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lust444men · 2 months

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hiiiii i love your blog so much😭😭😭💕💕💕 I absolutely love this mechanic of sending requests🤭🤭

🌶 ex!hobie like an enemies to lover to enemies to lovers again omg does that make sense?😭

anyways have a gorgeous day/night <33 love u!💋

a/n finally starting this. I hope I do it justice for you, doll! I tried my best. I luv this idea sm! I fr and lowk did the plot of 10 things I hate ab you...warnings: praise, small degrading? mocking, p n v, slightly cunty hobie ngl, fem!reader, manhandling, slight dumbification? tad bit angsty, language obvi, angry/make-up sex

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you and hobie had a very difficult relationship. you hated each other all through secondary school, despised each other when you chose the same college, but by second year, you guys were dating. And in love. Or, so you thought. You had been dating each other for a little over eight months, and it was great. until you overheard his mates talking amongst themselves in the halls a few weeks ago.

"ya' owe Spike £50! he made 'er fall in love."

"But i' lasted more than a month! Tha' means I get £70." and other chatter, but by then your ears were ringing so loud you couldn't hear them.

you've never felt your heart drop deeper than that. since then, you had been avoiding Hobie like the damn plague. Every text, call, ignoring him in the halls, lessons. He didn't exist to you no more. you should've known, really. it was hobie. he didn't care about others' feelings. you thought he was in love with you...even though he never said those words, you thought the way he looked at you..spoke to you..touched you, held all his feelings. Guess you were fucking wrong.

you were walking home from college, your heart still heavy weeks later. you felt betrayed. but who were you to think Hobie could be a genuine, nice, committed person?

he's the same guy who threw a dictionary at your head in year 10.

you got dragged out your thoughts by someone following behind you, and you immediately recognised the thumping boots on the pavement.

"Oi! Wai' up." Hobie barked, his lanky stature making him next to you in no time. "The fuck is going on wit' you? Ya've been ignoring me fo' weeks!" He said, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"You noticed? Colour me surprised." You scoffed, not even looking at him, despite feeling his eyes bore into you. his face scrunched, eyes narrowing.

"A'ight, the fuck 'as gotten you into such a foul mood?" He asked curtly. You ignored him, letting out an incredulous huff. He really doesn't know what he did? What a dick.

You walked up the steps of your house, hearing him quickly follow you as you unlocked the door. Nobody was home, that'd be good if you get into a screaming match with hobie. You left the door open for him, knowing he'd just let himself in either way.

"Ya gonna fuckin' speak to me, or what?" He scoffed, slamming the door shut with his foot before approaching you. You couldn't help yourself.

"How much money did you get?" you spun round, throwing your bag to the armchair, along with your keys as you stared at him. You saw his face twitch, anger leaving, confusion and...worry replacing it.

"Wha'? What're you talkin' 'bout?" He asked, brows pinching together. "How much money did you get when you bet that you could get me to date you?" You reiterated, extending it so his simple brain could click. You watch his face fall, and it almost made you laugh at his dumbfounded face.

"W-wait — baby, it's not wha' you think." He panicked, reaching out for you and winced when you slapped his hands away.

"Oh, fuck off with that. I don't wanna hear it. I was just a bet to you, all this time? Everything we ever did, every kiss, every touch, every fuck, every date — a lie." You rambled, your emotions getting the better of you, eyes filling with tears as you stared at him, gesturing wildly.

"Shh shh, ay — calm down -"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Calm down then." You glared at him. "You're a fucking joke. I wish we never dated. It was all a fucking bet to you! I was just some extra cash!" You yelled.

"Not anymore." His voice raised above yours, startling you. He never shouts at you — not really. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? Not anymore?" You hissed, your brows furrowing together as your nose scrunched. "Just stop fuckin' talking! You're making no sense, Hobart, you're literally so fuckin' st—" you got rudely cut off by his lips smashing against yours, his hands on your cheeks.

You tried your hardest not to melt into him, the two sides of your head wrestling. You haven't felt his kisses in weeks, you missed them. but on the other hand, it's probably fake. that gave you enough courage to put your hands flat against his chest and shove him away, shaking your head as you wiped your lips, as if you were getting rid of his kiss.

"No, no! You don't get to kiss me and —..and think everything's okay! It's not! You're a selfish, self centered, rude, arrogant cunt. These last eight months were a waste of my time. I could've been fucking alot hotter in this time." Your words flew out your mouth before you even had time to truly consider them, but honestly? he deserved that. you watched him stare at you, his eyes darkening but his breathing surprisingly calm.

He moved towards you, you stepped back, he stepped forward, until your back hit the wall. his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to him as you let out a quiet grunt.

"Tha' so? Jus' a big ol' waste of time for ya?" He asked lowly, tilting his head at you as his stature blocked out anything else.

"Was just a bet to you," you shrugged. "so, why you throwin' a fit?" you watch him run his tongue along the inside of his cheek, glancing off briefly before his eyes dragged back to you.

"Lemme tell you sum, doll. You're real fuckin' stupid." his lips crashed back against yours in an aggressive, but needy kiss. His hand on your jaw drifted through your hair to the back of your head, forcing you close to him. you kiss back absentmindedly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, balling his shirt in your hand and yanking him flush against you, making him groan.

His free hand trailed down, fumbling with your jean button and pulling them down to your mid thigh before he pulled away from the kiss. He gripped your hair, not tightly, but enough to maneuver you to the sofa, bending you over the arm rest. you gasp, your hands bracing yourself and attempting to push yourself off the armrest, only to be pushed back down by Hobie's large, calloused hand between your shoulder blades.

"Stay down. Lemme do my shit." He huffed, sounding fed up as he practically ripped off your panties. you shivered at the cool air, feeling his hands pull down the rest of your jeans, spreading your legs.

"Ya' could've fucked hotter, y'say? Can hotter make you cum fifteen times in one night?" He scoffed, grabbing a handful of your ass, making you huff.

"Oh, fuck off with that already. It happened one time!" you tilted your head back at him, watching him fumble with his belt, dipping his hand into his briefs.

"Don' look at me like tha'. Might jus' hit tha' score again." his breath hitched as he swiped his tip through your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. Three weeks and no sex, and definitely not in the mood to touch yourself, it's safe to say you're pretty pent up.

"Please," you whisper, feeling his tip repeatedly hit your clit, making you jolt or twitch each time.

"Please, wha'? Please forgive me for bein' a miscommunicating bitch? Please forgive me for not talking to you? Please fuck me?" He mocked, watching as you glare at him and grind your teeth.

"The last one." You hissed. You had no reason to apologise! who the fuck did he think he is?

"Ah, righ'. The impor'an' one." He lined himself up with your entrance, tucking his pierced bottom lip in his teeth, sinking into you with a throaty groan from himself and a whimper from you.

"Fuck. I fuckin' missed you. You n this pussy s'bad." He drawled, already pussy drunk. You clawed at the sofa, feeling his hand force your back to arch as he set a steady pace, watching him disappear inside you, the view hypnotising.

"Oh, fuck. Hobie — Hobie!" you squealed, hands fumbling to grip onto something - settling on a nearby cushion. The armrest of the sofa was right at your lower abdomen, pushing on the bulge of him, heightening the pleasure. He speeds up, a bruising grip on your hips, huffy growls spilling his mouth as he watched how your ass jiggled everytime his hips snapped against yours.

"Yeahh, tha's wha' I thought. Ya' jus' needed to get dumb on my dick again, didncha?" He mockingly cooed, slapping your ass.

"Sh-shut the fuck up n jus' fuck me." You scoffed, leaning back to hold his arm, purposefully digging your nails into his forearm alot harder than needed. He grabbed your arm, pinning it to your back.

"Oh? Still talkin' tha' talk, eh?" he smirked, making his strokes slower but harder and deeper, watching how your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. he grinned.

"oh shiit. feels s'good - fuck." you whined, burying your face into the sofa. he hummed, running his hands over your waist.

"Yeah, I know. I fuck ya' dumb, don' I?" He rhetorically asked, not expecting much of an answer as his thrusts finally sped back up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making your legs shake. "Hobie - shit. can I come? please?" You whined, pushing your hips to meet his with a loud gasp. Fuck, your head was spinning. You swear you could see white spots in your closed eyes.

"C'mon. Be a good girl, y'got it. Tha'sss it. Fuck, yeah, cum all over this dick, sweetheart." He coaxed you through your well pent up orgasm, your loud moans bouncing off the walls.

"Fuck, look at her. Always coverin' me in her mess." He hummed, pulling out of you and watching your release drip down. He softly grabbed you, sliding you up the sofa so you were now sat on his lap, too dazed to even feel his still hard cock resting just below your wet, throbbing cunt. You were panting, unfocused until you felt his finger tap your cheek.

"Cmon. I gotta talk t'ya'." He murmured, his other hand rubbing your back. "M'listening." He sucked in a harsh breath.

"Yes, you started as a bet," He began, feeling your body tense. "But, but. You're not anymore. It was selfish, yes, i know. And I regre' i' everyday, n' 'specially not tellin' you 'bout it. I fell in love with you. I am in love with you. Which is why 'it went on for so long'. It got real. m' infatuated wit' ya, my luv." He explained, his perfect face scrunched up as he thought carefully. you could cry. he just fucked your brains out, now he's giving you a love confession.

"I love you, sweetheart." He added in a soft whisper, glancing down at you. You guys hadn't said i love you yet. But he just did. After fucking your brains out. Romantic. You leant up, sniffling softly as you placed a quick kiss to his lips."You promise?"

"I pinky fuckin' swear it. cross my heart, hope to die." He kissed you lovingly, his hand on your cheek as he did so, the other hand trailing up your thigh, his thumb just brushing over your sensitive clit. you broke the kiss, gasping softly.

"what're you doin'?" you asked, feeling him rub small circles onto your clit, making your hands grip his shoulders.

"we got fourteen more ta go, baby."

#christi's posts #‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆lust444men #christi's list #hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #hobie brown my love #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #astv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miles #miles morales

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meowmeowhissss · 3 months

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She is perfection and I am going crazy right now

#wlw post #sapphic #gwendoline christie #gwendolineuniverse #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #in fabric #jan stevens #flux gourmet #top of the lake #miranda hilmarson #star wars #captain phasma #larissa weems #wednesday

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thermodynamic-comedian · 1 year

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actually i love it when the characters are all lying. i love it when they all have secrets and none of them trust each other. i love being given clues that solve puzzles i haven't even been presented with yet. i also love it when i get chills watching a scene without even knowing what it means, and when i do know what it means, i get even more chills. i love theorizing and thinking and solving and coming up with possibilities of where a story might be going. i love it and i will do it for free, for fun, for no real reason.

this is a mystery appreciation post!! if you appreciate mysteries and secrets and stories that slowly unravel before you, please interact!!!

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potchio · 4 months

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i came across this picture of gwen while scrolling through pinterest and i .

#HANDS ???#RING ???#having so many thoughts rn #LOFOFODOODKDKDKKDKDJDJDKDKDKF #her eyes too #that look #OH EM GEE #hi gwen once cchance plsz #🙏🙏#this screams gwen/larissa sent you an update of what she's doing and things just escalates from there !!!#////nahwn2ikwekdlslss #i 💗 older women #i literally logged in here just to post about THIS picture #gwendoline christie #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems

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franouo · 15 days

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Caught

❍﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏❍

Probably the shittyest "comic" you'll ever gona see, this is not my best work lol, but it's ok i didn't think much doing it so, a wanted to finish the idea fast, ALSO i realised this is the first time i draw Wednesday and Enid wao, also sorry if the dialogue is off character (and if the grammar is wrong sorry) it's 4am here and i'm not thinking clearly, hope u like it either way lmao, enjoy Brierissa enjoyers 🖤🫵

#gwendoline christie #larissa weems #gwendolineuniverse #brienne of tarth #lgbtq #larissa weems x reader #ser brienne #larissa weems fanart #larissa x y/n #briennexlarissa #my art #wlw post #gwendoline is mommy

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dianneking · 1 month

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The Affair - Chapter 1 (Larissa/Reader)

Hiya! As part of my weekly writing challenge, I wrote this chapter over two writing sessions, and I chose not to wait for the fic to be finished before posting. It'll probably be a couple of chapters all together.

Pairing: Larissa Weems/You Rating: Mature

Tags: Morally Ambiguous Character, Swearing, Boss/Employee Relationship, Infidelity, Second-person POV, Teacher Reader.

Link to AO3 in the title

The Affair - Chapter 1

Waiting in the snow for a married woman , you thought, moodily pulling your scarf up to cover your freezing nose as yet another car passed, how the fuck did my life come to this?

You had never been one for thrills in life. If anything, you had been pretty boring: you’d always liked English class at school, always got straight As, never stepped a foot out of line. You never felt the need to, nor the appeal of being rebellious. You’d gone on to get a bachelor’s degree and teacher’s certification, and then you’d gone on to teach English in a string of small town schools.

There was only one aspect out of the ordinary in your life up until now; you could never settle down in one place.. You felt a restlessness, a pull towards something you still hadn’t found, and after a couple of years in a place, it inevitably built up until it was too strong to resist. And so you packed your bags, applied for a job somewhere else, and started anew.

You didn’t think Jericho would be much different. Small town, 5 thousand inhabitants, only spots of interest a tacky historical reconstruction site and a school full of outcasts. The same one you had applied to. Nothing much to offer. You’d give it a year or two at most.

You didn’t really care about the fact that you were teaching outcasts. They might drink blood or howl at the moon or whatever in their spare time, but they were teenagers that had to learn to write a proper essay just like anyone else. You prided yourself in your work ethic and told that to the board when they interviewed you. Apparently they appreciated that. Or there was nobody else who had applied. There had been some accidents during the last school year, apparently. The board had repeated several times that it had been a one-off and it had been taken care of definitively.They had all seemed very defensive about the topic.

Once again, you shrugged it off. You had no time to waste on rumors and things of the past. The school had its quirks, sure, but all schools had, each in their own way. You settled in your quarters on the school grounds, and started reviewing your lesson plans taking into account the notes left by the previous teacher. You settled in for your usual routine of lessons, tests, marking that you were familiar with by now.

And then she barged into your life, throwing routine and predictability to the wind.

Even with your aversion to gossip, you’d heard about her. Larissa Weems, the best principal Nevermore had ever had, mysteriously injured in the line of work, supposedly trying to protect the school, and hospitalized for months after that. When talking about her, voices dropped to a whisper out of respect - or fear, you hadn’t been able to ascertain that.

The day she had come back, you’d have thought royalty was about to visit the school, with the amount of fretting, of preparations, of nervous energy filling the halls and rooms. You’d had to let your classes work on assignments because they had been unable to listen to one word of what you were explaining. You had rolled your eyes in the privacy of your room. Seriously, you’d seen plenty of disruptive principals in your years of teaching, but one who could be so distracting even before she had set foot back in school? That was a first.

You felt obliged to show up as well to the welcoming committee. The whole staff was there, as well as the student body. Some had even prepared signs, and there was a white banner draped along the balcony on which was written, in red paint, a very wonky Welcome back Princ. Weems .

It was cute that she was so beloved by her school, you thought, but you were also thinking of how to recover the day of missed lessons, and how to optimize the next days’ so as to go back on track. You tried not to be too miffed about it.

All of the thoughts of lesson plans and all of the lingering irritation at them being disrupted fled your brain at the sight of the first foot stepping out of the car. Shiny, varnished black shoes, showing off a milky ankle, and a shapely calf that look longer than any you’d seen (not that you made a point of looking at women’s legs all the time, but sometimes your eyes did wander…)

The skin on show was sadly cut off below the knee by the modest hemline of a woolen dress and it was at that point that Nevermore’s principal exited the car in all of her towering beauty, and your mind went completely blank, cause in all of their gossip everyone in Nevermore had forgotten to mention a small, key detail about the principal.

She was stunning.

The most beautiful woman you’d ever seen was standing before you, waving and smiling regally, as the whole school cheered. You almost didn’t notice all the jubilant ruckus, your eyes too busy raking all over her figure, as if trying to commit every single detail to memory. Her slender, elegant hands, wrapped in leather gloves. The perfectly-tailored coat, in the same fabric and color as the dress. The sparkle of her gold jewelry in the pale winter sun. The perfect proportion of her face, the way the bright red lipstick brought attention to her smile.

Her light eyes were roaming all over the crowd, as if taking stock of known faces and new entries. Finally her gaze fixed on you, and you could see a spark of amusement flicker on her face at seeing you.

You belatedly realized that you had been gaping at her like a fish out of water.

The day after you had still been beating yourself up about the humiliation at being caught slack-jawed staring at your boss when she visited you in your classroom after you were done with the day’s lessons.

She rapped against the doorframe, but strode in before you could say anything. You scrambled to your feet, awkwardly, while she covered the distance from the door to your desk in a couple of long steps. She was wearing another dress today, a tartan dress with a belt that cinched her waist, underlying the shape of her hips and chest while still being completely work-appropriate.

“So you’re the new teacher they have hired to replace poor Collins.” It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I’m Larissa Weems. Usually, I have the final word on new hires. The board does a wonderful job but sometimes they lack a certain sort of practicality in their assessment of candidates, as it happened with the last hire. I wasn’t convinced by her spiel, but the board insisted and…well. I should have trusted my gut instinct.” Her eyes grew distant for a second, before focusing back on you with a hard gaze. You could see the speckles of lighter and darker blue mixing in her irises, and the perfectly applied make-up that highlighted their natural beauty. You tried to shake yourself out of her charm. She could be trying to fire you, and you were busy ogling her! That’s not the kind of person you were! You cleared your voice, trying to think up something to say to help your case.

“I…”

“I know you have been hired already, and I am sure you are a perfect fit for the role. I’d just like to have a little chat together, nothing too formal, just getting to know each other a little bit better.” She smiled as she said that, and while you were sure it was supposed to be a polite smile, you couldn’t help the shiver that went down your spine at that.

She looks like a predator closing in on prey , your mind unhelpfully suggested.

You swallowed, suddenly conscious of your sweaty palms and increasing heart rate.

“O-of course, ma'am." was all you could meekily say.

"Perfect." she purred. "Meet me at seven sharp at the Lilac Lounge. I'll have a private booth reserved."

To be continued...

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#dianneking writes #dianneking fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems fanfiction #gwendoline christie #gwendoline christie fanfiction #dragonmist fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #larissa weems/reader #larissa weems x reader

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jaimebrienne-art · 7 days

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A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms ~ Season 8 Episode 2

Episode Air date: Sunday, April 21, 2019

Art by lennie.illustration

#brienne of tarth #game of thrones #gwendoline christie #knighting #season 8 #posts by jba #jaime lannister #braime #jaime x brienne

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queerfanfiction · 9 months

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Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years.

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples.

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!