron’s hand - what you’d get for humiliating the High Lord’s son. He damned himself for hiding behind his father, behind the crown. It was shameful, really, to think it was enough protection to scathe through life. Where would that get him? Would it eventually earn him a crown of cowardice? 

The Autumn troops marched behind him, heavy rain biting at the steel armor, the snare echoing through the quiet woods. “Sir,” his lieutenant called out, pulling Eris away from the shrill melody. 

The redhead snapped his attention to his second-in-command. He watched as the other male halted the troops, all standing still as the tree trunks surrounding them. Eris unsheathed his sword, sensing the danger his second must be noting, something alarming enough to disrupt the drill. With a firm grip on the hilt of his heavy blade, he met the Lieutenant in the clearing, the border right where Summer met Autumn. Right where he had lain you down last time he was there. 

Eris was met with a blonde Fae, clothes slitted and soaked with cold rain, blood staining the stomach of the female. His eyes washed over his former betrothed, the one who’d chosen to bed an Illyrian mutt sooner than marry him. His throat stung, bile biting at him as he stared into her brown eyes. 

You had been right, afterall; your words not falsities spun out of anger. Though they were spoken with malice, you hadn’t made up the story of the Fae bedding the Illyrian - turned out she would have done anything to evade her marriage to Eris, even if that included biting off her own leg.

Morrigan said nothing, simply stared at him, eyebrows narrowed, lips pulled into a grimace. Eris thought it was ironic: how she ought to be disgusted with him in that moment of vulnerability, bleeding on his land. But fate was a funny thing.

The Nightmare pride ran strong. 

He turned to his second, sensing the seeping darkness between the trees. Eris felt the shadows creep in, the chill in the air shift into the cool caress of night. Disregarding the female and the note pitifully attached to her womb, he continued down his path without a word, a silent command for his troops to follow. 

Eris’s hand stayed flexed against the handle of his sword, sheathed as he continued walking. He prepared himself to meet Rhysand, the other Illyrian bastards he hung around with, as he continued surveying his land. The only trace of Autumn on Morrigan had been the dark mud and orange leaves caked to her clothes. Not a trace of Eris’s scent, his soldiers, barely his land. She reeked of Night Court, her mother’s letter and putrid father’s steel nails. 

As soon as he touched her, she’d be his. 

He didn’t want her. Didn’t need her. 

So Eris left her, and offered her the greatest gift he could ever manage by leaving her there for the shadowsinger to find. He thought nothing more beyond that - that and a sentence he knew he’d never be able to say for himself:

You’re free.

______________________________________

He found you in the same place as he always did. The same place as the first time he’d met you.

You rose on your tiptoes, stretching your arm skyward to pull an apple from the branch above your head. You wore the same dirty coat, a ratty white apron tied around your dark dress. Mud clung to your boots and the hem of your skirts, dew piling the back of the wool jacket. Despite the cool breeze, sweat beaded your forehead, strands of hair clung to your temples. 

You noticed him before you let on, ignoring the male, blissfully unaware of his nervous stance, continuing about your chores. You mulled over everything you wanted to say, all of the things you anticipated him saying. It wasn’t until he approached you that you indulged him in greeting. “I haven’t heard news of your wedding.” He groaned, stopping beside you, leaning against the tree trunk casually. “Did she decide she liked the taste of Illyrian better?”

“Don’t be disgusting, (Y/N).” You met the eyes of the furious male, your comment not landing well with him. His jaw clenched, emphasizing the new cut that ran from his chin down the column of his throat. His under eyes were shaded with purple, in which you were unsure if he wasn’t sleeping or if they were healing bruises. 

“And how is the nightmarish harridan? Everything you were hoping for?”

He was already tired of your prodding. Eris pushed himself upright, standing rigid as his tone turned lethal. “She was a deal. Curated between my father and hers - an alliance, (Y/N). What choice did I have?”

“I don’t know what choices you had or did not have.” Your voice was calm, leveled. Months of rage had subsided, you’d spent nearly every day withdrawn from civilization, wandering through the woods with nothing but your thoughts, coming to terms with the High Fae that fucked you over. “I didn’t have that luxury with you - of sharing your thoughts. Humor me, though, what choices do you have now?”

Eris nearly shrugged, hopeless. “I don’t have a choice now. I will not marry her - ”

You cut him off with a stiff laugh. Your feelings toward Keir’s daughter had subsided, it wasn’t about her. You let your anger lie with the male before you, your racing thoughts getting the better of you. “Having a soiled bride is truly so bad that you sacrificed such a grand plan?” You cut him off, holding your hand up as you continued: “She’s no longer a female worth marrying because she’s not pure?” You scoffed. “You surely aren’t.” You could have sworn a grimace of offense crossed his features. “I am not either, Eris. Am I no longer good enough?”

“Taking your maidenhead was not my intention, (Y/N),” he responded slowly, reaching a hand out to grasp yours. You retreated slowly, crossing your arms over your chest, shrinking, tucking into yourself. “It was a consequence, but you surely cannot think me such a prideful male.”

“Consequence,” you repeated, the word bitter on your tongue. “You took my purity and left me to marry another female. Do you truly value chastity like you claim you do? Or were you just planning on hanging the bloodied sheets outside your kingdom in victory after your wedding night?” He said nothing, not confirming your suspicion, but not entirely denying it. “It’s a sick game of male arrogance.”

“It’s not.” Eris took a step toward you, not with the same caution he had earlier when he tried for your hand. He towered over you, his moving closer, leaving you only mere inches away. But you wouldn’t back down again - even if that meant staring nearly directly upwards at him. 

“And what of me, then?” You didn’t attempt to read whatever light flashed in his flaming eyes. “You took my maidenhead and left for Morrigan without a fight - without so much as a goodbye - ”

“I did seek you out - ”

“For a fuck over the dead leaves and mud,” you emphasized, slicing through his excuse easily. Your gut wrenched as you continued, speaking hoarsely as you raised your voice. “You fucked me and left me. Ruined me for any other marriage.” No High Fae would marry a used female. Not in the Autumn Court Beron ruled. As much as you chastised Eris for it, you both knew you were right. “Any hope of finding a marriage with even a fraction of benefit that you had is long gone.” 

Eris swallowed your words, unable to dispute the truth. You would have been lucky to marry a soldier, a knight even. Your father surely could support a meager dowry, one that a high ranking blacksmith or perhaps a scholar would accept. All of whom would marry a virgin. There were plenty of untouched females with dowries. Beron kept Autumn antiquated, refusing to amend his archaic laws and primitive actions. “You’re right, (Y/N). But I ruined you,” he acknowledged, biting his tongue as you winced at his words. “You’re mine.”

You let his words roll over you, testing how they tasted on your tongue. “Yours.”

Eris’s heart swelled, perhaps just the primal urge in the male to fuck and claim. 

“I do not belong to you.” His brows rose instantly, jaw slack, unprepared with a response. “I am not ruined and I am not yours. Not your property to parade around your father or court. I am not good enough to marry, only fuck. There is no difference between myself and Morrigan.” 

“It was the who that was worse than the action itself.” The young male in front of you never had good luck. He’d been dealt losing hand after hand by the Mother - a fate that wouldn’t change anytime soon, apparently.

Fate was a funny thing.

“You ruined my chances for an honorable marriage, to marry a good male.” Eris felt the venom in your words before you even spoke them: “I’d rather live ten thousand years and die alone than be with you.”

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Climate Change Fuels Northwest Tree Die-back

I’ve been living in the Pacific Northwest since 2006. I moved here in part because of the overall milder weather compared to the Midwest where I grew up. And yet since then I’ve watched the average temperatures get hotter, the hot periods get longer, and the rainy season shorten at both ends like the edges of a dried leaf curling up in drought. This has led to an increase in tree die-back.

There’s no more iconic natural symbol of this region than a forest. Images of vast conifer woods are used to attract tourists here, and tree iconography graces company logos, license plates, and the flag of our bioregion. The timber industry still holds immense amounts of power and land here, but conservation groups are hard at work preserving as much non-plantation forest as possible, especially the last few scraps of old growth.

It is alarming, then, to see that some of the first widely visible casualties of climate change are trees.

Last year Oregon saw the biggest die-off of fir trees–true firs in the genus Abies, not the Douglas fir, Pseudotsuga menziesii. My favorite species of tree, the western red cedar (Thuja plicata) is also declining at a frightening rate. And for the last few years, I’ve watched numerous Sitka spruce trees (Picea sitchensis) struggle and ultimately die; mature trees are surprisingly susceptible. It’s not just the conifers that are in trouble, though; one of the region’s largest deciduous trees, the bigleaf maple (Acer macrophylla) has also been hit hard by hotter, drier summers.

It’s a one-two punch, because drought-stressed trees are more susceptible to diseases and parasites. The Sitka spruce are plagued by spruce aphids, for example, but the other species also have trouble fighting off their attackers. Couple that with warmer winters that may not kill off as many invertebrates, fungi, and bacteria as usual, and infestations often roar back even bigger once spring returns. If the trees were healthy and well-hydrated their immune systems might have a better chance of fending off pathogens, but drought weakens them too much.

Other denizens of the forest are struggling, too. Amphibians here and elsewhere aren’t just going to be seeing more of their habitat dry up, but they’re also feeling more pressure from fungal infections and other pathogens. And last year the mycelium of many fungi dried out so badly in the heat that we had a terrible fall mushroom season; fungi need a certain level of hydration to be able to move the nutrients required to build the mushrooms.

I wish I could tell you there were sure fixes for tree die-back and other environmental ills. Unfortunately, even a basic understanding of climate change makes it clear that this is a massive, multi-faceted problem compounded by other environmental destruction. There are plenty of people trying to pick this massive Gordian knot apart, but it’s going to take time, and for those of us alive right now climate change mitigation is more likely than total reversal.

But–sometimes the best thing one single person can do is tug at an individual thread. And sometimes that can make a difference on a local, personal level. For example, arborists suggest that if you have a small number of vulnerable trees in your yard, you may be able to help them get through the drought with supplemental watering. Planting more native trees is still a valid way to help, too! Your young seedlings and saplings may also need some extra water each summer, but even if only some of them survive further tree die-back that’s still more trees than there were before. Just make sure you’re planting them in appropriate ecosystems!

Since I mentioned them earlier, amphibians and other wildlife can benefit from the preservation and restoration of their habitat, even small patches of wetlands and other cool, damp places. If you’re feeling ambitious and have the opportunity, building a small pond and surrounding it with native plants may offer frogs and salamanders a safe place to spawn and rest.

Even if you don’t have a yard or can’t take on a project at home, see if any local municipal, county, or nonprofit organizations need volunteers for habitat restoration projects in your area. Biodiversity centered on native species is one of the best ways to help an ecosystem weather harsh changes; even if one species is struggling, another native species in the ecosystem may be able to take up some of the slack and still support the overall web of interrelationships. Removing invasive species is quite possibly one of the best ways to prepare an ecosystem for the onslaught of climate change. And not every member of a given species is going to drop dead instantly; a healthy population of a species can handle some mortality and still reproduce enough to keep going. Habitat restoration is key to both bolstering biodiversity and increasing population numbers of the species themselves. That’s going to help the trees, the fungi, the amphibians, and everyone else, too.

Finally, it’s important to keep taking care of yourself. You can’t be a good steward to the nature around you if you’re so tired and depressed that you can barely get out of bed. The stress of climate change, sociopolitical turmoil, and interpersonal issues, among other things, is enough to have knocked a lot of people down; even I have days where my optimism gets tarnished and worn. So please don’t feel bad if you just can’t muster the time, energy, or other resources to “go save the world.” Do your best to get that self-care going, even if it’s just the bare bones, and no need to feel guilty, either.

One thing I find helps a lot when I’m feeling down about, well, everything is to take Mr. Rogers’ advice and look for the helpers. The news is full of negativity because that’s what gets clicks. But I try to focus on ways people are trying to improve things. Sometimes amid the scary headlines I do find stories of scientific breakthroughs that can help curb climate change symptoms, or other environmental success stories. I consider that in spite of the unwieldiness of large, governmental bodies, there are people within federal, state, and other public entities who are doing their best to use the resources available to them to do some good in the world. I also reconnect with individual people I know who are trying to make the world a better place, even in very small ways, and I remember that quite often the changes that are helping are too quiet and unobtrusive to make it into the media. Or, as Tolkien said via Gandalf the Grey: “I have found that it is the small everyday deed of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love.”

And I walk outside, where there are still many Sitka spruce in view. A few of them still show damaged branches from previous heat waves, but they persist in spite of that. In the weeks to come, the tips of their branches will start growing bright green new growth for the year. I can’t promise them that I can save every single one in the next tree die-back, but it reaffirms for me that I still have many reasons to keep fighting.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!