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gutsby · 29 days

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dark!Joel explaining to you how reader-proofed the bunker, because you're his now and he's never ever letting you go.

BESTIE THEY’RE GONNA LOCK US UP FOR THIS 😭😭

Just like Joel LOL okay here we gooooooo…

Confines

Dark!Joel x Dark!Reader

TW: NONCON, Stockholm Syndrome (not the 1D song). Unprotected p-in-v. Bondage. Blindfolding. Dacryphilia. Daddy kink. Choking. Somno. Slapping. Possessiveness.

Good morning kisses from Joel Miller rarely landed anywhere but your cervix. The head of his cock had a funny way of mimicking lips with a tap tap tap at the back of your cunt, like a lover leaving a trail of gentle pecks across your cheeks to rouse you out of your sleep. However, this was no kiss at all, and Joel was no lover. Most times, the man barely seemed to tolerate you at all.

Which was why you’d grown accustomed to the nudge of his cock between your soft, wet, and sensitive walls first thing in the morning, every morning, no matter how often you’d told him you didn’t want to do it like that.

This time, when you blinked to find the outline of his face in the morning’s first light, you were met with a blindfold. When you lifted your hands to steady yourself against the bed, the floor, his chest, just anything to keep you tethered, you felt a pinch at both wrists. They were pinned to the headboard above you, hanging limply as Joel’s thrusts sent the metal frame clanging to the wall.

A warm, stubbled mouth found the side of your face. Just as you flinched, it let out a breathy chuckle,

“Mornin’ dar—”

“Take it off.”

You surprised yourself with how fast the words came. Most times it would have taken a minute or more to regain your bearings after being woken up by Joel’s cock.

The bandana around your eyes just freaked you out. The rope fastenings, too, sent a shockwave of fear straight through to your heart. Your ankles—free, fortunately—kicked around at Joel’s feet in protest as his hips shook and snapped against yours, splitting you open to him.

The lips that rested above your cheek pressed a kiss to it. A real one, this time.

You almost wished it’d been a slap instead. You turned your face away and started to say, ‘Joel’ in vehement disgust, when the mouth left another kiss. Then another.

“Got a surprise for ya, baby—”

And another.

“—just hold still, alright?”

What meager amount of food you’d been able to keep down in the time you’d spent with this psychopath seemed to sour in your stomach at his words. There he was kissing you, holding you, fucking you into the bed against your will, all while speaking so cloyingly sweet.

“Just get it over with,” you seethed, fighting back the upsurge of bile as you spoke through your teeth.

Much to your dismay, the man kept peppering kisses along your jaw as he took you like that kind lover might. Then he made his way up to your lips and claimed them, too, and in between bites of, ‘Fuck off’ from you and ‘Feel so good’ from him, he managed to kiss you. Deep.

His lower half continued to stutter against your own in gentle, shallow thrusts, and with every brush of his cock inside you, your body became a traitor to your mind.

“Fuck y— ah,” you finished in a whimper when the head of him grazed a particularly sensitive ridge. Joel grinned.

“Alright?”

Is it alright I’m fucking you now? Is this okay?

“No,” you snapped at the silent query, shaking your head.

And, at a time when a less patient Joel might’ve slapped you across the face for rejecting his advances, this Joel just pulled you closer. Loosened the restraints around your wrists until your hands dropped to either side of you and finally hoisted you up to sit in his lap, straddling him.

That sweet spot inside you was practically punctured by his cock at this new angle; you let out a soft whine into Joel’s shoulder, and he started stroking your hair.

“I know, I know,” he murmured softly.

But he didn’t. He didn’t.

You clenched your jaw to suppress another sound.

“What…surprise?” you finally choked instead of moaned.

At that, Joel seized your hips firmly in his hands and started working your body in circles against him. Every time you tried to jump up in protest—and pleasure—he’d slam you back down on his cock and keep at it, adamant.

Still soft as he spoke to you: “Guess.”

You were slightly ashamed you had to bite his shoulder to keep from moaning again. But damn, he felt nice.

“You’re letting me go.”

“Correct.”

“Huh?”

You would’ve bit him again had he not pulled you into his chest and sank his member even deeper between your walls. You felt instantly suffocated and filled to the brim, but you couldn’t deny the spark of joy that came to flicker at the pit of your stomach. He was letting you go?

“I mean it, baby. Won’t keep ya tied up no more.” Joel was panting into your hair as his hips started working a feverish pace against you. It was all you could do to hold tight and keep your moans contained; he was drawing your pleasure out with every graceless, desperate stab.

“R-Really?”

As if to answer, wordlessly, Joel tugged at your blindfold.

At first it barely loosened far enough to uncover your eyes, then it inched down your cheeks, painstakingly slow, then it dropped to your collarbone. You were still blinking through tiny, modulating pinpricks of light and an obscure haze when you felt him squeeze the fabric.

The red bandana hung loose around your neck now, but Joel kept a grip on the material as your vision adjusted.

When you blinked twice more, you understood why.

“Where are we?!”

But a very pussydrunk Joel Miller was busy using your body like a bona fide fleshlight. Working you up and down his cock in short, vicious strokes, grunting into your neck, sinking his fingers into your flesh just deep enough to wring a couple pained whimpers out from your lips. You were still straddling his hips, staring over his shoulder as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“What…is this…place?” Your voice curtailed to a breath.

“Home,” Joel answered.

Home. You had to believe he was kidding.

Surely no person in their right mind could confine you to a windowless, subterranean bunker and call that home.

Then you remembered this man was fucking insane.

Your gaze surveyed the full length of the room by turns. In total, it couldn’t have been wider than four or five of the beds you were sitting on, placed side-by-side, and the walls were slate grey. Concrete boxed you in from all angles. A single, bare bulb hung from a chain overhead, and in its glow, you saw a whole hell of a lot of nothing.

Nothing but dust bunnies and dismal, hellish desolation. Nothing but a stripped-down bed and Joel, still fucking you on it. Nothing by way of a door, even, save for what appeared to be some small wooden panel in the ceiling.

In short, it was solitary confinement as soon as Joel left. Prison for you, and pure, unadulterated control for him.

You pressed your palms to either one of his shoulders and tried to lift yourself off him, but the gesture was fruitless. Joel already had an ironclad grip on your shoulder and was anchoring you to his frame as he fucked you. All you could do was sit there and be bounced up and down on his shaft and stare, unflinchingly, at the space there before you.

“You said…said you were letting me go.”

Against your will, tears were welling up.

Joel just stroked your shoulder, then the rest of your back. Then he hummed as if acknowledging something.

“I am,” he insisted, “You’re free, darlin’.”

Before you could object, he continued,

“Free to use this place however you please.”

“W-W-What the fuck is it, even?! Huh?”

You hated how high-pitched your voice had gotten as the realization began to settle over you. This was home. This was freedom. This was life for you, now, in a makeshift bunker beneath your captor’s home. A nightmare.

Joel seemed to resent the tone of your voice, too. Securing a tighter grip, he slammed his cock straight down to the hilt, and for a second, you saw his mask slip.

“This ain’t good enough?” he growled.

The head of his cock carved an angry, erratic shape in your cunt as he thrusted into you at an even wilder pace. You bounced and groaned and hated yourself for whining into each stroke with a welt of pleasure.

“I wanna go home,” you whimpered, at war with yourself.

You’d never felt so aroused and terrified at once, and you could no longer swallow the sounds that were clawing their way up your throat. When Joel yanked you backward to get a closer look at your face, you felt weak.

“You don’t like this?” He made a point to punctuate ‘like’ with a particularly merciless thrust—one that grazed your g-spot and nearly sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Home,” you just keened again, feeling pathetic.

Suddenly, you were flipped to your front on hands and knees. Joel was taking you from behind in no time at all, cock stretching you out in a series of violent pumps.

“This is home,” he spat, “This is your home. Forever.”

Next, the friction from his cock felt like it could’ve started a fire with how fast he was fucking you. Ruthless, reckless, pitiless, and above all else, punishing you for not accepting his gift with open arms. Just when you feared he might yank on your hair, Joel reached for the bandana around your throat instead and hoisted you up to him like the fabric was a leash. You coughed at once.

“Joel!”

“What? This hurt?”

‘Yes’ was barely able to make it past your windpipe with how tight he was twisting the bandana around your neck. He pulled your back flush to his chest and made a point to ignore your breathless, half-spluttered cries as he tongued a wet stripe up the side of your face.

You didn’t realize it then, but he was licking your tears.

“Keep cryin’. Only makes me harder,” he said in your ear.

If you weren’t presently fighting for the ability to breathe, his statement might’ve sent a chill through your body. But as it was, your lungs were waging the battle of a lifetime, and your cunt wasn’t that much better off.

The pleasure continued to build.

You didn’t want it to. Didn’t want him to be the cause.

But it did, and he was. When you clenched around Joel, you heard what sounded like a laugh, then felt three thick fingers slide down to stretch your folds apart.

“‘S’my good little fuckhole,” he sneered. Then, working circles and feeling you buckle under his touch, “Can’t breathe, but she needs to cum on daddy’s cock, huh?”

Something pulsed inside you, and you sensed that it was Joel’s cock twitching within your walls—gloating with that filthy little tidbit between his teeth as he fucked you and drew more strangled moans than he could count. Against every cry in your brain and what remained of your better judgment, you lowered your hand to grip Joel’s forearm. Instead of trying to pry him off, you pushed him in and, for the first time, nodded your head.

“Yes, daddy,” you hissed. Half-breathing.

Joel’s grip tightened on the bandana, and his digits rubbed in even quicker circuits. His cock continued to plunge in and out of you, squelching loud in your ears.

Just when the first shameful crest of your climax began to rise, you were thrust back onto the bed, face-first.

Joel followed you in one fluid, forceful motion and was at the side of your head in an instant, panting in your ear. Still pounding you from behind, but now in prone bone—taking on all the quality and vigor of a wild beast as he fucked you into the mattress and draped his whole body overtop yours. You were splayed out and defenseless, but, importantly, not fighting against him for once. That zeppelin-esque swell of pleasure had blossomed to the size of half your body, it seemed, and right now, all that was left to your mind was finding release on Joel’s cock.

And home.

Home, home, home—almost hell on earth—but home.

Joel grinned, and his eyes searched yours from beside you. You stared right back and met with a bottomless pit.

Then his hips dug into yours once more, driving deeper than he’d been all night, and those two sets of empty, lifeless eyes peering into one another pinched inward with pleasure. You both reached your peak, and your bodies moved in sync, and then spasmed some, writhed a bit, and Joel fisted the hair at the back of your head in some senseless, desperate plea and just kissed you.

You didn’t fight back.

This was home.

For now.

For anyone (no one) who was curious to see my creative process in bringing this dumbass story to life:

#IF YOU NEED ME I’LL BE CHEWING THE BARK OFF THE NEAREST TREE #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dark!joel

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allywthsr · 4 months

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MAKING ORNAMENTS | (l.norris)

summary: you and your kids make ornaments, lando is a supportive dad

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: dad!landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: kids

notes: I want Lando to take care of my kids 🥺

advent calendar

You sat with Lando and your two kids, Louis and Sofia around the table, craft items in front of you. Louis was three years and little Sofia was just half a year old, she currently lay in Lando’s arms, while he was feeding her. She latched just fine at the beginning, but two weeks ago she started to refuse your breasts and only wanted to be fed by the bottle, it wasn’t your ideal breastfeeding ending, but if she felt more comfortable with the bottle, you weren’t one to deny her that.

Lando stared down at her with a big smile, still in a dream that she was here and he was able to protect her, his little princess. Not that he wasn’t protective over Louis, but he was a little boy, he was headstrong and already stood up for himself. Sofias' hand was wrapped around Lando’s thumb and he left kisses every now and then on her forehead, smelling that baby smell each time, she smiled up at him, clearly happy that he was feeding her.

But back why you were sitting around the table with the family, you wanted to make Christmas ornaments and presents. You found some cute stuff online and wanted to try it out with your kids.

The one you liked the most was an ornament diy, you needed to take a bit of clay and form it into a flat round shape and press the kids‘ hand in the clay, afterwards, you needed to make a little hole at the top, where you could later put a thread through and hang it on the Christmas tree. So you got to work, rolling around the clay with your hand to warm it up a little. You pressed it on the table, that you covered with cling film, so it wouldn’t get dirty, and tried to flatten it, while keeping the round shape.

Louis wasn’t as happy with the idea of having to do crafts, he liked to play with his toy cars or stack his Lego Duplo on top of each other, the only crafty thing he liked was Play-Doh, it was rare that he wanted to draw.

When the clay was flattened enough and you made two of them, you ushered Louis to come to you, he climbed down his kiddy chair and you lifted him on your lap, ”Louis, do you want to press your hand in the clay? We then have your handprint on it.“

He looked at you with big eyes, ”Mama, why?“

Lando chuckled while Sofia was almost finished with her bottle.

”We then can hang it on our tree, as an ornament.“

”Why?“

By now Lando was laughing, Louis had his questioning phase at the moment, everything was questioned and he had to know the answer.

”Because it’s pretty and a good memory.“

He nodded and held out his hand to you, you gently grabbed his arm and pressed his hand into the clay, with your other hand you pressed his fingers more into the clay, making sure his handprint was fully on there.

Lifting his hand, you gasped at the handprint, it was perfect, ”Look, Louis! Your handprint, what do you think?“

”It’s pretty mummy, daddy, look!“

Lando got up with the empty bottle and Sofia and came around, so he was able to look at the handprint.

”Louis, you did so good! It’s beautiful.“

He brought the bottle to the kitchen and turned Sofia around so he could burp her, he came back and caressed Louis‘ head.

”Louis, do we want to do that again? It’s for Nana and Papa, so they have one as well for their tree.“

He nodded and held his already dirty hand to you again. You repeated the step you did a few seconds ago, and when he lifted his hand, the three of you gasped.

”Mummy! My hand.“

”Pretty, isn’t it? Should we go and wash your hands?“

Louis nodded and you lifted him off your lap and sat him on the floor where he started to run to the bathroom. Quickly you left a kiss on your daughter's cheek and went after your son, to help him wash his hands. Once his hands were clean and you returned to the table with Louis, Lando, and Sofia waiting for you two, Sofia was burped and ready for her turn, not that she knew what was happening soon.

”Look, Louis, I will make a hole in the clay and once it’s dry, we can hang it on our Christmas tree. Do you want to watch your sister do the same?“

He excitedly nodded and sat on his kiddy chair again, playing with a few cars while you made the holes in the clay. Sofia was getting fuzzy, Lando tried to calm her by bouncing her up and down, but she was not having it.

”Daddy, do you want me to talk to Sof?“

He was so mature for his age and already the best big brother ever, he knew when Sofia was fuzzy, not a lot helped, she mostly wanted to be held and played with. Lando nodded and lowered Sofia, so Louis was able to look at her while standing up.

”Sof, you can stop crying, it’s not scary, and when it’s finished we have a pretty-looking ornament, you don’t need to cry.“

You teared up at what Louis was saying, he was truly the best big brother ever, protecting his sister at all costs and trying to cheer her up. He kissed her cheek and Lando gave Sofia to you, so you could get over with the clay part pretty quickly. While Louis was calming her down, you already made two round shapes, the only thing that was missing was her handprint.

You positioned her so that you could press her hand in the clay, Lando helped you with gently adding pressure on her hand to get her handprint on there. When you lifted her hand, and the print was beautiful, you immediately pressed her hand against the other clay, Lando repeating the same as he did with the other one.

Louis squealed when he saw her handprints and Lando took her to the bathroom, where he cleaned Sofia's hands.

You moved the clays to a safe spot where they could dry, and Louis couldn’t reach them.

”Mummy, when’s daddy coming back? I want to play with him.“

”Soon baby, he’s putting Sof down for a nap, did you like crafting? We can do it every year and see your hands grow!“

”Yes, mummy, but I can go play now?“

You chuckled and nodded, when Lando came back and kissed your cheek, you told him that Louis was waiting for him in the living room.

”I love you, and our kids so much.“

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #formula 1 #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris one shot #lando imagine #christmas tree #dad!lando norris

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raycatzdraws · 3 months

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ribbonwood

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu hyrule #(also zelda 1!!! but idk how people would feel about me tagging it since I used Jojo's design?)#(ya'll can always tag my gen loz art as LU (or as any linkverse honestly if it inspires you to think about your favs) and vice versa)#(I want to inspire you to think and create! If you see my gen loz art and want to add that to your headcanons or it changes how you think??#take it! play with it! invite me to play as well haha!)#(not ocs but like- gen stuff??? ye go for it)#mom walked in and looked at the comic I was working on #so I started rambling about my plans with it and what my peers are working on and how cool it all is and how I want to have more of that #and she said “what a waste of time”#so I got loosey goosey with it :\#nice exercise to just draw w/o doing guides or being careful #did this in like under 15 minutes! >:D #but anyways #I haven't slept yet so gn!#.. he's holding stuff in the wrong hands!!!! a #look up ribbonwood / redshanks trees! If Hyrule was a tree- this is it #I imagine zelda 1&2's landscape to be california chaparral!!! I'm really passionate about it!!!!!#check out the california chaparral institute's website -> chaparral -> chaparral types #it's Hyrule's Hyrule!

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 5 months

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how about that uhhhhh Fantasy Julie. she gets her sword <3 no one can take it from her <3

rambles:

SIKE you get an extra, lower quality doodle

SIKE AGAIN here's the rambles

yeah... i caved and gave her a tail... I'm Not Sorry! it's cute! i wanted to stick with her sorta flower motif - it's stronger in her princess look, since I imagine that when she was part of the royals she was very blatantly flower power based. it was her Thing!

but a Julie free of her noble shackles... she deserves her big sword. like yeah, she has flower magic, but who needs it when she has a Giant Blade??? on the royalty vein, and if we're classifying "rainbow monster" as a species, i feel like horn size/curve would be a status symbol of some kind. maybe Julie would have kept her horns filed short. but if she ran away from that life... longer horns! i like to imagine that they'll keep growing until she has a pair of Extra Weapons attached to her head! curved forward like mammoth tusks maybe!

i imagine that like Frank, she goes with minimal armor - range of movement over protection, yk? some scale mail over her front, a thick leather flower over her chest w/ scalloped leather pauldrons, wrist armor and metal knuckles! i'd think that the faux-suspenders include a back sheath for her sword... i wish i'd thought of that Before i finished the little ref! i don't feel like going back and editing!

i imagine that she was forced to cut her hair when it got caught in something (a gelatinous cube, mayhaps). it didn't look good! don't let anime and Mulan fool you! cutting your own hair with a blade will not look nice! but someone - Eddie, probably, he's good with scissors i'd assume - cleaned it up for her. and hey, it didn't look bad! plus, Julie probably liked being able to just tuck up her long strands into her hat when she's feeling a bit more like a Julius than a Julie!

it's been a fun challenge transforming their canon outfits into a similar variation with fantasy flavoring and twists! i want them to suit the setting but still maintain Themselves! Julie's was tough i gotta admit. i was messing around with the princess look and the fighter look side-by-side. it worked better when i sat back and thought "fighter Julie is Julie unrestrained. that version would be more aligned with her canon look"

i wanted her princess form to look Restrained! she has to be a ~delicate flower~, a noble woman, pristine and poised and very much a princess. soft colors, poofy clothing, bright white gloves that are not to be sullied. carefully bundled up hair! jewelry! that dress must be Heavy and hard to move in! her tail must be so cramped under there!

but Julie Unleashed? violent pinks! rose gold accents! short skirt so that she can sprint and Kick! fun boots that she can be active in and delight in watching them get dirty! her hair is free to whip in the wind and get caught in things! fun straps and Deadly Accessories! a sword that she stole from the royal armory on her way out the window! she has forearm wraps both to match Frank and to support her wrists!

#yessss this was mainly an excuse to draw jules with short hair and a tail. i do not apologize #i like to think that poppy has a bottomless bag that she's too scared to use herself #but everybody keeps things in there #julie keeps her hair-hiding-hat in there and some pants and a cape for that Julius Vibe #(yes i could have gone with julian. but julius makes me think of orange julius and. yum)#i've said in initial rambles that i think that julie has Mild plant magic #I TAKE THAT BACK SHE'S SO FUCKING POWERFUL #i think she could hold her own against wally here tbh!#she wouldn't win if home had the reins but yk! it would still be Close!#but why would she use boring magic when she can slash punch kick #she can definitely talk to all plants. like im carrying that over thats so cool #trees warning her of an ambush... trodden-on flowers pointing her in the direction of her quarry...#roots arching out of the ground to trip anyone about to beat her in a race #scribble salad #wh fantasy au #so in canon julie left The Cave #which. fuck is that supposed to be a reference to plato's cave? ok no now's not the time for speculation #so she left the cave to seek out a life of her own #so i imagine that she left the royal life for much the same reason! she didn't want to sit on a throne in a poofy dress and lead!#she wanted to Adventure! see the world! be unrestrained!#i imagine that her repeated sneaking out is how she met frank - then when she ran she went to him cause she knew he wanted to leave #and she went 'hey im ditching this joint wanna come' and Of Course the answer was yes!#adventuring duo that never regret it for a second!#also as im making refs im adding them to a Lineup. which i'll post when ive collected all the pokemon (neighbors). size refs!!!

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theabigailthorn · 6 months

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yesterday I was panicking because the next video seemed way too big and impossible to finish on time, and today I've written five pages of the first draft and I've got that "Ooooh it's cooking!" feeling. Gotta trust that the Little Spirit who comes up with all my creative ideas has my back

#the Little Spirit lives in the woods in a tiny door in a tree #in my imagination she looks like a tiny wizened old lady a few inches tall #I knock at the door very gently and if she has some creative thoughts she will answer #sometimes I have to listen very carefully because she whispers faintly #sometimes she doesn't answer the door rightaway and I am afraid #but she always answers eventually #sometimes she answers rightaway with bags and bags of ideas!#i'm on some Hayao Miyazaki shit

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lavendermunson · 4 months

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i want you, bless my soul - eddie munson

from the candy cane box at leia's christmas tree farm

summary best friend au, with the prompt “So, um. That was something. Should we do that again?” for the one and only @onegirlmanytales thank you for requesting my love, I hope you like the direction I took and enjoy it so much!!

cw FLUFF. best friends to lovers. two oblivious idiots in love. r's first kiss. brief mention of insecurities. steve and robin cameo!

w.c 1.7k

“No one has ever kissed me… let’s just forget about it!”

You sigh, placing the freshly baked cookies on a beautiful porcelain bowl Eddie gave you last Christmas. Their scent calming every nerve your best friend decides to play with today. All of your friends are arriving in a couple of minutes for the annual Christmas party.

“You are telling me no one has ever kissed you under the rain?”

“Eddie please, just stop it”

“No one has ever kissed you under the moonlight!”

He tries to guess. You regret telling him about your first kiss. It hasn’t happened yet… but he thinks it has, he just thinks it was bad or embarrassing because you’ve never told him. And you tell him everything, he is your best friend.

“You are never going to guess, I'm tired of this now”

He chases you around your house, as you walk with the bowl of cookies in your hands. You place them on the coffee table of your living room, alongside all the other snacks and drinks to enjoy the night.

“I know! no one has ever kissed you under the mistletoe. That’s why you don’t have one”

Eddie thinks he hit the jackpot, smiling brightly at you.

“No one has ever kissed me, okay!” you snap, tired of his games. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet”

You throw your hands in the air, standing in front of him. Eddie was the only one who didn’t know about this. The rest of your friends know, because you know they weren’t going to laugh or make fun of you. But Eddie is capable of it, not because he is mean. His personality is just like that, he is the joke expert and the prank master. This was a serious topic to you, something that kept toying with your self-esteem.

Your arms fall to the side, your hands close on a fist, white knuckles and eyes shut trying to hide the embarrassment that’s eating you alive as you wait for Eddie to laugh at you and make a hundred jokes about this.

You wish the floor could swallow you whole.

Eddie notices the way you tense up, confessing the secret you’ve held for a long time. He thought there was some catch to it, but there wasn’t. Who the fuck can live without ever kissing your lips? he asks himself, when he has been dreaming about it since the first time he met you at the arcade.

You were babysitting the kids, holding their quarters for them as you paced around the sticky carpet. Back when Eddie’s ears got used to quieting down everything around him except your sweet voice.

He didn’t want to lose you, he could never. And he was sure he wasn’t your type, with your room having a Karate Kid poster and a picture of Michael Schoeffling ripped out of a magazine.

Missing the picture of Eddie Van Halen on your jewelry box, he knew your type was far away from him.

You were never going to like him, his friends would tease him about it. They would fill Eddie’s mind with ideas that tormented him before going to bed. You are way too out of his league.

He is happy with the best friend title because he gets the best friend treatment. He gets to hug you when you see him, cuddle with you on movie nights, and hang around his trailer all day. He would never trade your presence for anything, not a metal concert, not even the fame some rockstars get overnight.

For Eddie you are everything, you mean everything. His life is so much better with you around.

But he doesn’t laugh or start making a full comedy show, instead, you hear the thump of things falling out of his pockets. His lighter, a pack of cigarettes, previously chewed gum wrapped in a piece of paper, and his van keys. He empties his pockets trying to find what he has been looking for and when he finds it, he goes around your house looking for tape.

“What are you doing with that? no one is coming here to kiss me, only our friends”

“Well? m’lady. I doubt you want to spend another Christmas unkissed” He takes your hand, guiding you closer to him until you are both under the mistletoe. “This is how it works, you stand here, and as the rule says you kiss the person in front of you”

You watch as Eddie taps the branch with his finger. Pointing at it, then at him, and finally at you. You are exactly in the spot, you look at him. Begging him to kiss you.

You've thought about it for a while. What would it be like to kiss him? Not someone random, not a guy who coats your ears with sugar at work. Just Eddie.

The guy who sits on the edge of his bed, shirtless, and while his fingers are gentle with the strings of his guitar you can’t do anything else but admire. Trying to memorize all of his features and tattoo that scene on your head for the rest of your life.

The guy who asked you to color his tattoos, trusting your artistic eye and trying to kill time before the pizza got to his trailer. You asked for a rain check that night, knowing you’d lose your mind the second your fingers touched his bare chest.

“And who’s gonna kiss me?” you ask.

“Uhh, Jonathan?” Eddie asks, raising one of his eyebrows. Trying to question you to see who your type is.

“I pass”

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice cracks. If you passed at Jonathan, there’s a high chance you could say yes to Steve and he would fall to his knees, defeated.

“I don’t think so”

His brown eyes are wide open. Shit. Not even Steve?

“Let’s just enjoy our evening…” Unless you want to kiss me, you think. “Let’s forget about it”

You try to escape from the compromised positions, but your legs feel heavy as you step aside. You thought Eddie was going to kiss you.

When you try to escape, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you back to him.

“Wait”

You feel a jolt of electricity, his touch being hard on you yet not hurting. His eyes looking for yours and when you finally lock your gaze with his. He takes a deep breath, ready to risk it all.

Eddie pulls you to his chest, resting a hand on the small of your back. You feel the goosebumps all over your body, his breath tingling your lips. He notices the shine in your eyes, pleading for him to do something because you are too nervous to move.

If he wanted to kiss you, he would kiss you. That’s what you believe.

He looks at your eyes, at your lips. Impatient, he is making you melt under his touch, and you feel your insides are screaming at him to do something. You decide to wrap your arms around his waist, afraid of him slipping through your fingers and regretting this moment.

You capture him. As he looks down at you like a starved man.

Eddie’s mind is clouded with hundreds of thoughts. This could be so good, this could get bad and ugly. It’s your first kiss, it should be special. It should be with someone you like, Do you like him? Do you want him?

He snaps back to reality when you reach for a strand of hair that fell to his face. Tugging the curl in the back of his ear. Your fingers send shivers through his spine, feeling your gentle touch against his skin. He melts under your touch too.

“Let’s get this over with” he breathes out, digging his fingertips on the small of your back to keep you close. His lips press against yours, you close your eyes enjoying the moment.

But it’s your first kiss. You don’t know what to do, but just as you start to panic Eddie cups your cheeks, his thumb pressing against your warm skin.

“Relax” he whispers on your lips, taking control of the situation. You feel his lips crash with yours, dancing against them as you try to keep up with the pace.

Is this how it feels? To kiss someone for the first time, or even better, to kiss the boy you love for the first time. Your mind is in the clouds, every part of your body feels lighter as a feather.

His lips are so soft. What the actual fuck? How were you able to survive so long without this?

It’s your first kiss. But it feels like it’s Eddie’s too. He can feel his body fill up with electricity, his heart thumping against his chest – just like yours – He has kissed girls before, even boys. But this feeling is new, he is finally kissing someone he loves.

“WOAH! They are kissing” You break away from the kiss as you hear Robin’s voice. She looks at you then at Eddie, a smile showing off on her face. “Sorry, keep doing that!”

“Good job, guys!” Steve says, pushing Robin to the kitchen as she keeps her thumbs up in the air.

Eddie shakes his head, looking down at you. Seeing that smile he loves so much as you giggle, with your body so close to his. You try to catch the air he knocked out of your lungs, keeping him pressed against you.

“Woah indeed” His eyes look at the mistletoe, at your puffy pink lips, and at your flushed cheeks. He grins proudly.

“That was… something” you smile, scrunching up your nose as you look at his matching pink lips and cheeks.

“Should we do it again?” he asks, his chest heaving up and down.

“Please” you whisper, feeling your body yearning for more of him.

“Anything you want, princess”

He kisses you again, this time he quickens the pace of it. You feel his tongue brush against yours causing you to whimper. He giggles at your reaction, groaning for more of you. Eddie is addicted to your taste already. If the smell of your chapstick made him crazy, this sure is going to kill him.

You start to move your tongue, feeling the closure as your teeth crash with his, and the mix of chapstick and saliva, with a touch of cigarette coats your bottom lip. You can’t get enough of the feeling of his lips keeping yours warm and nice.

“Fuck, you taste good” his shaky words come out as he takes a breather, inches from your lips. His teeth find your bottom lip, nipping at it as you open your mouth for him once again.

You won't be spending Christmas unkissed.

reblog to support your creators! comments are appreciated !! ♡ thank you for following my christmas event, your support means so much to me 🎄

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headspace-hotel · 8 months

Text

There, in the sunlit forest on a high ridgeline, was a tree I had never seen before.

I spend a lot of time looking at trees. I know my beech, sourwood, tulip poplar, sassafras and shagbark hickory. Appalachian forests have such a diverse tree community that for those who grew up in or around the ancient mountains, forests in other places feel curiously simple and flat.

Oaks: red, white, black, bur, scarlet, post, overcup, pin, chestnut, willow, chinkapin, and likely a few others I forgot. Shellbark, shagbark and pignut hickories. Sweetgum, serviceberry, hackberry, sycamore, holly, black walnut, white walnut, persimmon, Eastern redcedar, sugar maple, red maple, silver maple, striped maple, boxelder maple, black locust, stewartia, silverbell, Kentucky yellowwood, blackgum, black cherry, cucumber magnolia, umbrella magnolia, big-leaf magnolia, white pine, scrub pine, Eastern hemlock, redbud, flowering dogwood, yellow buckeye, white ash, witch hazel, pawpaw, linden, hornbeam, and I could continue, but y'all would never get free!

And yet, this tree is different.

We gather around the tree as though surrounding the feet of a prophet. Among the couple dozen of us, only a few are much younger than forty. Even one of the younger men, who smiles approvingly and compliments my sharp eye when I identify herbs along the trail, has gray streaking his beard. One older gentleman scales the steep ridge slowly, relying on a cane for support.

The older folks talk to us young folks with enthusiasm. They brighten when we can call plants and trees by name and list their virtues and importance. "You're right! That's Smilax." "Good eye!" "Do you know what this is?—Yes, Eupatorium, that's a pollinator's paradise." "Are you planning to study botany?"

The tree we have come to see is not like the tall and pillar-like oaks that surround us. It is still young, barely the diameter of a fence post. Its bark is gray and forms broad stripes like rivulets of water down smooth rock. Its smooth leaves are long, with thin pointed teeth along their edges. Some of the group carefully examine the bark down to the ground, but the tree is healthy and flourishing, for now.

This tree is among the last of its kind.

The wood of the American Chestnut was once used to craft both cradles and coffins, and thus it was known as the "cradle-to-grave tree." The tree that would hold you in entering this world and in leaving it would also sustain your body throughout your life: each tree produced a hundred pounds of edible nuts every winter, feeding humans and all the other creatures of the mountains. In the Appalachian Mountains, massive chestnut trees formed a third of the overstory of the forest, sometimes growing larger than six feet in diameter.

They are a keystone species, and this is my first time seeing one alive in the wild.

It's a sad story. But I have to tell you so you will understand.

At the turn of the 20th century, the chestnut trees of Appalachia were fundamental to life in this ecosystem, but something sinister had taken hold, accidentally imported from Asia. Cryphonectria parasitica is a pathogenic fungus that infects chestnut trees. It co-evolved with the Chinese chestnut, and therefore the Chinese chestnut is not bothered much by the fungus.

The American chestnut, unlike its Chinese sister, had no resistance whatsoever.

They showed us slides with photos of trees infected with the chestnut blight earlier. It looks like sickly orange insulation foam oozing through the bark of the trees. It looks like that orange powder that comes in boxes of Kraft mac and cheese. It looks wrong. It means death.

The chestnut plague was one of the worst ecological disasters ever to occur in this place—which is saying something. And almost no one is alive who remembers it. By the end of the 1940's, by the time my grandparents were born, approximately three to four billion American chestnut trees were dead.

The Queen of the Forest was functionally extinct. With her, at least seven moth species dependent on her as a host plant were lost forever, and no one knows how much else. She is a keystone species, and when the keystone that holds a structure in place is removed, everything falls.

Appalachia is still falling.

Now, in some places, mostly-dead trees tried to put up new sprouts. It was only a matter of time for those lingering sprouts of life.

But life, however weak, means hope.

I learned that once in a rare while, one of the surviving sprouts got lucky enough to successfully flower and produce a chestnut. And from that seed, a new tree could be grown. People searched for the still-living sprouts and gathered what few chestnuts could be produced, and began growing and breeding the trees.

Some people tried hybridizing American and Chinese chestnuts and then crossing the hybrids to produce purer American strains that might have some resistance to the disease. They did this for decades.

And yet, it wasn't enough. The hybrid trees were stronger, but not strong enough.

Extinction is inevitable. It's natural. There have been at least five mass extinctions in Earth's history, and the sixth is coming fast. Many people accepted that the American chestnut was gone forever. There had been an intensive breeding program, summoning all the natural forces of evolution to produce a tree that could survive the plague, and it wasn't enough.

This has happened to more species than can possibly be counted or mourned. And every species is forced to accept this reality.

Except one.

We are a difficult motherfucker of a species, aren't we? If every letter of the genome's book of life spelled doom for the Queen of the Forest, then we would write a new ending ourselves. Research teams worked to extract a gene from wheat and implant it in the American chestnut, in hopes of creating an American chestnut tree that could survive.

This project led to the Darling 58, the world's first genetically modified organism to be created for the purpose of release into the wild.

The Darling 58 chestnut is not immune, the presenters warned us. It does become infected with the blight. And some trees die. But some live.

And life means hope.

In isolated areas, some surviving American Chestnut trees have been discovered, most of them still very young. The researchers hope it is possible that some of these trees may have been spared not because of pure luck, but because they carry something in their genes that slows the blight in doing its deadly work, and that possibly this small bit of innate resistance can be shaped and combined with other efforts to create a tree that can live to grow old.

This long, desperate, multi-decade quest is what has brought us here. The tree before me is one such tree: a rare survivor. In this clearing, a number of other baby chestnut trees have been planted by human hands. They are hybrids of the Darling 58 and the best of the best Chinese/American hybrids. The little trees are as prepared for the blight as we can possibly make them at this time. It is still very possible that I will watch them die. Almost certainly, I will watch this tree die, the one that shades us with her young, stately limbs.

Some of the people standing around me are in their 70's or 80's, and yet, they have no memory of a world where the Queen of the Forest was at her full majesty. The oldest remember the haunting shapes of the colossal dead trees looming as if in silent judgment.

I am shaken by this realization. They will not live to see the baby trees grow old. The people who began the effort to save the American chestnut devoted decades of their lives to these little trees, knowing all the while they likely never would see them grow tall. Knowing they would not see the work finished. Knowing they wouldn't be able to be there to finish it. Knowing they wouldn't be certain if it could be finished.

When the work began, the technology to complete it did not exist. In the first decades after the great old trees were dead, genetic engineering was a fantasy.

But those that came before me had to imagine that there was some hope of a future. Hope set the foundation. Now that little spark of hope is a fragile flame, and the torch is being passed to the next generation.

When a keystone is removed, everything suffers. What happens when a keystone is put back into place? The caretakers of the American chestnut hope that when the Queen is restored, all of Appalachia will become more resilient and able to adapt to climate change.

Not only that, but this experiment in changing the course of evolution is teaching us lessons and skills that may be able to help us save other species.

It's just one tree—but it's never just one tree. It's a bear successfully raising cubs, chestnut bread being served at a Cherokee festival, carbon being removed from the atmosphere and returned to the Earth, a wealth of nectar being produced for pollinators, scientific insights into how to save a species from a deadly pathogen, a baby cradle being shaped in the skilled hands of an Appalachian crafter. It's everything.

Despair is individual; hope is an ecosystem. Despair is a wall that shuts out everything; hope is seeing through a crack in that wall and catching a glimpse of a single tree, and devoting your life to chiseling through the wall towards that tree, even if you know you will never reach it yourself.

An old man points to a shaft of light through the darkness we are both in, toward a crack in the wall. "Do you see it too?" he says. I look, and on the other side I see a young forest full of sunlight, with limber, pole-size chestnut trees growing toward the canopy among the old oaks and hickories. The chestnut trees are in bloom with fuzzy spikes of creamy white, and bumblebees heavy with pollen move among them. I tell the man what I see, and he smiles.

"When I was your age, that crack was so narrow, all I could see was a single little sapling on the forest floor," he says. "I've been chipping away at it all my life. Maybe your generation will be the one to finally reach the other side."

Hope is a great work that takes a lifetime. It is the hardest thing we are asked to do, and the most essential.

I am trying to show you a glimpse of the other side. Do you see it too?

#american chestnut #hope #climate change #biodiversity crisis #climate crisis #trees #plantarchy #learning to imagine the future

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biteofcherry · 4 months

Text

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for.

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come.

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold.

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve.

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness.

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war.

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king.

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped.

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole.

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination.

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance.

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos.

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn.

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.”

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat.

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent.

“And you are?” He asked, courtly.

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet.

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen.

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg.

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic.

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.”

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant.

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you.

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study.

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips.

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away.

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?”

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers.

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you.

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.”

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival.

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer.

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.”

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it.

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice.

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence.

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his.

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused.

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list.

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest.

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled.

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests.

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body.

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling.

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw.

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom.

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.”

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves.

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.”

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed.

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you.

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind.

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends.

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers.

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it.

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance.

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor.

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition.

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain.

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact.

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it.

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding.

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset.

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out.

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs.

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory.

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain.

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant.

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice.

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs.

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.”

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?”

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth.

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down.

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him.

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body.

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers.

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly.

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain.

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs.

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive.

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods.

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body.

#aspensenchantedbday #buckets-and-trees #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers fic #Leshy!Steve Rogers #leshy!Steve Rogers x reader #entwined

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shu-bullshit · 7 months

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Amy and her tree, September 1985.

#yeah this one is quite inspired by the views I saw on my trip #I imagine the tree Amy likes is slightly tilted and unbalanced. Many insects can be found on it.#my art #faith game #faith the unholy trinity #amy martin #digital painting

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crowleyscleaninglady · 5 months

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Broke: Crowley saying “for Satan’s sake”

Woke: Crowley saying “for Somebody’s sake”

Bespoke: Crowley giving up completely and just saying “for Fuck’s sake”

#also imagine aziraphale saying it on accident and Crowleys eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree #doing it for the sake of fuck #it would make a lot of sense #it’s also pretty in character and I felt like someone should say it #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale

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botanyshitposts · 1 year

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the city I live in had to take down a big old tree on public property down the street from where I live but before they did it they stapled a sign to it giving the reason (tree was dead and rotting and was a threat to the road and power lines) and then included contact info for objections to removing it to be brought before the city and idk I know it’s not much but I just think that’s….nice. like a nice acknowledgment that people have connections to plants and particularly big old trees around where they live and should at least be able to be like Please Do Not Cut Down This Big Old Tree For A Parking Lot Or Something. their reasoning for this one was super valid and they did indeed remove the tree earlier this week but quite frankly I was just like. surprised to (at least in theory) be able to have a say in it at all lmao

#I didn’t realize until I saw it when the sign went up that I’m just used to the cutting down of big old trees like they’re objects. you kno #like. man #idk if they put this on all trees they take down or just the ones in high traffic neighborhoods #but it makes me think like. Could you imagine if you had to do this whenever you cut down a tree for a new development or smth #and therefore the larger the land purchased for a new Walmart the more individual trees they would have to do paperwork for #to the extent that the hassle of fielding the trees in public record would outweigh the hassle of like. buying already developed land #and reusing it #?#also. the ability to enter objections for every tree to cause further problems lmao

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allywthsr · 5 months

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CHRISTENING | (l.norris)

summary: Lando wants to christen the Christmas tree

wordcount: 1.5k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: smut!

notes: the only smut this advent calendar.. what are we thinking?

advent calendar

”It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?“

”It does.“

”We should christen it.“

”The Christmas tree?“

”Yes!“

”Lando, what are you thinking?“

”I want you to lay down under the tree and open your legs, then I‘ll rail you until you’re screaming and begging for me to let you cum.“

You whispered a low ’fuck‘ and got on your knees, tugging on his waistband of his sweatpants. You pulled his pants and underwear down and licked your lips when you saw his cock springing towards you, he wasn’t fully hard yet, but that was something that could be changed in a few minutes. With your fingertips, you touched his dick lightly and teased him with it, tickling his tip and grazing all the way down to his balls.

”If you’re not touching it properly right now, I won’t let you cum today.“

With that threat in mind, you grabbed his cock, and licked from top to bottom, wetting it, so you had it easier when you were giving him a handjob. He started to make little noises, indicating he was enjoying what you were doing. The movements got faster and he grew harder in your hand, with every stroke you did, you were still teasing him by grazing his balls every now and then, you knew he was sensitive to touches down there. When you felt him twitch in your touch, you let him go and lay down on the floor, due to the underfloor heating, you wouldn’t get cold.

Lando was fast to sit on his knees between your legs, after removing his T-shirt, and pulling your pants down, just like you did to him. Your panty was thrown somewhere in the living room, and Lando took a second to admire your pussy. He often did this, taking his time and just looking at you, he couldn’t believe you were his. He laid down on his chest and his face was directly in front of your pussy, he grabbed your inner thighs and pushed them outwards, so he had better access to your core, brushing soft kisses on your legs and around your pussy.

”Fuck baby, you’re glistening“, with that he used his thumb and placed it on your clit, opening your pussy lips a bit more and letting his thumb swipe through it, collecting the juices.

You shivered at the contact, it already felt amazing.

”Look at how wet you are“, he held his finger to your face and you could see your fluids almost dripping off his thumb. You moaned quietly and he sucked his thumb in his mouth, licking off the juices. He wanted to tease you, so he blew on your pussy, the cold air made you shiver even more, and the sensation felt phenomenal.

Just after a whiny ’Lando‘, he finally got to work and licked across your slit, you let out tiny noises, he was a master at this. He opened up your pussy again and took a deep lick out of it.

”Are you enjoying this, babygirl?“

You could only moan and grip his hair, so he would start working on your pussy again.

He started off with kitten licks, teasing you to the fullest. With every lick he got deeper and at some point he even entered you with his tongue, breathy moans escaped your mouth, and started pulling on his strands, you needed to hold onto something. He drew little eights on your slit and when he finally arrived at your clit, that boy wasn’t stopping, he was licking all sorts of shapes on your bud, and you couldn’t hold it any longer. But before you could cum, he pulled his tongue off of you and let his pointer finger circle your clit, slipping it with the middle finger inside of you, slowly pumping them in and out while his tongue found its way back to your clit, toying with it.

”Are you close?“

”Y..Yes.“

”Do you want to come?“

”Lando… please…“

”Beg more for it.“

”Lando, please let me cum, I can’t contain it any longer, you make me feel so good.“

”Cum, babygirl.“

His words tipped you over the edge and you were left panting on the floor, while he sat up and looked down at you, seeing what he did to you, but you could also see what you did to him, his chin was glistening with your fluids. You were a mess and he barely touched you yet, again, he licked his fingers, so none of your juices would go to waste.

”Are you ready for my cock?“

”Yes Lando, I need it.“

With that he grabbed his dick in his hands and gave it a few pumps, getting ready for the sweet sensation he was going to feel in a second. He put his tip on your clit, and started moving it in circles, you were still sensitive because of your orgasm, and this brought you closer to your second orgasm of the night. He let go of your clit and focused on moving his tip through your lips, wetting his dick, so he had no trouble pushing into you.

You both were moaning when he slowly entered you, he stretched you out perfectly. With every centimeter he entered you deeper, you whined for more, he was so big, it surprised you every time how he fitted into you with no problem. When he was fully inside of you, he started kissing you with force, wet kisses were placed everywhere, on your face, along your jaw, on your neck, and after he pulled your T-shirt off, he clung his mouth to your nipple and sucked on it. While he focused on your right boob, he grabbed your left one with his hand and massaged it, pinching your nipple between his fingers.

”Move, Lando, I can’t hold it anymore.“

”Are you my needy baby?“

”Yes, I am. I need your big cock.“

”I‘m all yours.“

With that, he started snapping his core against yours, and you moaned at the force, he was not playing any games today, Lando was horny and you could feel it by the speed his hips met yours. The room was filled with the sound of your and Lando’s panting, as well as the sound of skin slapping against skin.

The little sounds Lando’s mouth escaped sounded beautiful and turned you on even more, Lando wasn’t that big of a moaner, only when he orgasmed, but short breaths always came out of him.

You lifted your legs and crossed them behind Lando’s back, forcing him to go even faster and harder. ”You need it fast and hard today?“

You could only nod, your mind was clouded in the post and pre-orgasm haze. You needed to hold onto something, you aimlessly reached around you, trying to find something. Without thinking about it, you grabbed a branch of the Christmas tree and with the other hand you found Lando’s back, pressing your nails into his skin, creating little crescents.

Lando was kissing your neck again, sucking slightly on it, but he was careful to not leave any marks.

You could feel yourself getting closer, just as Lando was, his movements became sloppier and his thumb found its way back to your clit, rubbing slight circles on it, stimulating you even more.

”Lando, you make me feel so good.“

”Ugh baby, you take me so well, your walls are clenching around me, I can feel it.“

You slightly pulled on the branch out of reflex and you could hear the baubles clashing against each other. That made Lando look up, ”Look at you, having to grip the Christmas tree because I‘m fucking you so good. But don’t pull on it too hard, or it‘ll fall over“, in your orgasm brain you didn’t really register what he said, just hearing him say to stop gripping the tree and you did, pulling on his hair instead.

With his last energy, Lando sped up his movements and thrusted even harder in you. Your walls clenched around him, your breath started to hitch with his every thrust, and he made you see stars.

”I‘m so close.“

”Cum for me, Y/N.“

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your back was arched and the orgasm wave washed over you, your panting became harder, and moans escaped your mouth.

A few moments later, Lando also came with moans and he painted your insides white, now he collapsed on top of you, barely holding himself up. With heavy breaths he pressed kisses all over your face, stopping on your mouth, where he lingered.

His lips were puffy and red after a while, you probably looked the same, but you both had a satisfied grin on your face, while you went to the shower to ’clean up‘, but it really just was an excuse for round two.

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