#Larissa weems

[astralights24]

god, i love women.

[creepy-kooky-mysterious-spooky]

@psychic-refugee @hislittleraincloud

I think it’s kind of interesting how this flashback implies that before her scorpion was killed, Wednesday had the personality she was depicted with before the 90s.

[iialethi]

[gilfaddict]

Gwen and the height difference between her and her co-stars™ is my favorite genre

[rachelsfav-queer]

Gomez: *standing on a table in the quad* I SHALL DEFEND MY DEAREST MORTICIA’S HONOR TILL MY VERY LAST BREATH AND EVEN BEYOND IT! YOU FOOLS WILL RUE THE DAY YOU EVER THOUGHT TO HARM MI ESPINA DE ROSA MORTAL!!

Morticia: *heart eyes* By the Gods, I love him! He is such a romantic! I will marry him by the end of the day!

Larissa: Jesus fucking Christ, I need alcohol right now.

*Approx. Three Decades Later*

Enid: *standing on a table in the quad* ANY OF YOU MOTHERFUCKERS WANNA PUT HANDS ON THAT SEXY PIECE OF GOTH ASS IS GONNA LEARN WHAT 300 POUNDS OF WEREWOLF TEARING YOU IN HALF FEELS LIKE!! TRY ME YOU DUMB BITCHES! TRY MEEEE!!!!

Wednesday: *heart eyes* Oh my Gods, I have never seen such a romantic gesture in my life. I must go to acquire marriage documents this instant, but I cannot take my eyes off such a wonderful sight!

Bianca: That’s it. I’m calling Yoko, I need some hard fucking liquor to deal with you idiots. Holy fucking shit.

[milfsloverblog]

Hello author ! I have a request for Larrisa. Reader is a prostitute and Larissa goes to her to forget Morticia. May I ask for shifted cock ? Thank you keep up the good work 🥳

Unraveled Illusions (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x prostitute!reader

A/N: Slowly going through my request list. I loved this idea, wrote this tonight instead of preparing my lessons for next week (work can wait). I hope you’ll enjoy what I did with your request!!

tw: shapeshifted cock

You thought when your latest client picked you, it was for your body. After all, that's what most people are paying for. They weren’t looking for conversation or connection—just the fantasy of intimacy.

Over the years, you’d learned to read them: the ones who worshipped breasts, ass, legs, as well as many other common—and uncommon—things. Larissa seemed like a hair woman, judging by the way her fingers twisted through your locks, keeping you bent over the bed.

She hadn’t touched you beyond that, though. One hand was locked around your hair, the other... Well, she was stroking herself, seemingly content to maintain the distance between your bodies. It was unusual. Clients usually tried to consume you, to use you until there was nothing left. But Larissa, this woman with her piercing gaze and sharp cheekbones, seemed more like a collector.

You could hear her laboured breathing behind you. But it wasn’t pleasure—at least not entirely. There was something raw in it. Frustration, maybe. Longing.

You turned your head, curious to catch her expression, but her grip tightened, and she guided your face back toward the headboard.

"Stay."

Her voice was low, almost commanding, but there was something fragile underneath it. Something you’d seen before in others: a woman who wasn’t really here with you.

It always came down to projection, didn’t it? You weren’t yourself in these moments—you were the canvas they painted on. Larissa, too, was searching for someone else.

"What's her name?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Larissa's movements faltered.

“Don’t talk.”

You didn’t listen.

“Her name,” you repeated, turning your face enough to glimpse her. "The one you’re thinking of."

She scoffed, shaking her head, but didn’t deny it.

“Not everything has to be spelt out,” she muttered, but the way her shoulders stiffened told you everything you needed to know.

This woman—this ghost—haunted her.

“You know you’ll feel better if you say it,” you pushed gently, straightening enough to sit back on your knees. Larissa stilled, her hand falling away.

She sat heavily on the edge of the bed, pinching the bridge of her nose. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, and you weren’t sure if she was trying to gather herself or find an escape. Finally, she muttered one word.

“Morticia.”

Her lips barely moved when she said it, like she was afraid of summoning something painful.

"Good." You let the name sit between you, an offering of sorts. “Now, was that so hard?”

Her icy blue eyes snapped to yours, narrowing.

“Do you always try to psychoanalyze your clients?”

“Only when they make it this easy.” You smiled, softening the edges of the dig.

For the first time since she’d walked into the room, Larissa smiled back. It wasn’t warm—not yet—but there was something wry in it, something almost playful.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“A little.”

She exhaled a short laugh, running a hand through her hair. The updo she’d tried to keep intact earlier was half undone now, strands curling rebelliously around her face. You thought she looked beautiful like this—dishevelled and human.

You didn’t often allow yourself to feel for clients. It was dangerous, after all. But something about Larissa's loneliness, the way it clung to her like a second skin, called to you.

“You miss her,” you said softly, not a question.

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t deny it.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

“No.” The word was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. But the way her fingers trembled slightly as she worked to rebutton her blouse betrayed her.

She stood abruptly, reaching down for her pants that she quickly put back on.

“I should go,” she muttered.

“Larissa,” you said, her name falling from your lips without thought.

She froze, her hand on the door handle. Slowly, she turned, her eyes searching yours.

"Say that again," she murmured.

“Larissa.”

There was a flicker of something in her gaze, something raw and unguarded.

“You almost sound like her,” she said softly. Her voice wavered, but her expression was steel.

You crossed the room, closing the space between you, emboldened by her hesitation. When you reached her, you lifted a hand, letting your fingers hover near her temple. “Do you want me to be her?”

She swallowed hard. “You can’t.”

“No,” you agreed. “I can’t. Because in what world would she ever want to be with someone like you?”

The words were cruel, but you’d seen what women like her responded to. Pain. It was familiar to them. Comforting, even. You held your breath, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes flared, something igniting in their depths.

She stepped forward, her presence filling the air between you, heavy and electric. It took everything you had not to retreat—not to give her the satisfaction of seeing you falter. She was close now, too close, her icy blue eyes locking onto yours, turbulent and searching. They flickered like a storm barely held in check, and you wondered if she was about to lash out or leave altogether.

Your heart raced, an unpredictable rhythm, and you weren’t sure if it was fear or desire that caused it. Maybe both. Then, before you could steel yourself, she closed the distance.

Her lips crashed against yours, a punishing press of mouth on mouth. It was rough and demanding, all sharp edges and no finesse, but you met her fervour head-on, refusing to let her dominate entirely. You pushed back, kissing her with just as much bite as she gave.

It was the right move. A low growl escaped her throat as her hands found your hips, gripping tightly. She pulled you against her, guiding you down onto the bed without breaking the kiss. The mattress dipped beneath your combined weight as she covered you, her lips relentless.

The kiss was messy, a heady mix of clashing teeth and lingering wine. Her perfume lingered faintly on her skin, a floral note beneath the heat of the moment. It was intoxicating, but not enough to distract you.

Your hands worked quickly, curling around the collar of her blouse and tugging her closer. The buttons she had so meticulously fastened earlier came undone with ease under your fingers, and when you finally managed to peel the fabric off her shoulders, she hovered above you, breathless and dishevelled.

“You’re an idiot,” she growled, and you knew she wasn’t talking to you but rather herself.

“You’re a cunt,” you shot back, breathless but smiling.

She pulled back just far enough to smirk, the expression sharp and self-assured. “You are what you eat,” she quipped before diving back in.

A laugh bubbled out of you, unexpected but genuine. The sound didn’t seem to bother her; if anything, it spurred her on. She buried her face in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to anchor herself.

Her weight pressed down on you, solid and comforting in its intensity. Your hands roamed to her biceps, gripping them, feeling the tension in her muscles as they shifted and flexed beneath your touch. She moved with purpose, her hands sliding over your body, down to your hips, then lower still.

Your legs moved instinctively, wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. The fabric of her pants rubbed against your skin, and when her hardened length brushed against your core through the layers, you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped you.

She hummed softly, rolling her hips against yours.

"Larissa, please," you begged, the words tumbling out more earnestly than you'd intended.

Her movement stilled. Rising to her feet, she left you sprawled on the bed as you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as she reached for the zipper of her pants. Hooking her thumbs into the waistband, she slid them and her panties down in one fluid motion. Your eyes stayed locked on her face, unblinking, even as she stepped out of the fabric and crawled back toward you, her movements deliberate.

Your arms stretched toward her as she closed the space between you. Without breaking eye contact, you reached into your discarded purse beside you, your fingers quickly finding a condom and tearing it open with practised ease.

The other hand drifted down her body, brushing over the curve of her breasts, the smooth line of her navel, and lower. When you felt the soft hair below her belly button, your fingers ventured further, wrapping around her cock, heavy and hot in your palm.

The first experimental tug earned you a soft groan. The second, a deeper growl. By the third, her forehead came to rest against yours, her breathing laboured as you carefully rolled the condom over her length. Satisfied, you lifted your eyes to hers, offering a small nod of readiness.

She crushed her lips to yours in a fierce kiss, pushing you back onto the bed. The kiss was rough, more teeth than softness, and you moaned against her mouth, your breath hitching when her fingers finally found you. They slipped through your folds with practised precision, circling your clit with just the right pressure to make you gasp. Her teeth nipped at your bottom lip, her control maddeningly exact.

Sweat slicked your skin as your breaths mingled, and more than once, she brought you right to the edge of release only to pull back, leaving you teetering on the brink. By the third time, you shot her an exasperated glare.

“I’d apologize, but I’m not sorry in the slightest,” she said, her grin equal parts smug and infuriating.

Your response caught in your throat when she finally positioned herself at your entrance. With a deliberate push of her hips, she filled you, the stretch overwhelming in the best way. You whimpered, unable—or unwilling—to hold back the sound.

"Larissa," you gasped, your voice barely above a whisper.

She buried her face against your neck, her breath hot against your skin as she groaned. It almost sounded like a name—Morticia, perhaps—but before you could linger on the thought, she thrust again, hitting a spot deep inside you that made you cry out.

Your arms wrapped around her shoulders as her pace quickened, each movement precise and powerful. Her hands roamed your body, squeezing, gripping, and claiming. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself believe she wanted you—not whoever haunted her mind. But you quickly dismissed the thought. This was just a transaction, nothing more.

Her pace grew erratic, her body trembling as she neared her climax. To your surprise, you felt your own release building, an unfamiliar sensation creeping over you. You rarely let yourself enjoy these moments with clients, but something about Larissa’s focus, the weight of her presence, unravelled you.

The wave of pleasure hit suddenly, your cry sharp and unrestrained. At almost the same moment, Larissa thrust deep one final time, her body going taut as she groaned through her release. The condom dulled the sensation, but you swore you could still feel the faint pulse of her inside you.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the room filled only with the sound of your ragged breaths. Then, with a grunt, she pulled away, disposing of the condom in the bin before beginning to redress in silence.

“Dinner?” she asked casually, buttoning her blouse without looking at you.

You laughed, reaching back to zip up your dress. “I don’t have dinner with clients.”

Sliding onto a nearby stool, you bent down to clasp your heels.

“Even if they pay you?” she asked from the doorway, her tone light but curious.

Looking up, you caught her gaze, noticing the brief flick of her eyes to your cleavage before they returned to your face. A smirk tugged at your lips, mirrored instantly by hers.

“Good night, Larissa,” you said, your voice soft but firm.

She chuckled, a low sound that lingered even as she turned to leave.

“Good night.”

————————————————————————

taglist: @weemssapphic , @im-a-carnivorous-plant , @dingdongthetail , @azu-zu , @gwensfz , @erablaise-blog , @rainbow-hedgehog , @renravens , @kaymariesworld , @niceminipotato , @witchesmortuary , @notmeellaannyy , @weemswife , @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 , @redkarine , @women-are-so-ethereal , @opheliauniverse , @willisnotmental , @raspburrythief , @fictionalized-lesbian , @ness029 , @geekyarmorel , @h-doodles , @cxndlelightx , @m1lflov3rrr , @winterfireblond , @nocteangelus15 , @aemilia19 @spacetoaim22 @vendocrap8008 @jkregal @gela123 @lilfartbox1 @xuukoo @bellatrixsbrat @sadsapphic-rose @dumbasslesbi @larissaoftarthweems @larissalover3 @friskyfisher @fliesinmymouth @imprincipalweemspet @forwhichidream11 @amateurwritescm @imlike-so-gaydude @sugipla @lvinhs @http-sam @gweninred @a-queen-and-her-throne

[rippersz]

𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆'𝒔 𝑨 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Larissa Weems x Reader x Alcina Dimitrescu (NSFW; Double Penetration; Lewd Language; BDSM; Mommy Kink; Breeding; G!P)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

It’s too much. 

It’s way too much.

Too much touching, too much pleasure, too much passion. 

It’s all warm bodies, panting breaths, deep growls, small whimpers, and so much heat that you feel faint with it. They have you stuck in between, held up and hovering over thick thighs while two sets of strong hips alternate powerful thrusts. In and out. In and out. In… out… Easy and light for the two of them as sharp nails leave deep indents in the flesh of your ass, clenching and unclenching. She shoulders most of the weight, the taller of your two lovers, while she takes her fill. Insatiable and dark. Hard, fast, and rough. There’s grunts that pour past your ear and fan against the sensitive skin of your neck, creating the most precious addictive harmony as she scrapes razor-sharp fangs along the soft flesh of your trapezius. Skirting around the very edge of pain. She knows you fear it. She knows you’re waiting. Fortunately, she’s already made up her mind. The feeding will be for another night- or perhaps later, when you’re passed out on the bed between them, plugged to keep the warmth of their cum from spilling out of your pretty body. She’s unbelievably excited about that if the flex of her hips and strong steady hold is anything to go by. It’s a sweet gesture in the long run, keeping you in place so that the woman in front of you, grasping onto your lower thighs, can have an easier time using you for pleasure. 

And she is. Absolutely. 

Larissa’s porcelain skin is flushed pink with desire, spreading all the way down to the milky expanse of her bare chest. She’s huffing, her beautiful red lips parted with a sense of disbelief while her eyes, blown dark with an appreciative pupil, lock themselves onto the sensitive place where your bodies meet. She studies your venus mound, the soft curls wetted by your desire, and licks her lips without thought while you watch the hypnotizing roll of her torso. In and out… in and out… smooth and easy and deep enough to make both of you exhale soft moans and whimpers on each thrust. She doesn’t have the stamina Alcina does, but that’s why your draconic lover takes most of the force… and most of the resistance. Their difference in size, in moments like this, is terribly noticeable. You feel it in their hands, in the closeness of their chests and their heights, even while kneeling on the bed, and in the thick of their cocks as they grind into you from both ends. 

Filling all that they can, for all that they’re worth, and enjoying the sounds of your broken cries. 

“P-please- can’t!- Sens-sensitive!” You scream, vision blurring with hot tears as they continue their evil dance. 

Alcina is absolutely fucking punishing. You’re not sure how you’re going to walk comfortably come morning with the way she smacks against your backside. She’s obviously not shy and only finds a sick sort of enjoyment in your answering sobs whenever she whispers how tight you are for her. How desperate. Clenching around both of their lengths like a needy depraved little slut. 

And Larissa, who listens with sharp ears and responds with appreciative moans, can only watch and partake in her own lewd show as she sees the way Alcina hovers over you. Making eye contact with those golden fires, feeling adored beneath the heavy heat that comes with the constant stare your taller lover gives her. Eyes raking over the softness of her breasts, the hickies on the swell of her ribs, the golden curls at the base of her cock… Slightly smaller than Alcina’s, and tinged pink with delight as it moves in and out of you with fervor. Stretching with ease as you take her right to the hilt over and over and over. It feels like a piece of Heaven all on its own, plucked right from the stars, as Larissa looks up from beneath her lashes and bats her eyes at Alcina. Her cock throbs, wild with pleasure, as it fills you swiftly- and she takes that moment to pause. The lull barely has time to confuse you before Larissa is leaning closer, pressing your chests together in warm, hazy damp delight, so she can bring her lips right up to your-... shoulder. Over your shoulder. To meet the pull of Alcina’s body as her bountiful chest, soft and gentle, pins itself to the contours of your back. You can almost feel the heavy thump of her heart. 

“Kiss me, darling,” Alcina breathes quickly, her voice a deep pleasant rumble brushed against Larissa’s lips. They keep themselves inside of you, prolonging the ache in your body as they kiss. Slow and sensual, red lips opening and parting, pink tongues licking into each other with languid strokes. Eyes closed, suspended in bliss, throats bobbing with the most erotic moans. You can only watch, entranced and bewitched, as a strong shiver races down your spine. You quake in their shared hold and shift your gaze to see- Oh. Gold. Striking gold, glowing beneath a heavy lid, watching you with cloying amusement. It’s embarrassing to be seen in such a needy state, blushing and clenching and eager for whatever they can give you… you want to hide away, but you have nowhere to go. They’re so warm, so strong, and kissing so lovingly. 

Alcina’s eye closes as she loses herself in your other lover’s sweet mouth, and the desperation in your body only shoots to unbearable heights as the attention is stolen away.

“Please,” you whimper. Give it to me. Anything. Fuck me until I pass out and you can’t control yourselves anymore. Please. Anything. I love you. 

Larissa is the first to pull away. She’s slow, letting Alcina steal one last moan from her lungs, before she’s settling back onto her heels and licking the spit from her lips. Slow and appreciative. You figure they both taste like wine and sex and your body begins to squirm without much thought–completely taken by the envious nature that swells in your heart. 

Kiss me too. Please. Please, kiss me too. 

“Poor thing…,” your lover whispers, her breath like a cool balm against your heated skin. You nod immediately, trying to garner some appreciation, some sympathy, and lean your head back to rest on Alcina’s collarbone. She feels so strong behind you, still holding your legs without even a tremor in her forearms - and keeping you open for Larissa, who ducks to nuzzle against your neck. “Have we been neglecting you?” She asks in a murmur, the words flowing like individual pieces of silk from her cherry lips. 

You nod, quickly, and bring your hands up from your thighs to rest over her shoulders. A small tug has her settling closer, pressing so far into you that no space slips between your bodies. Chests kissing and hips locked, the sweat on her skin glistens beneath firelight. 

The hearth is proudly lit and burning away, flickering with shadows that dance across your sinful tango. Everything smells of perfume and sex and you’re eager to feel them moving again. Alcina is starting to hurt, aching so much within her nestled spot that you try to adjust - but her hands only dig into your thighs with renewed vigor. She doesn’t want you to escape. She doesn’t want you to leave. You feel the burn and you stay there for them, because tonight that’s your job. 

Larissa’s little pet. Alcina’s little fucktoy. That’s usually how it goes. 

And the sweet peck that the former gives you a moment later, lingering in the space between your eyebrows, sparks a little whimper to run from your throat. It’s a raw sound, betraying your need, and you watch as Larissa’s eyes soften. She is always so weak for you—never able to keep up the mean façade for very long. She can tease like a motherfucker, but the near punishing pace Alcina often sets is not something she can always adapt to. So she loves as she does now, kissing every bit of your face that she can reach, letting out soft moans that make your mouth water. And when you try moving to capture her lips, lazily twisting your head, she backs away. A terrible game of cat and mouse. A form of torture that has you in near tears because goddammit you just need them to DO something alread-

“Hngh!” A strained, choked sound, taken from the very depths of your eager soul, splits the heavy air.

It’s tinged with pain, overwhelmed with pleasure, as Alcina’s cock, in all of its big glory, drags out of your hole and slams back in.

“Fuck,” you hear her low murmur before the rest of her appreciation is drowned out by Larissa’s gasp. 

She’s clearly very sensitive, instantly shutting her eyes in undeniable bliss as the motions of your dance start up again. Alcina grinds easily, producing the dirtiest sounds as the meat of her thighs slaps against your ass. And no moan is stifled. No growl is hidden. She wants you to hear her. She knows how much it makes you throb, and when that happens, she knows it pleasures them both. And that’s part of it, of course. A common point of teasing. She pulls out certain reactions from you so you can please Larissa. Your sweet angel. Bucking her hips like she is now, a mad woman made by your own hands. White hair in disarray, chest painted in lipstick and light bruises, legs shaking with need. 

They stretch you so well… The perfect fits for your body. Even if it hurts. Even if, occasionally, you wince. It doesn’t matter. You’re just so warm… So easy… Constantly ready to drop to your knees if they ask. Always in the mood to give yourself up. It’s just as Alcina says:

“Such an eager little whore for your Mommies, aren’t you darling?” 

Yes. Yes, you are. 

“Mhm… Our pretty little cocksleeve…”

God, yes.

“Isn’t that right, Larissa? Such a good princess we have, hm?” 

The response is a deep purr. “Without a doubt, my love. So… oh gods, fuck… so obedient…”

Very. The most obedient. No choice but to be. Doesn’t matter. You’re a good princess. Best cocksleeve. All for them. Pretty Mommies…

Out there, you are more than this. You are something perhaps a bit more human. A bit more independently functional. You are expected to do things. Told to be mightier. Conditioned to work and provide and never rest.

But here… 

Oh here you are nothing but a means to an end. A hole to fill as your lovers, all red lips and aureate eyes crashing into sapphires, black and white hair in complete contrast, fuck you at their own paces. Staring at each other over your shoulder, hearts in their pupils, while they use you like the two-holed toy in between. Your pleas go unanswered. Your tears go unlicked.

They use your body like they’ve spent their whole lives waiting to. And your body accepts them. Eager for their care, their love, the heat that they want to fill you with.

“Cum with me, Larissa.” In your foggy haze, you hear Alcina pant. “Please,” she begs, a sweet sound you rarely get to hear, “Help me- hngfuckfuck- f-fill our little girl.” 

The term of endearment has you exploding in goosebumps, growing stiff with the amount of times your cunt squeezes around Larissa’s length in the span of only a few moments. It’s addicting, this position. This intimacy. The mind-numbing passion that follows in the wake of their rapid, eager thrusts. An easy tell for the bliss you’re about to feel. 

“Yes- yesyesyesyesyes!- Al-cina-!” Your fair-haired lover squeaks as she doubles over, presses her forehead into your neck, and pumps her hips erratically. The shiver flows through her veins and comes to a head, quick and hard, as she crumbles inside of you. 

Alcina, delighted by the show of those blue eyes rolling back in pleasure, follows without preamble. Her thrusts are mad, lost in their forgotten timing, and descend into short bursts of strength as she works herself all the way inside and finally gives into the electricity that floats into her body. 

The feeling of their breasts pressed to your front and back, heaving with the love you’ve given them, the Heaven that’s been taken, is enough to send you into a small orgasm of your own. It’s a weak pulse of your body, too tired and hazy to register anything but the thick warm cum that floods you. Spilling and spilling until you’re nearly certain that it’s all going to dribble out onto the length of their cocks as soon as they pull out, and then dirty the bedspread.

But really who gives a fuck about the bedspread? 

They’ll just buy another set, rich and expensive and softer than feathers. 

And then ruin that one too.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Drops dead - Rip x

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Too tired for tags... waaaa...

[meowmeowhissss]

She is perfection and I am going crazy right now

[queondagrey]

Bold of Weems to assume she would find peace in death with an Addams around

[theswordmaiden]

Stress Relief

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader — ao3

Poor Larissa is frustrated and needs a helping hand. . or throat. warnings: NSFW, g!p, shifted cock, blowjob, praise, finger-sucking, etc. // word count: 2.4k Thank you @ weemssapphic for being willing to beta this <3

Larissa had been fidgeting with the end of her pen when you’d entered her office only moments ago, her little darling, so sweet to check in on the poor woman. Today had been exhausting, from the moment she’d dragged herself out of bed, joints aching and stiff, to the constant bickering of students outside her door all afternoon arguing about who knew what.

But then you’d come in with a cup of hot chocolate, perhaps no longer as warm as you would have preferred, but enough to satisfy, and she’d sipped it gratefully, relieved to have something else to focus on besides the mounting stress of the day — and to have you perched so prettily on the corner of her desk. 

Now she listens as you ramble about the obnoxious construction in Jericho, but her attention is more focused on how your fingers trace the rim of your cup with slow deliberation. It is hypnotic, like a siren's call, lulling her senses into a trance-like state. When you fall silent and look at her expectantly, you can’t help but notice the slight twitch in her eye. It seems that her frustration has returned, though perhaps in a different manner than before.

Larissa flinches at the hand that suddenly brushes against hers. "Is something the matter, Riss? You look flushed..." you question, your thumb pressed against her palm, somewhat amused as her eyes meet yours. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Sorry, darling,” Larissa clears her throat and reaches for her drink. Watching you makes her feel parched. "Today has been quite frustrating…” Her voice trails off as she contemplates the lingering emotions, dark eyes staring at you curiously.

"Well," you lean in closer until your lips brush against the skin of her knuckles, "I could help you forget about that...?" The warmth of your breath causes Larissa to shiver, your voice like silk against her sensitive flesh. Anticipation pools within her belly as she watches you ease yourself from her desk and coax her up from her chair to take a much-needed break.

Your hands come to rest against Larissa’s hips, tracing the generous curve of them, pressing into the soft flesh as you massage small circles. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up with an innocent smile that belies your intentions. It bunches around her waist, revealing a tantalizing patch of hair that trails from her belly button down to the waistband of her panties.

“Careful, pet,” Larissa warns, though still leans into your touch, allowing you to continue, “Someone should teach you some manners…” The corners of her lips tilt upwards in a coy smile as she studies you, her fingers idly playing with your hair as she waits, wanting to see how far you can be pushed. “I’m sure we can think of something, hm? Sweet girl, always taking care of me..”

Sinking to your knees before she even has to ask, your head tilts back to meet her gaze with big doe eyes, the tip of your tongue naturally darting out to wet your pouting lips. Your hands reach down around her calves to pull her closer, nails biting at the flimsy stockings protecting her skin from your touch.

Slowly you trace up the mile-long expanse of her legs, the tantalizing touch making Larissa’s cock strain against her panties as your warm palms make their way across the tautness of her thighs — drawing closer to where she aches, but never fully giving in to what she needs. Finally rounding the sides of her hips, two fingers hook around the sage green lace holding her and pull down, releasing the writhing length of her cock.

Sucking in a shaky breath, your eyes trail down Larissa’s body, groaning in appreciation as you settle on the sight of her dick twitching between milky thighs, following the slight curve of it with your gaze. It stands proudly, thick and heavy, framed by a neat patch of blonde curls at the base, and a prominent vein that runs up the side you want to trace with your tongue. The thought of her using your throat for her pleasure, just how deep she could push before you choke around her, sends shivers down your spine, and your mouth begins to water. You let out a small whine as your eyes meet hers once again, only to see them completely black, pupils dilated wide with desire, and you give a squeeze to her thighs in a silent plea.

“You make me want to ruin that little innocent look you’re always so careful about showing,” Larissa murmurs, sighing as she cups the side of your face, tilting it slightly. “Such a perfect mouth..” Her thumb stretches out to trace along your bottom lip, soft and inviting, watching in fascination as she pulls it down, parting your mouth slightly, revealing the velvety surface of your tongue. “Open for me, would you, sweetheart? Wider… Ah, there we go. Good girl.” A pleased hum leaves her crimson lips as you obey, allowing the digit to travel the length of your tongue, pushing as deep as it can go before stilling.

“Now suck.” 

Her thumb slides farther between your lips, in and out, back and forth, and you taste the saltiness of her skin as it lingers against the warmth of your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out soft moans as you suck on her digit, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling. Larissa curls her index finger under your chin after a few moments and guides your head up, your eyes opening to meet her intense gaze, while her other hand caresses the side of your face.

Larissa’s touch is gentle, leaving a trail of heat in its path as her knuckles trace down the side of your face, starting from your temple and working their way lower. She pauses at the roundness of your cheek, the pad of her fingers pushing against the skin of your cheekbone before continuing their journey down. Lower and lower they go, until her thumb reaches the corner of your mouth, tugging it down, only to watch it snap back into place. 

“I’ve been thinking about these pretty lips all day... and how much prettier they’d be wrapped around my cock.”

With gentle pressure on your chin, she urges it loose, and you can’t help but to obey, eagerly opening your mouth as she guides her cock towards your waiting tongue — teasingly tapping the tip against its velvety surface before finally easing herself inside, filling your mouth with her presence. A pleased hum rumbles from the depths of her chest as she watches you eagerly take her in.

Your throat constricts, struggling not to gag as you adjust to the length of her shaft. You can feel every movement, slow and deliberate, inch by inch, as Larissa’s cock invades the cavern of your mouth, stretching your lips to accommodate its thickness. She shifts her hips back before slowly pushing forward to enter your mouth once more, your lips puffy and pink, becoming greedy, not wishing to spend a second away from the warmth of your tongue.

The head of her cock presses deliciously against the back of your throat each time it slides back inwards, Larissa’s hips twitching in restraint from just holding your skull in place and fucking your throat to a bruise. 

Slowly, you push your head down until you reach the base of her cock, blonde curls tickling at your lips and nose as they meet the junction between plush thighs, each grunt and shaky breath from the woman above you making you shudder with need. You pull back, releasing her with a wet and lewd pop that echoes, a glistening strand of saliva connecting your mouth to the pink tip of her aching length, leaving a messy trail down your chin as you inhale shakily.

Larissa’s gaze flickers down to watch the connection break, her breathing deepening as she takes in the sight of you — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, a bead of sweat trickling down your brow. The way you look at her, eyes half-lidded in your blissed state, mouth still parted and waiting, ignites a primal urge within her to claim you completely. Her little pet, so perfectly pliable and eager, as if you were nothing but a hole to fill.

You, so obedient, made just for her, on your knees like a saint praying at an altar, worshiping the length of her neverending body. Your hands roam around the back of her legs, carving marks into the supple skin, begging to feel her back down your throat.

“Look at you,” she coos, her voice so sickeningly sweet and low that it sends another wave of heat pooling in your lower belly. “So good to me, aren’t you? So willing to take what I give you, letting me put that mouth of yours to good use...” Larissa’s fingers thread through your hair, grabbing a fistful to gently tug you back down onto her waiting cock.

She begins to thrust forward again, just enough for you to feel every twitching inch of her filling your mouth. Your hands grip at the flesh of her thighs for stability, nails digging in as she increases the pace, each thrust pushing deeper into your throat, swallowing around her length. You groan around her cock as she sets a bruising rhythm, pushing you down, holding you there, keeping you still, before drawing you back up again, forcing you to meet each quick thrust.

“Look at how perfectly my cock fits in that pretty mouth of yours,” she growls, accentuating each syllable with a purposeful thrust that makes you clench around nothing — so desperate to be used for her pleasure, licking and sucking and slurping as if your life depended on it as she uses your face like a fuck-toy.

“That’s right, just like- oh gods- like that.. choke- mmph- on it like a good- ngh- good f-fucking girl.”

Your throat constricts around her, a desperate gasp escaping as you gag, fighting against the urge to pull away even as your lungs scream for air, eyes watering at the gratifying stretch as you take it like the desperate bitch you are. Again and again, her cock hits the back of your throat, another sputtering moan escaping from your drooling mouth, your tongue lapping and swirling at every inch she gifts you with.

“Breathe through your nose, honey,” Larissa instructs through gritted teeth as she finds a heavenly rhythm, angling your head just right so that it makes her see stars. Her breaths are ragged, chest heaving as she cries out your name, over and over like a mantra, thighs trembling on either side of your head. “Just- ah- a little longer, doing so- so well for me- ugnh, fuck!”

Your jaw is beginning to ache, your throat raw and sore, yet you can’t help but moan around her cock, wanting more, always wanting and craving it. Larissa’s hands tangled within your hair grip harder to hold you steady as she bucks against your face, her thrusts becoming deeper. You feel her length twitch against your tongue and you know she’s close.

“Almost there, t- take it all, darling,” she gasps, her voice thick with urgency, “want you to- fuck- swallow it down like a- ngh- good little slut.”

Larissa’s thrusts become more desperate, hungry, her hips jerking forward in quick, erratic movements. Whimpers fall from her lips, her head thrown back in pleasure, teeth bared to the ceiling, each sound sending white-hot pleasure down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off her, the tension building like a coiled spring, threatening to snap.

You whine around her as she thrusts harder and faster into your mouth like a depraved beast, every bit of your remaining energy focused on pleasing her. Your tongue flicks out, tracing circles around her cockhead as she drives deeper into your mouth, begging — pleading — to let her cum down your throat, and all you can do is hum around her shaft, hoping she’ll do just that.

Larissa breaks apart above you in a series of loud moans and curses as you surge forward, hitting down to the base of her cock once more, pushing her over the edge. Stars dance behind her closed eyes as her hot release spills into your mouth, which you eagerly swallow, milking her for all that she’s worth until there’s nothing left and she’s nudging you away from her sensitive length; trembling and panting as she lets you pull back.

As you lean back on your heels, a rush of oxygen fills your lungs, bringing sweet relief to your heaving body. The lingering taste of her still coats your tongue, and you savor it before wiping the remnants of saliva from your face with the back of your hand.

Larissa’s eyes flutter open, meeting yours with an appreciative smile. “My precious girl,” she whispers, the deep timbre of her voice low and husky, as she reaches down to stroke your cheek and tuck away damp curls behind your ears. There is something intoxicating about the way she gazes down at you — sated yet still hungry, a predatory glint in her stormy blue eyes that hints this is far from over. “Thank you for taking care of me...”

You lean into her touch, nuzzling against her palm and relishing in the attention, and you press your mouth against the skin, despite your exhaustion. Your lips trail a path of kisses from the inside of her wrist to the delicate curve of her elbow, savoring the saltiness of her skin as you work your way across her body.

“More, Rissa,” you rasp against the softness of her belly, nipping at the ivory skin. Larissa shivers as your lips meet her navel. You look up at her through your lashes, eyes wide and pleading as you pout — surely you deserve to cum, too, after all of that? “Please?”

“More?” Larissa echoes, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness as she tilts her head in mock innocence. Her fingers weave into your hair again, tugging gently but with enough force to elicit a soft gasp from your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Greedy thing...”

You nod fervently, unable to resist, like the obedient little thing you are. The heat between your thighs is unbearable, after all, and you’ve been so, so good for her…

“Such a desperate little pet. Always wanting more, hm?” she tuts, her voice laced with amusement as she continues to toy with you, relishing in your desperation for her touch. Larissa enjoys making you wait until you’re dripping with need. And only then when you decide to pout some more does she relent, just as she always does for her favorite girl.

“Get up, then... I think you deserve to be taken care of, after being so good to me...”

─────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☽₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────

a/n: never in my life have i written such filth.. and i don't expect to do another like this anytime soon, oh my stars. . lucifer, forgive me.

this has been rotting in my docs since February because i was, admittedly, quite hesitant to post this.. there was a time when larissa fans were complaining (and attacking writers) about people writing her with shifted parts which made me a little nervous about receiving backlash.

but, considering there are far worse things out there being written about her, fuck it — literally, lol. this shall be my one and only face-fucking contribution.. for now, anyway.

taglist because my partner asked to be tagged in this.. @viivenn

[official-cvntified-gay]

Me cause kinktober is coming:

(it's not the only one that's coming😏) (we're about to get fed)

[littletonpace]

I Like To Watch / Trixie & Katya ↳ Drag Queens Trixie Mattel & Katya React to “Wednesday Season 1” - Stanning Gwendoline Christie

[creepy-kooky-mysterious-spooky]

Actors who starred in Addams Family projects and Barbie Movies.

[viivenn]

Collar.

she looks quite nice in this lighting… but i wonder what you did to get on her bad side ?👀👀 or … perhaps good side , how she’s looking at you leaves room for interpretation.

[4theluvofsapphos]

Can we get a Larissa Weems who's prolly an 'innocent' tease when she discovers reader likes her since she's a hella smart woman and wants reader to confess first before she reveals the truth that she knows and has been testing her? 👀 (Idk why but that kind of personality suits her sm and so canon)

KINKTOBER WEEK 1 : "CAUGHT"

NSFW - 'Innocent'!Larissa Weems x Teacher!Reader

warnings: smut 18+ duh, kiddos beware & dni please :p, sub!reader, dom!larissa, a bit of dark!larissa, rough handling of r, fingering (r receiving), teasing, larissa is lowkey predatory in a sexy way, a SMIDGE of size kink if you squint!

A/N: I'M BEHIND SHUT UP SHUT U-- BUT! This is so cute~ I love the idea of her playing dumb but really just luring in our poor reader into thinking she's 'just a sweet woman' when she's literally the most predatory little shit on planet Earth!!

I kinda wandered off prompt SORRY ANON FSHDK THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!

no beta we die like weems >:P

Over the past few weeks, Headmistress Weems had been casting you more and more cheeky glances, her heeled foot nudging at the cuff of your pant leg, or her gaze shifting to something just a little more than friendly. Whenever you would point the fact out or comment on it as quietly as you could, the blonde would look genuinely concerned, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean, y/n. Am I making you uncomfortable at all?" She would ask, her deep blues casting doubt over her face.

You would melt every time, assuring her that you must've been overthinking it, and that she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Sometimes, if you felt confident-- you would tease back every once in a while, call her a pet name, or make a little joke. She would always redden and turn away, saying how you were 'just too much', or a flatterer. It made you smile, but you were sure it was only one sided.

Oh how wrong you were.

--

As you stepped into Larissa's office for your routine biweekly check-in and performance review, your gaze caught on something glimmering in the corner of your eye.

Larissa had yet to arrive back to her office, and she generally allowed you access even when she wasn't present, so you quietly let yourself in.

You two had a bit of a heated discussion surrounding student curfew. You believed they should be allowed extra hours during the evenings as you both had been given when you were at Nevermore, though Larissa believed that they would simply damage and destroy property if allowed out and about past 10pm. The playful bickering had gone on for several minutes before a student called her attention away, and she had left you in the hall nearest the teacher's lounge.

"Do feel free to get comfortable while I deal with this..but do your best to not poke around my office too much. It's yet to be tidied." You remember her saying.

Turning to look at what had originally snagged your attention, you realized it was Larissa's lip shaped coat pendant. Leaning in to inspect it closer, you couldn't help but pick the piece up, brushing your thumb over the lip part of the pendant.

Tilting the piece into the light and squinting-- you notice a familiar scar on the left most part of the upper lip. The cast was of Larissa's own lips.

It was with this revelation that you reflected upon how you secretly yearned for your own boss. It was impractical for workflow AND highly taboo, but you couldn't help it.

The way she always chuckled at your jokes, how she would gently squeeze your shoulder or hand whenever you were nervous, her little whispers of praise when she passed by your class in the halls...It was a wonder you hadn't thrown yourself at her yet.

Turning the piece over in your hands, you marveled at the pure gold pendant. It was weighty and dense in your hand, no doubt high purity. Larissa always had a penchant for the finer things in life. You didn't hold it against her-- if there were screaming outcast children all around you constantly, you'd want to at least have something nice to hold onto while it was all happening.

With a small huff, you hesitantly held the pendant close, staring at those lips you craved to taste for so long.

Despite it all, you quickly brought the pendant to your own lips, pressing a soft kiss to the woman who haunted your dreams and waking days.

If only the metal was soft and warm like you had imagined she might be. If only she cou-

"Do tell me you plan to put that back, darling." A familiar voice chided, astonishingly close to you, no less. Lithe fingers came to hold your waist, manicured nails crimping the fabric beneath them.

"I can't have one of my favourite teachers stealing from me now, can I?" That cloying voice pulled at every piece of your inhibition, clouding it...urging it to simply fall apart. You let out a soft squeak, clutching the golden piece to your chest and allowing your eyes to dart down and see those familiar crimson nails. They held you steady, not allowing you to waver.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nervously shaking your head in response. "I-...would never, Larissa." You assure, though the tremble in your voice betrays your earnestness.

With a throaty chuckle, the blonde leans in, whispering sweetly to you-- a warning,"Do you think I'm dim witted, y/n?"

A beat between the two of you stood in silence.

"...No, of course not. I- I think you're brilliant, Lariss-" The grip on your waist shifted to pull your back against her front, her hand came to take back the pendant, before setting it down as she held both of your wrists in one palm, the other securing your waist.

"Good. Do you remember what I had asked of you before I left not more than 10 minutes ago?"

You let out a pathetic excuse of a whimper, melting into her assertive touch.

"Yes but-" You managed between quick breaths.

"Tell me, y/n. What did I ask you? Hm?" This was a side of Larissa you had never seen. You had heard she could be severe and reprimanding towards her students when she needed to be, but never so-- dark.

You had no way of knowing how she had played this role-- this façade of innocence, of kindness and gentle sweetness for so long... And you had walked right into the beast's lair. You had gone against the one thing she had asked of you.

Your brain was mush, but even so, you tried your best to pull yourself together and answer what had been asked of you. "You...told me to not poke around your things--" "And you went and did it anyways..." With the click of her tongue, the statuesque woman brought your trapped wrists in front of you, forcing your palms flat against the fireplace's wall. You were bent forward, embarrassingly so. With a satisfied hum, the blonde released you.

You weren't stupid enough to try and move. A little voice in the back of your mind urged you to be difficult. To move and whine and annoy her on purpose-- just to push her and see how far things might go. But still, you stayed. Obedient to her whims.

As she paced, she thought out loud, eyes glued to your bent form like some sort of beast watching its prey.

"And to think we could have gone on a nice dinner date...gone for some hot chocolate, maybe? Something sweet...simple...innocent. But you had to go and disobey me the one time I give you instruction. I had been easy on you until now, was I too understanding? Too reasonable in letting you get away with your flirtations...your flattery."

Though she was speaking mostly rhetorically, you cleared your throat to retort. "YOU flirted first, Larissa.."

A low grunt accompanied her pause in pacing. Immediate regret washed over your body, filling your gut with a deep dread as she came back to you, wrenching your wrists upward and nearly dragging you to her expansive cherrywood desk.

With a squeak, you were tossed over weeks worth of paperwork, her body bending over yours, chest and hips keeping you pinned where you were. Helplessly, you began to wiggle around, trying to apologize between pathetic little whines.

Larissa had made up her mind, though. She would take you here and now, since you wanted to be so smart about it all. Part of her anger was stress, part of it pent up emotions. She had been playing this long game with you for almost 4 semesters now, a summer in between that with absolutely no action on her end? She had gone almost completely mad for you in that time. Larissa was partially annoyed because of how unbothered by her you seemed to be. Nothing more than a little smile or blush in whatever she said.

But YOU? God, you made her brain fry, her cheeks flush the most humiliating shade of rosy red. You filled her waking thoughts and her night time dreams. You were at the end of each and every fantasy when she lay writhing beneath her sheets some evenings. And still, you didn't seem to care.

So she would make you care.

"You want to argue about who flirted first? Well I'll let you tell me who fucked you first." She growled, lips latching onto your neck. Her painted lips smeared across the skin of your throat, teeth demanding purchase against your tissue.

You let out an explosive moan, knees buckling as the two of you lay flush against the desk and each other. At this, the blonde chuckled, her lips curling up against your skin.

"Excited, are we?" Without waiting for a response, her manicured fingers hooked against one of the back loops of your trousers. Tugging gently and pausing in her movements.

"May I?"

Even in her desperate state, Larissa was a considerate soul. You let out a small chuckle, nodding and replying with a shy,"Yes, please."

As the anger from your employer simmered down, the true passion from the moment was beginning to seep into the very fabric of your beings. Larissa let out little hums of approval as you clumsily stepped out of your pants in your restricted state, (mostly) unintentionally pushing your rear up against her front, causing some appreciated friction for the platinum blonde.

Your mind was ablaze with all the thoughts, questions, and desires from months of teasing and what you now realized was flirtation. The way her fingers seemed to massage out the most sinful sounds from your mouth, and her lips worked like magic in pacifying your need. Sure, you thought Larissa to be beautiful and intelligent-- but never had you thought she would be such a competent lover.

When her body weight pressed heavier into you so her one knee could push your legs farther apart, you thought you might melt into the floor. Everything felt mushy and warm, too warm to be wearing as much as you were-- but it was midday, and if it weren't for this being your break period, you'd have a class.

"Let's see what we're working with, hm?" Her musing was rhetorical, but you nodded frantically anyways. In some way, you thought maybe that would make her move faster.

With a chuckle, she slipped her hand under the waistband of your trousers, brushing past your fuzz and ghosting ever so lightly over your puffy clit.

You let out of a puff of air, desperately wanting to begin bucking your hips-- and if you were in any other position, you would be able to. But it seemed Larissa was set on making you crumble. Her fingers slipped through your folds with ease, a low hum of approval next to your ear letting you know she enjoyed this result very much.

With every whine and little wiggle of your hips, the blonde inched closer to where you needed her most, seeming to revel in the fool you were making of yourself.

"Larissa...rissa..pl..ease." You managed between pants and whimpers of exasperation.

"Please what, darling?" She purred, fingers grazing lightly over your engorged clit, to which you twitched and whimpered yet again.

"Touch..touch m..me-!" You pushed back into Larissa's front again, and this time she obliged, large and lithe fingers plunged themselves into your soaking hole-- and you saw stars.

A pornographic groan of relief rumbled from your chest, eyes widening in ecstasy as she started up a brutal pace. Your cunt squeezed and drooled around the fingers of your employer-- and the thought made you whimper aloud once more.

"There you go, sweetheart. Let it all out.." She chided teasingly, her tone so grossly condescending that it made you scoff slightly, to which she giggled.

Her fingers worked you to putty, while you bit at your bottom lip, and she kissed along your neck, whispering little praises that had you preening with pride.

"So good for me, darling...so good...so fucking good." The profanity falling off her tongue made it sound like a prayer, causing your legs to finally give out. Thankfully for your position, Larissa's weight kept you suspended and prevented you from sliding down and off the desk.

With each ministration, the sounds of slick and wetness permeated the air, and your face grew redder with how embarrassed you were. Well-- you would be more embarrassed if you weren't about to cum on your boss's desk.

As she sensed your squeezing core and growing unrest as your orgasm mounted, her fingers curled up into that spongy spot that was just SO good, so sinfully pleasurable that you couldn't keep the drool from dribbling down your chin and onto the desk-- your eyes rolling back with each curl and uncurl of Larissa's fingers.

"M-m'close.." you managed between keens and moans of pure bliss, Larissa's hand tightening its hold on your hip, the other pausing to readjust, before thrusting itself at the perfect angle. Seconds later, you were flying to the stars, seeing them behind your eyelids, sparks rippling up your spine, body going taut as a bow in the process.

"Good girl, cum for me." She crooned into you, letting you ride out your absolute explosion of an orgasm while she mumbled little affirmations into your skin.

"Fucking Hell, Larissa-- I--"

"Language, Y/N!" She teased, gently removing her hands from your trousers and flipping you over to straddle you against the desk, front to front.

"Pfft- Sure, like you didn't just say the most disgusting and foul mouthed things to me to get me off." You rolled your eyes, clearing the mussed hair from your forehead and wiping the drool off your chin with a sheepish grin.

Larissa's eyebrow quirked in amusement as you readjusted yourself, making sure you saw as she cleaned your essence from her fingers, making a show of her languid (and unusually long) tongue darting over every last drop.

"So-- Does this mean..uhm..we get a nice dinner date, still?"

A hearty laugh escaped the blonde, and she leaned in closer to you, her stature nearly pushing her bosom into your face. You flushed at the action, taking her hips in your hands to keep her steady.

"Is that how it goes? I bed you and then you take me to dinner? I was sure it was the other way around..."

"Well, yeah- but you kind of...chose for me, in a way. I just want to show you that I do see your flirting, and it does affect me more than you think."

Larissa cupped your face, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, a smile lacing her features.

"Well, if you'd like to have a meal together this weekend, I'd love if you'd have me."

"It's settled, then."

-

done!

[weemssapphic]

I've looked around enough to know that you're the one I want to go through time with

Larissa Weems x f!reader

It's been years - decades, even - since Larissa Weems broke up with you. Running into the shapeshifting principal at the Weathervane all these years later, she's just as striking as you remember.

This is sort of a part two to my fic do you get deja vu when she's with you? but it can definitely be read as a standalone (which is why I ultimately decided to post it this way).

Words: ~2.7k | ao3 link in title Hurt/comfort with a little angst but a happy ending

For all of the times you ran into Larissa in the year or two after your break-up, you somehow managed to completely lose sight of her in the years to come. Years have passed without so much as a whisper of the woman you once loved - the woman you’d have once given up everything for turned to nothing more than a distant memory.

Moving helped, of course - no longer feeding your daily caffeine habit at the Weathervane, giving up your Jericho library card, taking up a new job out of town, spending your summers traveling and trading your usual haunts for theaters in New York, cafés in Paris, parks in London - never stopping, always looking ahead. Towards a better life, you told yourself, towards something new and exciting. Towards a future worth living for.

You didn’t realize that you were actually running away. Away from heartache, away from her.

A failed relationship and a wave of nostalgia has brought you back to Jericho. It's fall, and there’s a pleasant chill in the air, and you’re craving a latte - for old time’s sake. You haven’t been back here in years, and you’re almost shocked at how time seems to have stood still for the sleepy little town. The interior of the Weathervane has been renovated, but just barely, looking so similar still to how it looked the last time you were here that it sends an uncomfortable chill down your spine. You ignore the overwhelming wave of deja vu threatening to pull you under and step up to the counter, ordering a latte from the teenage boy at the till.

“For here or to go?”

You shouldn’t stay. You shouldn’t indulge your nostalgia. You shouldn’t risk running into anyone you used to know. 

“For here.” 

If you hadn’t been so lost in your thoughts, you might’ve noticed her sooner. 

As it stands, you’re watching the kid steam some milk, watching him pour it into a glass - the espresso at the bottom of the glass mixes with the milk, creating rich brown swirls that wind their way up the walls of the glass. You thank him and take your coffee, heading back to the corner booth you used to sit in - old habits die hard. You’re so preoccupied looking around the little café, taking in the change in upholstery that had apparently taken place at some point during your absence, that you don’t notice that someone is already sitting in the booth until you’re right in front of it, until it’s too late to turn around.

Thin, white eyebrows raise in shock, blue eyes go wide before she’s able to school her features into a look that you’ve seen on her face before, usually when dealing with difficult parents - a polite but vaguely disinterested smile, seemingly relaxed yet with an undercurrent of irritation, evident in the way the muscle between her brows twitches. It’s truly been ages - how long, 10 years? No, definitely more like 15 - but the years have been kind to Larissa. Of course they would be, you think, unable to help the twinge of bitterness pricking at your tongue at the realization. You wonder, vainly, if Larissa will think that the years have been kind to you, too. You hate yourself for caring in the first place.

She’s clearly aged though, you note, the wrinkles at the outer corners of her eyes more pronounced, fine lines etched into her skin - skin that’s a bit looser around her neck, her jaw. Her nostrils flare slightly, and you can tell she’s uncomfortable beneath your scrutinizing gaze. You’re sure she’s growing self-conscious - it brings you a fleeting sense of satisfaction before the guilt sets in, a heaviness deep within your bones. It shocks you to realize that you’re nearly, though not quite, the same age that Larissa was when you first met her, and that she, in turn, must now be nearly old enough to retire. 

Retire. Is Larissa capable of such a thing? Surely she’s still at Nevermore. Surely she must be married by now - surely she must have children of her own, like she once admitted to you she’d dreamed of having. She’s alone, you note, but you quickly remind yourself that that doesn’t have to mean anything. 

“Larissa.” You hate how smoothly her name rolls off your tongue, like the melody of a beloved nursery rhyme, not sung since childhood yet stubbornly ingrained in the recesses of your memory. “I almost didn’t recognize you.” It's a flimsy lie - Larissa knows it, and you know it, but neither of you addresses it. 

“How fortunate I am that you did,” she replies with a bit of a sardonic bite behind her words, no doubt a reaction to your own distant tone. To both your shock and hers, it makes you grin. 

“You haven’t changed a bit,” you retort, your smile wide, and Larissa's mouth twists at the corners as she lets out a haughty chuckle - she can’t tell if you mean it as an insult or not and, honestly, you’re not too sure yourself. 

You’re expecting her to wrinkle her nose in disdain and tell you she must get going, or perhaps even have the audacity to tell you to leave. Instead, she utters the words “care to sit with me?” with a look of surprise in her own eyes, as if she hadn’t meant to ask you to sit with her at all.

She has, though, and she doubles down on her offer when you hesitate by arching an eyebrow and gesturing to the seat across from her. 

“Why not?” You shrug and sit opposite her, annoyed by the way your hand trembles as you place your glass on the table, by the clumsy way your knee bumps against the edge of the booth and sends a shooting pain through your leg, making you grimace. Larissa pretends not to notice.

Her own hands rest on the table, her fingertips grazing the porcelain of a large, white coffee cup. The backs of her hands show her age more than her face does, and a lump rises in your throat - you look away, focusing instead on the faint print of deep red lipstick on the edge of the cup, watching as those hands raise the cup into the air, towards pursed, painted lips, with fine lines stretching out into pale, incandescent skin. 

Everything about Larissa reminds you of how much time has passed since you last saw her, and you quickly look out the window to your left instead, taking a strange solace in the fact that the view is exactly the same as the last time you’d sat here.

“You don’t live here any longer, do you?” Larissa asks, her voice a deep, soothing rumble, her accent smooth and pleasant as ever, and you chuckle in response, focusing your gaze back on her face.

“Astute observation.”

“I haven't seen you here in a very long time.” Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but she sounds a little bitter, as if displeased that you had the audacity to try and move on.

“Well, I haven't been here in a very long time…” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte - it burns your tongue. “You’re right, I moved.”

Larissa nods, sapphire eyes mapping out your features, no doubt assessing the visible passage of time against your own skin. Her expression remains neutral - it borders on disinterest, though the twitch of her lips betrays her. At one time, long, long ago, she might’ve asked you why you’d moved. Where you’d moved to. What brings you back. Something, anything, that shows an interest in you, in your life. Today, she doesn’t. And you don’t even think it’s because she doesn’t care, but because you both know it doesn’t matter. You both know that you left Jericho because of her, and no amount of small talk is going to erase the past. It doesn’t matter if she cares now or not - not anymore.

“You still at Nevermore?”

Larissa smiles - it almost upsets you. You wish that she’d smiled at you when she first saw you, as she once did - instead it takes a mention of her career to get her lips to curl up into that familiar grin you once coveted.

“Yes,” she replies, both pride and fondness evident in her tone.

“I don’t suppose you’ll retire soon…”

Larissa’s mood seems to sour a bit. It's a fragile thing, her mood - it always has been, but it seems a little more so today. You can’t blame her, you suppose, not when her ex is ruining her lunch break. 

“I don’t think it’s quite time for that yet,” she says bitterly, and you realize that she’s self-conscious of her age, of you recognizing that she’s gotten older in the time you haven’t seen each other. You can see the resentment slowly growing in her gaze, a tiny flame that could turn into a roaring inferno at the slightest gust of wind and burn down everything in its path. Turn you, yourself, to ashes. You smile in spite of yourself. 

“Nevermore wouldn’t be Nevermore without you anyway, would it?” you hum thoughtfully, placating her, and it works. A calm washes over her features and her knuckles unclench and she cocks her head to the side as her gaze sweeps over your form. 

That gaze makes you feel so small. It makes you feel so worthless, because it reminds you of that time she looked at you in the bar on New Year’s Eve, the first New Year’s Eve after she’d broken your heart - like she was looking at a stranger, like she was looking straight through you, like you didn’t exist to her. And it’s been 15 years and you shouldn’t feel that way, still, after all this time, but you do. And you can tell that she knows. You can tell by the way something in her expression changes that she can see the subtle way you shrink down in your seat, the anxiety swirling in your pupils even as you keep your own expression as impassive as you can. 

“I shouldn’t have asked you to sit with me,” she says in a sudden, uncharacteristic bout of honesty. The words are so matter-of-fact, said so abruptly, that they go through you like a cold shower.

She’s probably right, though it angers you to admit it.

“Then why did you?”

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I wanted to know how you were doing,” she says, after a long period of silence. 

“You haven’t asked,” you grumble.

Larissa looks down at her cup, twisting it this way and that on its saucer, seeming to study her own lipstick print for a moment. “I don’t suppose you think I deserve to know.”

Her answer infuriates you even more, because, once again, she’s right. She doesn’t deserve to know. But she has a lot of nerve assuming how you feel after all this time. 

“Do you think you deserve to know?”

Larissa doesn’t answer - you clench your teeth.

The silence that befalls your little corner booth is almost too heavy to bear. Except it’s not a silence, not completely - there’s music playing over the radio, and the song that’s just started hits you like a punch to the gut. 

It’s “Uptown Girl” by Billy Joel, and for a moment you think Larissa hasn’t made the connection. That’s what sets you off - that what you and Larissa had could mean so little to her that she barely remembers any of it - barely remembers something that shoots straight through you and makes you feel, for a single, fleeting second, as though you’re still madly in love, as though you could just reach out and grab her, kiss her and feel her smile against your lips as her arms wind around you and shield you from the world.

“How’s your girlfriend? Or is she your wife now?” you ask - you might as well start asking her questions until you find one she’ll answer. This question is a bit childish, a little petty - you know that before you’ve even opened your mouth to ask it, but you can’t help yourself. You can tell Larissa thinks so, too, by her raised eyebrow. To your surprise, she answers.

“I don't have a partner.”

You’re not sure if the emotion bubbling up inside of you, licking greedily at your insides, is glee or pity - surely it’s a strange, ugly mixture of both seeping into your expression at her admission.

“Did you get bored of her, too?” 

Larissa’s lips part ever so slightly as a blush colors her cheeks - a faint pink hue that’s gone faster than it came. You hate that you know Larissa well enough still to immediately recognize what she’s done: shapeshifted away the visible evidence of an unwanted emotional reaction. You hate that you can’t shapeshift away the redness in your own cheeks.

“That isn’t fair,” Larissa says quietly.

You don’t know what’s more interesting - the fact that she doesn’t deny your statement, or the fact that her eyes are swimming with guilt, even as she frowns at you.

“Isn’t it?”

Larissa doesn’t answer - again - and the song seems to get louder and louder as it goes on, filling the space between the two of you, and your hands clench into fists on the table.

“This fucking song…” you mutter bitterly, and Larissa freezes as a flicker of recognition crosses her face.

“You really liked this song,” she says, as if it’s some sort of revelation to her as she sounds, for the first time, a bit regretful.

You can’t help the hollow laugh that vibrates in your chest at her words. “I really liked you, Larissa.”

Larissa seems taken aback at your statement. She runs a hand over her pristine updo, smoothing down imaginary fly-aways, turning her head to look out the window as tension seems to grip her at the shoulders.

“I know I don’t have much of a right to say this,” she says finally, her voice just a bit softer than it was before. “But I liked you, too. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

You’re stunned into silence. In a way, it’s more of an apology than you ever dreamed you could get. On the other hand… she’s making it sound a whole lot like she hadn’t had a choice in the matter, like she didn’t leave you as if it were the easiest thing she’d ever done.

“You’re sorry it didn’t work out?” you repeat, your voice strangely hollow, and Larissa shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “You’re the one who left, Larissa. You’re the one who made it seem like I was nothing to you.”

“I know I did, and there’s no excuse for that.” Larissa pauses, deliberating. “One thing I never did get the hang of was being in a stable relationship.” She pauses again. “I regret hurting you in the process.”

“But do you regret leaving me?” The words tumble out of you before you can stop them, and you could choke yourself to death, you really could, for sounding so helplessly pathetic after over a decade of unsuccessful mourning.

To your surprise, Larissa doesn’t laugh or shrug off your comment. She tilts her head, meets your gaze. “Yes, I do.”

Larissa takes one final sip of her coffee and stands. Red-tipped fingers slowly disappear into a pair of tan, leather gloves that fit snugly around her wrists. One hand reaches for her handbag, lying on the bench beside her, as the other is placed firmly on the table, used to steady herself as she rises from the booth.

It’s not that you’d necessarily forgotten how tall she is, but you’re somehow struck with the realization anyway, as if seeing her for the first time. Her kitten heels add an inch or two to her already towering height, and she tilts her head down to look at you, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“Where are you going?”

Larissa smoothes a hand nervously over her hair. “I need some fresh air.” Her voice sounds the slightest bit hoarse. “It really was lovely to see you.”

“You’re not leaving again?” you ask incredulously, pushing yourself to your feet and stepping up to Larissa, craning your neck back to get a good look at her face. Her eyes widen and, to your surprise, her lips quirk up at the outer corners.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a walk, then?”

“I would, actually.” 

Something within Larissa seems to relax, and she leads you out of the Weathervane with a hand on the small of your back.

x

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