Female cherry blossom dryad x female reader (nsfw) (Patreon)

You kindly voted to stick with my original plan for August's story, so here is 4.5k words of cherry blossom dryad girl Cera. I really hope you enjoy it! 

The city was preparing for the start of the cherry blossom festival, but it was due to snow, and there was an unseasonable nip in the air. You’d lived in the city for eight years now, and had been to the festival every spring, but this year, you’d decided to give it all a miss. 

Leaving the heaving crowds and hiked-up prices behind, you rented a cabin about an hour’s drive from the city, and packed up enough gear and food to hole yourself up there for a week and just switch off. It had been a relatively spur-of-the-moment decision, with life just steadily putting pressure on you until you simply snapped, flung up your hands, and opened your internet browser to start searching for remote cabins to get away from it all. 

This year you had no significant other to think of, and you had the freedom to take some time off and treat yourself to some solitude, and some well-deserved rest and recuperation. 

The log cabin you’d found was gorgeous. The lady you’d rented it from had been only too pleased that someone wanted to rent, and had given you fantastic rates, but you didn’t like it just because of that. As you drew up outside it on the gravel and opened the car door, a rush of chilly, country air washed over you and you hummed in pleasure as it hit your lungs. It felt like the first true breath you’d taken in months. 

Outside the cabin stretched a wide meadow of long grasses which whispered and danced in the light breezes that coiled around the hilltop cabin. The subtly shifting air caressed your neck as you heaved your bags out of the back of the car and made your way to the front door. 

In the centre of the meadow stood a lonely looking cherry tree, just beginning to flower. A soft snort of amusement escaped your nose when you spotted it, the baby pink blossoms tentatively opening up, as though thinking it might still be just a bit too chilly yet. “Looks like I’ll get my very own little festival right here,” you muttered to yourself as you fished out the key from the little safe and opened up. 

It was gorgeous inside too, with hand-crafted rugs and soft leather furniture, old rocking chairs and the odd antler decoration too. It was a modern build, however, so there were also massive picture windows and lots of light. You felt rejuvenated just standing there. 

After unpacking, you decided to go for a walk. A long track stretched away from the cabin, through the meadow and up into the shoulders of the mountains which bristled with pines on one side and with deciduous oaks on the other side of the valley. A small waterfall could be heard roaring away, and the path of the river cut through the mountain that kept watch over the cabin and the land around like a small scar on its craggy old face. 

You stood a while on the top step of the cabin after lacing your sturdy boots and just listened. Birdsong was joined by the susurrating of the meadow grasses and the deeper, more distant sighing of the wind in the pine needles. You decided to head up towards those pines, taking what looked like a deer track through the meadow, right beneath the cherry tree. 

As you passed it, you had the oddest sensation that the bark of the cherry tree was shifting somehow. It was a bizarre, trippy effect that had you blinking and wondering if you’d eaten something funny or drunk enough water, but after staring at it for a few seconds, you saw that everything in fact looked normal. 

“Weird,” you murmured. For an instant, the tree had seemed to have had the shape of a woman, and even now if you looked at it hard enough you could convince yourself of the curves of a female body. Shaking yourself out of it, you continued on your walk, not returning to the cabin until nearly sunset.

The snow they’d been forecasting began that evening, and you awoke the next day to a gentle, silent world of marzipan snow, softening the contours of the landscape into fairy tale perfection. It was only three inches thick, and a light dusting was still falling as you ate breakfast in front of the largest picture window, snuggled up under a blanket with your knees tucked up beneath you, a cup of tea on the table beside you, and a small log fire burning already in the stove. You smiled to yourself at the sacred peace of the place. 

The bowl of cereal balanced in one hand nearly hit the floor when you jerked in surprise at what you suddenly began seeing out of the window. What looked like a shimmering cloud of pale pink sakura blossoms was shifting like a murmuration of starlings outside in the meadow. The nebulous form rippled and flexed, composed of a thousand tiny petals, before assuming the shape of a woman. The wind gusted, disturbing the arrangement and sending the petals swirling into the sky before they reconstituted themselves and the female form darted back towards the tree. 

“What the hell?” you whispered, bowl forgotten in your hand. “What the actual hell?”

You blinked a couple of times, and it was suddenly as though you’d never seen anything out of the ordinary whatsoever. There was not a mark to be seen in the snow, and all the blossoms were exactly where they should have been: on the tree. 

“I’m going nuts…” you said, remembering your cereal and trying to resume eating, but it had become a little difficult to chew and swallow now. 

Your second hike took you much further than the first, perhaps in an attempt to escape the strange prickling on the back of your neck. You’d packed lunch and enough water, and set off in a very light snowfall, heading into the oak trees on the lower side of the cabin, and away from the lone cherry tree in the meadow. The river at the bottom of the valley was fordable over a set of gorgeous stepping stones, and as you vanished into the budding leaves of the oaks, you stifled a giggle, unable to believe it had taken you so long to get out of the city (and somewhat out of your funk) to enjoy this. 

And you did enjoy it, right up until you were halfway across the field on the far side of the oak forest, and the weather closed in, and in minutes you couldn’t see a yard in front of your boots. 

“Well, shit,” you snarled, trying not to turn around like a lonely little lamb and get utterly lost. Though not exactly far from the cabin, you knew you could end up walking for days out here if you went wrong now. 

Something shifted in the whiteout ahead. 

“Hello?” you called. There were no bears or predators in these parts, and if there was a chance you were not the only person out here, it had to be a good idea to stick together. 

The figure drew nearer and began to solidify in the whipping snowflakes, darkening until you could see a solid outline. They were slender and relatively short, and as they called out to you in response, their alto voice sounded like spring rain on a warm evening. 

“I found you!” she said, sounding equal parts relieved and thrilled. 

“You… ‘found’ me?” you called back. “I didn’t know anyone was looking for me.”

She continued to approach, and a couple of yards away, she drew to a halt. “I was worried!” she said. “I saw you heading out in all this weather, and I was afraid something would happen to you!”

“Who are you?” you almost growled. 

“My name is Cera,” she said. “I… I live… nearby. May I come closer? I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I can take you back to the cabin if you’re lost…”

“Uh… ok?” you said. 

She laughed softly, a sound like tinkling rainwater, and you felt your eyebrows sail upwards as she closed the distance between you. 

She was like nothing you’d ever seen. 

First of all, her body was bare of clothes. She was completely stark naked, but her skin was not that of a human. It was mottled green and brown, and over her shoulders, down over her hips, and over the curve of her strong, lean shoulders, she seemed to have bark-like patches with little marks like horizontal tiger stripes. Her hair was a cascade of tangled pink blossoms with a crown of snow gathering on top. In fact, the closer she got, the more you could see that very little of her appeared to be human at all, save for the shape of her slim, lithe figure. She had small breasts, delicately curving and with tight, dusky pink nipples, budded against the cold. She was also barefoot in the snow. 

“What the…?” you hissed, taking an involuntary step backwards. “What are you?”

“I am a dryad,” she said. “I mean you no harm, I swear it.” She sank to one knee in the snow before you and bowed her head, letting that curtain of pink hair fall forward over her shoulders. “Let me guide you home, wanderer.”

“Wanderer?” Her language was somewhat archaic, but there was something about her that made you want to trust her. 

She rose gracefully, like a sapling bending to a strong breeze, and walked straight past you. “This way,” she murmured, and you caught the unmistakable scent of cherry blossoms. 

You followed her, thinking that that was the direction you’d have taken if you’d had to make the decision alone, and after a mile or so of walking, stunned, in her silent wake, you began to recognise the oaks up ahead. You stared at the way her hips swayed as she walked, barely making any impression in the deepening snow, the way her supple spine moved, and on the fact that she had two, slightly darker dimples in the small of her back that made you ache to touch in a way you’d not felt in a long while. Fuck. You were far gone, and she wasn’t even human. 

Speaking of… “Wait,” you asked as she stepped into the trees. “Wait, hang on a minute. What the hell is a dryad?”

She chimed her musical laugh again and half turned on the balls of her feet as though it were the step of a courtly dance. “A dryad is a spirit of the trees,” she said. “I… My sisters are all preparing for the festival in the city, but my tree is lonely. I prefer it out here though… most of the time.”

“Your tree?” and you looked at the cherry blossoms in her hair and the markings on the bark-like skin around her shoulders and hips, and the penny dropped. “Wait, you mean the cherry tree in the meadow? I wasn’t seeing things before…”

She nodded and smiled. “There are many spirits in these parts,” she said. “Sombre pine, sturdy oak, enchanted rowan, lively hazel, even little fern and gentle moss… Depending on where you are, you can always find someone.” You noticed for the first time as she turned to face you again that her green eyes were ringed with a bright, vibrant pink, and you couldn’t help but exhale in wonder at the sight of her, standing in the shelter of a colossal oak tree. She reached a delicate hand out for the nearest trunk and caressed it with her fingertips. 

The breeze rustled as though the woods themselves were exhaling in pleasure at her touch, and she smiled. “Brother oak,” she intoned. “Will you come forth and show yourself to this human?”

The oak tree rippled, much like you’d seen the trunk of the cherry tree warping while simultaneously remaining unchanged, and out of the bark stepped a second figure, eight feet tall, muscled and covered in tough-looking bark, with a beard of moss, already laughing. He slipped his hands around the cherry blossom dryad’s waist and hoisted her aloft, chuckling fondly. “Little sister,” he laughed, twirling her around. “What’s all this? What do you wake me for while snow still dusts the leaves of my head?”

She threw back her head and giggled like a small child, her peal of laughter ringing like bluebells in a spring copse. “I found a friend,” she said. “Look!”

The oak dryad froze and then turned to see you standing there, stunned as though someone had let off an air-horn in your face. 

“Well!” he laughed, honey-brown eyes crinkling in the corners. He set Cera down and peered more closely at you. “Well, well, well… A human. I thought I felt someone pass by my roots earlier. Was it you, little one?”

“Uhhh….?” was all you could formulate in response, which made them both laugh. 

The oak dryad leaned down and brushed a strand of your damp hair out of your eyes with a delicate, twig-like finger. “It’s alright,” he said. “Cera will look after you.”

“Sure,” you croaked. 

And then Cera grabbed your hand in her strong, gentle fingers and tugged you, almost dancing, through the woods. “Come on,” she said. “You’ll freeze to death out here.”

“I’m not the one frolicking about with no clothes on!” you scoffed, which made the oak dryad roar with a creaking laughter like a forest in a high gale. 

“I like her!” he guffawed. “Where can I find one for myself, Cera? Do you have any more humans tucked away wherever this one comes from?”

Cera wheeled back and suddenly you found her arms caressing your face as she wrapped them around your head and pressed you close to her. It was an odd position, but she was unfathomably warm despite her state of undress, and as you found your nose against her leathery skin, just in front of her elegantly-tapered ear, you realised she had the most incredible scent. It was like blossoms, of course it was, but there was something else there too, intangible as ozone, and intoxicating as those few flakes of late snow landing on your eyelashes. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to cling to her and never let her go. 

“Find your own, Queric,” she hissed, bristling like an angry pine martin, which only made him laugh more. 

“Very well,” he rumbled before yawning cavernously. “Get home safely you two. I… I am drowsy still. My tree slumbers yet, and I must return. We do not all wake so early as you, Cera.”

She giggled and slid her hands down your shoulders to your waist, eliciting a deep moan from you which you bit back instantly. 

Her pink-tinged irises fixed instantly upon your face, and they seemed to be glowing more vibrantly in the muted light between the trees while the snow fell silently beyond the borders of the forest. Her fingers rested on your hips and she drummed them lightly against your hipbones. Your breathing hitched and she smiled. “Come,” she said, a new note in her voice. It had the edge like an impending thunderstorm, and you couldn’t have resisted it, even if you’d wanted to. 

She led you back by the hand through now-familiar ground, until the cabin came into sight up ahead, never letting you trip or stumble as she went, but rarely looking back at you either. When she did, it was with a strange kind of light in her eyes, and she glanced away again soon afterwards.  

The meadow ahead was blanketed with fresh snow, six or seven inches deep now and beginning to drift against the side of the house. “There,” she said, seeming to shrink somehow, becoming smaller and frailer the closer she brought you up to the house, until her fingers felt brittle and fragile as tinder in your hand. 

Outside the cabin you stood for a moment, your un-gloved hand still in hers. “You’re incredible,” you breathed, and she laughed, her cheeks flushing a pretty pink with self-consciousness. “I mean it,” you insisted. “Would you like to come inside? It’s still snowing, and you must be cold…”

Her beautiful eyes flew open and she went rigid, and for a moment you wondered if you’d somehow offended her, but then she smiled and it was like dawn itself. “I think I would like that,” she said in her earthy alto voice. “Very much.”

“Come on then,” you grinned. It was still amazing to behold someone like her, but you couldn’t bare to let her slip away. 

You did wonder if she’d object to you lighting a fire, and when you asked, she winced, but then giggled. “The wood is long-harvested,” she said. “If it warms you and gives you shelter and comfort, I have no objection.” 

“Ok,” you replied. “Just… I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“That much is obvious,” she trilled, looking around her and starting to take in the sight of the interior for the first time.

You watched her for a moment after you’d taken your boots and coat off and slung your snow-dusted pack down into a corner. It was like seeing a child in a huge museum for the first time, not knowing where to look first. After a while, you spoke up and shattered the spell. “You’ve never been indoors before, I assume?”

She shook her head. “Your kind makes all these things,” she said, her hand resting briefly on a carved, wooden mirror frame. “Humans can be so crude, and yet so creative.”

“Thanks, I think,” you said. “This isn’t my home though. I’m just staying here for the week to get away from the chaos of the festival.”

“The cherry blossom festival?” she asked, turning back to look at you. 

“Yeah,” you called over your shoulder as you crossed the room and began loading kindling and logs into the wood burner. 

“You… You don’t like the blossoms?” she asked, sounding hurt. 

“No!” you countered, spinning awkwardly on one knee to look at her, the door of the stove open and a log in your hand. “No, it’s not that at all. I love the blossoms. I just don’t like the crush of people who all come to take selfies in front of them and never actually even look at the trees at all, except once they’ve gone home and are looking at it on Instagram or something. It feels… wrong… sacrilegious almost.” You flushed as you finished, feeling a self-consciousness of your own prickle up your neck from your chest. You busied yourself by finishing laying the fire and lighting it. The door of the stove closed with a squeak and you stood and turned to find that she had fixed you with an intense stare. 

It felt like all the seasons bearing down on you at once, and then she stepped silently towards you, her bare feet soundless on the polished wooden boards beneath her toes. “You are extraordinary,” she whispered, bringing her hand to cup your cheek. 

Your heartbeat created a resonant clangour in your ears, so loud you were sure she could hear it too. Her touch was warm and sweet, like sunlight on dry river rocks. The blossoms in her hair which had closed up in shyness or sadness only a moment before now began to open again like a timelapse before your eyes. 

That scent, like intangible nectar, began to swirl around you once more and you watched as her soft, pale lips parted and she leaned in close. The indescribable rush when someone is about to kiss you thrummed through your whole body before those lips brushed against yours and you moaned at the contact. It had been a while since you’d kissed another woman, and it felt wonderful and new in all the right ways. Elation and excitement surged through your chest, threatening to drive your heart out through your ribs. She kissed you and your eyes rolled closed as her other hand tangled in your hair. 

She pressed her body against yours, and her hips rolled and bucked against you, leaving you breathless and wanting more as you explored the strange and yet familiar contours of her body in return.

Fingertips teased up under your top and she had you stripping down for her in a heartbeat. She worshipped your body for a moment as you stood there and then she backed you onto the rug in front of the fire. She eased herself down first and tugged you down with her so that you landed astride her, one thigh on either side of her hips. Your clit was aching for attention already and she smiled, running her hard, almost leathery palms up your bare thighs. The sensation made you tilt your head back and moan in pleasure and she traced her thumbs in symmetrical arches up over the junction of your thigh and hip bone. 

“Cera,” you rasped, falling forward as your spine bowed. 

“Yes?”

“This isn’t real, is it?” you whispered. “It can’t be.”

She laughed again, though not unkindly, and sat upright, pitching you slightly backwards so that you had to brace yourself with your legs to stop yourself from falling. She grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you again. Her tongue flicked out and tasted your lips, and then she moaned and pressed further into you, seeking out as much of you as you would allow her. One hand went to the curve of your ass and she kneaded the muscle there, groaning. 

“So soft,” she murmured breathlessly, eyelids fluttering closed. “You’re so soft and precious.” 

You smiled, grinding your hips in a single roll against hers and she whined and shuddered, falling gracelessly back and moving her hand between her legs. You watched, fascinated, as she began to toy with herself, her stomach twitching and tensing spasmodically, her spine arching and relaxing like a bow being tested, her chin jutting up to the roof beams and back again. 

“Stop,” you whispered, letting your fingertips trace a circle on the inside of her wrist. “Stop and let me…”

You parted her legs with reverence and shifted down so that your head came to rest between her strong, slim thighs. There were rougher patches of her bark-like skin beneath your palms as you lowered your face towards her. You could smell and see her arousal and you lapped the very tip of your tongue cautiously against her. Her sex was the ripe pink of a cherry blossom, with delicate lips and folds, and a large, deeply flushed, swollen clit. The instant your tongue caressed that clit, she gasped and bucked her hips wildly upwards. “Easy,” you laughed, pressing her back down again. “You like that?”

“Yes!” she cried. There were cherry blossoms on the carpet now, as if they’d fallen from nowhere in a great blanket, and they were shifting slightly as though in a draught. 

“You’re incredible,” you murmured before getting to work again. You pressed your tongue flat over her and tasted the unbelievable sweetness of her sex and she gasped and tried to buck once more. 

Your tongue laved in patient strokes over her, around her inner lips, and underneath her clit until her syrupy wetness spilled out of her, down her body, and you had trouble trying to keep her from getting the rug beneath her messy. You knew she was close when all the blossoms rose off the rug and began to swirl around you in an increasing tornado. She gasped and moaned, mewled and bucked, until finally she came in a great wave, her thighs clenching around your head, your lips pressed against her as you drank her down. Her sex pulsed and you sucked gently as she came and came, easing her through it without letting her down too soon. 

You looked up eventually, pulling away from her, though strands of her wetness still hung between your lips and her body, and you saw that all the cherry blossoms hung suspended in the air as though caught in resin, frozen in time.

Eventually she opened her eyes and they all drifted slowly back to the ground. “Magic?” you breathed.

She nodded. “I lost control there…” she laughed weakly, and they fell to the floor, vanishing the instant they touched the boards. Cera tugged you down so that you toppled and landed beside her on the rug, and she sat up on one elbow and trailed her hands down your body. It was as though she’d never felt human skin before: she spent so long mapping the curves and lines of your body that you were actually shaking with anticipation by the time she slid her fingers down between your legs and curled them curiously upwards, much as you had done with your tongue over her. 

You moaned and squirmed your hips, trying to get her to focus her touch, and she did. She kissed your lips, your collarbones, your breasts, your nipples, your stomach, all the while she played with you. Her fingers found the exact spots that lit you up and had your vision going white until she slid two fingers into you and crooked them, searching for that little place that made you jerk and grunt with pleasure. She circled her thumb around your clit too, and you began to lose track of where your body ended and hers began. 

Euphoria was building in your veins as she found the right spot and within a few carefully placed and timed strokes, she had you coming so hard you almost sat up. Your walls gripped her fingers as you came and she held you close to her so that all you could smell was the mossy sweetness of her skin and all you could feel was her fingers filling you with her thumb a constant pressure on your clit too. 

Still twitching, you allowed her to ease you back down onto the rug, the warmth of the fire seeming to dim next to the warmth in your own body. 

“I want to do that to you again,” she said, kissing your collarbones and making you pulse and clench around her fingers again. 

Unable to form a response, you laughed hoarsely. It was soon cut off as she withdrew and circled your swollen clit with her slick fingers. She only did it once, but the way she did it was enough to keep you from toppling off the edge of your lust into something sleepier. 

After a few minutes she did it again, and when she found no resistance, she began all over again. 

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