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[viivenn]

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. (nsfw)

Miranda Hilmarson x f!reader

“We’ve been dancing around each other at the station for months,” Miranda had said when you arrived at the spot she picked. “Tonight, I’m pulling out all the stops. I want it to be perfect for us. Perfect for you. Just… trust me, I’ve got it taken care of.”

♥︎ thank you @theswordmaiden for your lovely beta work💞

‼️| nsfw ! minors dni , please.

🖋️| 1.1k words.

Tonight seemed to be a successful date.

For the past few months, you and your colleague Miranda had been seeing each other—albeit off and on—outside of work. It had been a challenge to keep it a secret, but none of your other coworkers had caught on to the fact you two were together. Well… not really together yet, but together enough for Miranda that she had saved up her last paycheck to take you out for a lovely dinner and chauffeur you around town on her motorcycle.

She’d brought you out to an expensive restaurant that neither of you could ever afford on any other given day, but Miranda had planned out everything, down to the very last detail. She greeted you with a rose when she first picked you up and flashed one of her mischievous grins, the kind that sent a flutter through your stomach and made your cheeks warm.

Her blazer over the top of her gear had your stomach doing somersaults; the dark colored leather suited her more than you’d ever admit. Miranda had given you one of her old helmets that didn��t fit her anymore, and she was gentle as she helped you put it on and buckle the clasp together. The Constable promised to drive extra carefully with you on the back of her bike, and once you were situated, the two of you were off.

“We’ve been dancing around each other at the station for months,” Miranda had said when you arrived at the spot she picked. “Tonight, I’m pulling out all the stops. I want it to be perfect for us. Perfect for you. Just… trust me, I’ve got it taken care of.” And before you could protest, your hand was already linked around Miranda’s as she led you inside.

“How’re you holding up back there?” Miranda asked loudly over the helmet’s microphone as she slowed to a stop at the traffic light. She could feel every movement from behind her and reached for your hands to adjust your hands to rest more snugly around her hips.

It was difficult for you to stay still. The skirt of your dress continued to hike up your thighs as the wind whipped through you, which left you the wiggle room to adjust your posture and move further against the seat. But you nodded at her question and tapped her side to get her attention before you flashed her a thumbs-up. You held onto her, yes, but barely… How could you keep your grip tight when your thoughts had wandered off and the engine hummed just right beneath you?

Miranda waited a moment once the light had turned green before pushing off the ground with her boot. The moment she revved the bike, you thought you might have fainted right then and there. Oh, Gods, how good the vibrations felt against you, your heated center separated from the seat by nothing but the thin cloth of your panties. The more you thought about Miranda’s leather jacket and how good it looked on her, the more sinful thoughts formed in your mind, and the pleasant thrum of the engine drove you crazy. You couldn’t think of anything else—Miranda had just been so sweet to you all night, yet here you were, on the back of her bike while you imagined her handsome face tucked between your thighs until they shook. What was wrong with you?

Your grip on Miranda’s sides tightened as the city blurred around you. Each time she turned the throttle it sent a shock down your spine and made you tremble in place. The cool air did little to help with the heat that had formed between your bodies, and you prayed that Miranda could not notice it. Your arms wrapped around her now and held her tighter as your head—still snug under her helmet—moved to rest against the Constable’s shoulder blade.

Your breaths were heavy as your cunt throbbed and clenched around nothing. Christ, this was torture… You closed your eyes and let out a soft sound of frustration. Too bad for you that, in your haze, you’d forgotten that she could hear every sound you made, every whimpered huff as you pressed yourself against her back, slowly getting off to your dirty thoughts about her on the back of her motorcycle.

“Don’t cum on my seat, I just cleaned my bike,” Miranda snickered over the headset, and the sound startled you. “Save that for my place. We’re almost there.”

“You heard… all of that?” You questioned, mortified. “Shit, I’m sorry, Miranda… I-I don’t know what got into me, I’m ashamed of myself…” God, how could you be so disgusting? How could you be so stupid… Stupid, stupid—

Miranda hit the throttle again to stir up the fire that burned between your thighs. Over, and over, and over, she twisted the throttle, just to purposely push your limits until you whined. “Don’t apologize. I think I like it.” She insisted, and if it weren’t for the helmets, you would have noticed the smug grin plastered across her face.

The rest of the drive home was miserable, not so much embarrassing as it was unbearably hot and humid, even with the cool wind against your scalding skin. You thanked your lucky stars when Miranda finally parked outside her flat. She stepped off the bike and unclipped her helmet, then turned to you with a smirk as she lifted your visor to get a look at your flushed face.

“Look at you, you’re a mess, sweet thing,” Miranda teased as she lifted the helmet from your head and fixed your disheveled hair. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up inside and dress you in something more comfortable. Please? It’s the least I can do after what I seemed to have caused.”

"Yes, please…” Your legs trembled as you stood, and you had to hold Miranda’s arm for support. The Constable chuckled at the glistening spot you’d left behind and smiled as a scowl formed on your face. “I’m sorry again, Miranda…”

“Don’t apologize, please. I did it on purpose.” Miranda adjusted your dress to ensure you were properly covered, and her pupils dilated at the soft whine you let out in response. She supported your lower back with the palm of her right hand while the left idly played with the front laces of your dress.

You glanced around briefly to ensure no one was around before you reached for her hand and guided it lower. Miranda wasted no time and brushed her fingers against the outline of your underwear. She groaned at how soaked you were, and she longed to taste you.

“Mmm… we’ll take care of that, too,” Miranda rasped as she pulled back her hand, unable to resist the urge to bring it to her lips for a taste. “I can run you a bath.”

You shook your head and swallowed thickly. “No bath… bring me to bed, Mir. .”

“Done deal, darling.”

[viivenn]

"(...) That i would inflict such a thing– on Haleana of all people!"

[viivenn]

give it up for Mammalians Nurturable 👏

[viivenn]

please read my wife’s stories , she’s so very talented🥰 this one is definitely going in my favourites list.

𝐏𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐮𝐭𝐬

Larissa Weems x f!reader

“Come on,” Larissa tried again. “Talk to me. Please.” There was a crack in her voice this time, a pleading sound that she no longer could suppress. She hated this—the way you disappeared into yourself more often lately, leaving her stranded on the outside, only to look in. Hated how powerless she felt, how no matter what she said or did, she was never able to reach you.

∙ CW / Mentions: angst/comfort, feelings of worthlessness, mental health issues, low self-esteem, emotional distress? r! is stuck in a depressive state. Should be it?

∙ Word Count: 2.8k | ao3 link in title

The rain drummed relentlessly against the windows of your small apartment, and each droplet seemed to echo the dull, insistent throb that had settled in the back of your skull. It made the panes rattle against the warped wooden frames each time there was a strong gust of wind. Everything was too loud, too overwhelming to handle. The curtains were drawn tightly shut. It did little to block out the dim light that filtered through the edges, but it was enough to keep the room dark enough so that it didn’t hurt your eyes.

You hadn’t moved all day. Not really. You were too exhausted to get out of bed. It didn’t help that the sheets clung to your skin, damp with sweat despite the noticeable chill in the air. They kept you trapped in its embrace, limbs twisted in the blankets. Your body felt… foreign, leaden, as if gravity had doubled its hold on you and wanted to keep you there. You hadn’t even bothered to open your eyes properly yet; instead, you lay there with them half open and stared blankly at the ceiling when you were not sleeping the day away.

It had been weeks—no, months—of this slow, suffocating descent. It started with the little things. Forgetting to take the trash out to the curb, skipping a meal, or neglecting to give yourself water. But now? Now it was everything. The dishes were piled up in the sink, you hadn’t showered in days, and you couldn’t find the energy to do anything about it.

You were always prone to these little bouts—it was only natural, you tried to tell yourself for the hundredth time. Surely everyone had bad days, right? This wasn’t just a bad day, not anymore. It was a relentless string of days after days where you could do nothing but fall into something deeper than you could describe. And now it felt like you were being swallowed whole by it, consumed by something unyielding. You hadn’t really been awake. You just… existed somewhere in that liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, where time lost its grip on you, and the sharpness of your surroundings softened and blurred.

Your chest tightened as that familiar hollowness settled in again—that little ache that wasn’t quite pain but wasn’t simply nothing either. It sat there trapped between your ribcage, heavy and unmovable as if you were dense stone.

Too lost in your spiraling thoughts, you hadn’t heard the front door open or Larissa’s voice as she softly called out to you. She had decided to take some time off of work to dedicate her time solely to you—which you would have known if you had ever bothered to check your phone earlier when she first texted you that she was coming over. Footsteps muted by stockings padded across the house, shuffling around in the kitchen.

You hadn’t noticed her approach your bedroom door, either, her figure framed by the faint glow of the bedside lamp. The dim yellow hue cast shadows across her features, accentuating the tension etched across them. Her brows pulled together as she frowned; the crease between them carved by worry, deep and persistent, as though it had taken a permanent residence.

You were in the same spot where she had left you earlier, curled up beneath the weight of the duvet. From where she stood, Larissa could vaguely make out the outline of your body beneath the heavy blankets, tucked securely away from both her and the world. Her eyes followed the gentle slope of what she assumed was your shoulder, yet even that seemed defeated like the rest of you.

“Hi, my darling,” she uttered softly, her voice low to avoid startling you. The floorboards creaked as she slowly stepped into the room, and she cradled a mug between her fingers. Larissa sat on the edge of the bed beside you, a careful distance away. “How are you feeling? I made tea. I thought it might help with your migraine.”

The only response was the subtle rise and fall of the blankets—so slow and shallow that it seemed like even the act of breathing was too laboring for you, another unbearable weight that pressed you deeper into the mattress. Larissa’s fingers twitched as if she had to resist the urge to reach out and yank back the covers, to shake you from whatever dark place had wrapped its claws around you this time.

Her sigh broke the fragile silence, the sound heavy with helplessness. Larissa placed the warm mug on the nightstand before she ran a hand through her hair. She was a patient woman, far more than you thought you deserved, but it wasn’t enough for her. Not when her gaze flicked toward the blankets again to make sure you were still breathing. Not when every fiber of her being screamed at her to do something, anything, to pull you back from this funk you were in.

“Come on,” Larissa tried again. “Talk to me. Please.” There was a crack in her voice this time, a pleading sound that she no longer could suppress. She hated this—the way you disappeared into yourself more often lately, leaving her stranded on the outside, only to look in. Hated how powerless she felt, how no matter what she said or did, she was never able to reach you.

“I know you’re hurting, my love… But shutting me out like this won’t make it go away. I can’t help if you won’t let me in. . . You don’t have to say anything, just… can you at least let me see you? Just for a second?”

The silence that followed was deafening, and for a moment, Larissa thought she might have pushed too hard, said too much. Then came the shuffled movements from beneath the blankets. Slowly, cautiously, you tugged the fabric down just enough for your face to emerge. You looked so fragile—your eyes red and swollen, cheeks streaked with tears that dribbled down to your chin as it wobbled. 

“There you are, my sweet girl,” Larissa murmured, and her heart broke at the sight of you like this. A tender smile broke across her features—the kind over ever designated for you, the one that made her nose scrunch and her eyes crinkle in that familiar way that spoke of her love for you—despite the tears that welled in her eyes. She resisted the urge to reach out and cup your face, afraid it might startle you back into hiding.

Oh, but the gentleness of her voice, the tenderness in her eyes, and the genuine relief that settled over her once she saw you was enough to break something deep inside of you… It was too much and not enough all at once. A broken sob clawed its way up from your throat before you could stop it, and suddenly, the tears were spilling over your cheeks, hot and relentless. The sound of your cries tugged at her heartstrings terribly.

Larissa’s expression softened further when she saw the first sign of tears, now melted into something more tender and warm. “Come here, sweetheart…” She reached out to coax you closer, to welcome you in the comforting space between her shoulders. The distance between you dissolved in an instant as you leaned forward, and Larissa encircled her arms around you snugly to bring you closer to her chest. “I’ve got you. Let it out.”

The warmth of her body against your own was so comforting, and God, you needed this—needed her. Her embrace was firm but not suffocating, as if she knew exactly how much pressure you needed as she held you together like you were about to unravel on her entirely. Larissa didn’t mind when you buried your face deeper into the hollow of her neck or when your tears soaked into the collar of her dress. She didn’t mind when your sobs turned ragged and uneven, when your apologies poured out in broken words between hiccuped breaths.

No, she only pulled you closer, ran her fingers through your disheveled hair, and softly cooed against the outer shell of your ear until you settled down.

You sobbed against her chest until nothing more could come out and your chest no longer heaved with each breath. The palms against your back gently soothed you back down to reality, where your heartbeat finally began to settle. Larissa felt so gentle, so caring and loving.

When you inhaled deeply to try and grasp ahold of yourself, you were overcome by her familiar scent. It filled your lungs so heavenly, made you float off into the stars and bury your nose deeper against her skin. She smelt of jasmine, vanilla, and something so uniquely and intoxicatingly hers that made your head spin. It grounded you, reminded you that you were home within her arms.

“No more apologies, darling.” Larissa’s thumb came up to brush away a stray tear from your cheek as she coaxed your chin upward with gentle insistence. “Look at me and listen.”

Slowly, reluctantly, as if you feared to see disappointment lingering in her eyes, you lifted your gaze until it met hers. 

“You don’t have to be sorry for feeling this way,” Larissa said firmly. “You’re allowed to cry. You know I’d never be upset with you for something like that.” The back of her knuckles traced against your cheekbone as she spoke, and she smiled as you leaned into her touch. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed and shut everything out for a while, just… not forever.”

She leaned in to press a kiss against your temple, her breath warm against your skin. “Don’t shut me out. Please. You’re not a burden to me; you never have been. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I don’t want to ever find out.”

Again, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightened at her words—too many emotions at once poured into you that it was difficult to grasp. It wasn’t just despair; no, there was something else. Relief, perhaps, or maybe gratitude. You opened your mouth to respond but faltered, unsure of how to put everything you felt into words. Instead, what came out was meek and riddled with self-doubt.

“I don’t know why you continue to put up with me… why you don’t just give up and stop trying,” you admitted under your breath, your gaze lowering as shame crept up your spine. You were too much to handle, and you began to convince yourself that Larissa would be better off without you… “I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore. I can’t figure out how to fix it. I don’t even know why I’m… why I’m still here.”

Your words were thick with guilt, that familiar, suffocating weight you slowly became accustomed to. Guilt for being like this, for dragging Larissa down with you, for being a burden, for being a waste of space…

Larissa’s brows knitted together in an expression that was somewhere between frustration and heartbreak—not at you, but at whatever had planted such thoughts into your head. She reached out and cupped your face between both hands, keeping you from looking away from her even if you tried.

“How could I ever give up on the person who means so much to me? I would not abandon you. Not now, not ever,” she spoke firmly, hurt laced into her words at the mere implication that she would leave you over something like this. There was no anger in her tone, just an aching kind of love that she wished you could see so that you’d know her heart is forever intertwined with yours. “Would I still be here if I didn’t want to be? If I didn’t care about you, even when you’re like this? My love for you is not conditional—it does not ebb and flow when you lose yourself.”

Her thumbs moved slowly as she brushed away the fresh set of tears that had spilled over your round cheeks, as if she wasn’t just trying to remove the dampness from your skin but also the guilt that accompanied them. Larissa’s fingers trembled slightly, betraying her own emotions. But she had to put on a brave face for you.

She tilted her head, and her eyes searched yours. “Do you understand me?” Larissa’s voice was soft yet firm as she tried to get through to you. “I am not here because I feel obligated to be. I’m here because I want to be. Because I love you. I will only ever choose you every single day, in every lifetime that we are together.”

You wanted to believe her words; you really tried to. A part of you did, somewhere deep down, yet the ache in your chest refused to relent. It gnawed at your conscience, and you hated yourself for siding with your thoughts instead of your lover. You tried to laugh, but it came out weak and hollow.

“I’m such a mess though, Larissa,” you rasped. The words felt jagged as they rolled off of your tongue, as if admitting them aloud would make them more real. Your eyes searched hers desperately, looking for something, anything, that would settle the brewing thoughts inside of you. Instead, more guilt festered in your chest for doubting her, for not being able to accept her love as easily as she gave it. “I’m not the person I was when we first got together, and I hate it. I’m just… broken, and I don’t know how to go back to the way things once were.”

It felt like the truth of your words, so raw and unfiltered, might crush you entirely. You hoped the floor would open and swallow you whole. At least then you could wallow in self-pity without having to drag Larissa down with you.

But Larissa’s gaze did not waver. It never did when it came to you.

“You are not broken,” she said firmly, her brows furrowed together as she took in the sight of your defeated face. “You’re trying to heal, and healing takes time—time that you have to first allow yourself to take and accept where you are right now. I’m here with you, always.” “But I don’t deserve this… don’t deserve you. You’re too kind, and. . and considerate, but I’m not getting any better, it’s just getting worse and—”

“You deserve this,” Larissa interjected softly. She didn’t want you to start spiraling again; that wouldn’t do either of you any good right now. Her thumbs soothed along your jawline, then trailed lower until she held your shoulders. “You deserve this and so much more than what you’ve allowed yourself to believe. You deserve to be loved and tended to, deserve to have someone hold you while you cry, deserve to be shown the same kindness that you so freely offer everyone else…”

The genuine sincerity in her tone sent a fresh surge of emotions through you. You tried to speak, to argue and deflect her words more, yet nothing came out. Your throat tightened painfully as tears blurred your vision, and all you could manage to let out was a pathetic whine of her name.

Larissa’s hands slipped away from you only so she could wrap her arms around you once more. She pulled you into her chest with a kind of determination that left no more room for doubt. Her hand found the back of your head, and she guided it to rest against her chest.

“Until you're able to see that for yourself,” she mumbled against the top of your head, her lips soft as they brushed against your hair, “I’ll spend the rest of our time together reminding you, my darling girl…”

You closed your eyes tightly as you tried to fight off the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you again, and you let yourself sink fully into her embrace. Her hand began to trace slow circles on your back while she whispered how much she loved you against your hairline. 

It wasn’t as if Larissa and her love was a cure. She was, unfortunately, not some sort of sudden, miraculous miracle drug to aid you in your recovery. The rain still drummed against the window, the darkness still surrounded the room, and the uncomfortable weight in your chest was still there. Perhaps it would always be there, in the back of your mind, always nagging in your ear. But something had shifted. You still felt weighed down, yes, but it wasn’t as unbearable as before. As though her words were like a seed, something fragile, meant to nurture, that had been planted in the cracks where your self-doubt had taken root. And maybe that would be enough for now.

—

A/N: This isn't something I'd typically do, much less share, so I know this is probably the weakest piece I've done and won't be liked all that much from those who prefer nsfw. But that's alright. I wrote it in a single sitting while crying off and on, so bear with me if there are any errors lol — I have no one to beta my work these days.

I feel pretty shameful for my feelings, and this just happened to be the next best outlet to somehow deal with them. I did not sleep last night, so I'm also very sleep-deprived at the moment. Whoops. The next piece I post won't be like this nonsense, don't worry.

[viivenn]

If I had a nickel for every time that Shauna shipman had a blonde lesbian lover that she ends up having a toxic break up with I’d have two nickels which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[viivenn]

Sweet baby Jesus and the grown one, too!

[viivenn]

motherhahn at 'the studio' world premiere

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detective Harkness 🤭

full on X:

https://x.com/anodeorain?s=21

[viivenn]

Gwensday!!

@theswordmaiden @weemssapphic @gwenzone

[viivenn]

Lightbringer. (NSFW || minors dni !!)

(obviously.)

decided after a while of not posting on here i’d come back to give you some lucifer peanits for your enjoyment. i guess their little angel just knows how to keep them satisfied…🥰

(full image here💖💖)

[viivenn]

a comic about meeting your younger self :)

Thank you for reading :)

[viivenn]

— “There’s a hole where your heart lies…

…and I can see it with my third eye.”

for my baby @theswordmaiden 💞

[viivenn]

teehee , my love is so talented🤭🤭💋 very proud of them for posting this🥰

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, thank you for being my inspiration behind this.

[viivenn]

"History will paint you a villain"

Fourth wall breaking to make us believe what they're putting in Rhaenyra's mouth.

Alicent went to Rhaenyra's wedding wearing the colors her House use for war, which created the Green and Black teams. She knew what she was doing.

Alicent was the only one who actively hated Rhaenyra's children to be bastards. Corlys and Rhaenys didn't really care, Rhaenyra's own husband didn't care, Viserys was totally happily in denial. Cole hated it, but his opinion doesn't matter.

Alicent made it a big deal, raised Aegon to be scared of Rhaenyra when he had no true animosity towards his sister before. And telling her son to spare Rhaenyra after years of telling him he was a challenge for her and would die if she becomes queen, was silly.

She helped put Aegon on the throne, and when learnt she was wrong to do so, started to show disdain for him that led Aegon to take his dragon to battle and get burnt.

Then, at his weakest state, she accepted Rhaenyra's deal that includes the murder of her son. The very son who did not want to be king in the first place. Just so she could run away with Helaena and her daughter. She is literally fleeing what she helped causing. She could protect Helaena and Jaehaera and stay in KL to be by her sons' sides and accepts the same sentence she put on them. But no, she still wants a way out of this mess.

So, the writers telling us, through Rhaenyra of all people, "Alicent is a only a victim of patriarchy and will be paint as a villain" is so stupid. Yes, she is a victim. But it doesn't justify all she did. In season two, she marvels at how messed up her boys are, when all their life they heard her complain about Rhaenyra and her bastard children, how Aemond lost an eye and how Lucaerys should have lost his too, that Rhaenyra will murder Aegon in cold blood when she becomes queen (before he usurped her).

So, yes, she is a villain and history will rightfully paint her as such. That doesn't make her a bad character, nor does it mean all victims become villains in turn; Rhaenys is a victim of patriarchy too, Rhaenyra and her mum, the servant girl who Aegon sexually assaulted, all the women of the story are victims of that.

[viivenn]

“The Dark at the End of Everything.”

[viivenn]

🌹!!!! >:3

vamp!jane fic. probably will not finish.

““I’ve eyes in the back of my head, girl. Enter.” Her voice was sudden. You must have peered too long.

You caught her gaze from her mirror, pretty blue eyes with the slightest hint of yellow gold. You thought often about her eyes, especially when she would pay you a visit in the garden while you worked on the rose bushes. If the sun hit just right- she would squint yes, but you got the best view of those eyes of hers, like the glass window panes of the church building that depicted dances of angels. Though, miss Murdstone was no angel.

“I’m sorry, milady. Please forgive my staring.” You quickly passed the threshold of her doorway, closing her door and locking it, as was her expectation.

“Worry not, girl,” Jane said, “come help me with my hair.””

[viivenn]

YEAH I'M FIRST 🦅🦅🦅

🌹

top of the lake x abbot elementary crossover !! miranda is the school resource officer. working on concept arts ! a longer post since this won’t be done for a while.

““It’s a school resource officer.” barbara corrected. “They simply… monitor the halls…” She turned to look at a cameraman, “last time I checked anyway.”

“Yeah, and it ain’t a man anyway. it’s a biiig ol’ woman, she tall!” Ava said with a controlled smile. though, it was obvious she was intimidated. or at least, Janine could tell. Melissa raised a brow, Jacob's eyes lit up, and Barbara was gobsmacked.

“Well, how tall is she?” Janine asked, brows furrowed as she looked up at ava. Jacob nodded, implying he wanted to know the same thing.

“Well I don’t know… she’s taller than Gregory! Blonde hair, super short, like to her jaw… she’s got an accent too, like that fancy british person one. We gotta get that girl brown contact lenses, cause her eyes are way too blue." Ava snickered. She poured herself a cup of coffee and mixed in more than enough sugar to give her a cavity, stirring slowly with the straw. “She'll be here soon, she’s got a cop car and everything, the real deal. Don’t screw it up!”

And once Ava left — though not without the backhanded compliment of Janine's current outfit — Janine and Jacob exchanged shocked glances. Melissa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, and Barbara cleared her throat before taking a sip from her mug and looking at the camera man.

“Whelp, I’m done here,” Melissa stood and pushed in her chair, raising her hands, “I'm not gonna get questioned by some cop.” Though, she would not tell anyone that she was intrigued by a female cop. She’d never been questioned by a lady officer… to keep herself from picturing it she focused on the clack of her heels as she walked away.

Janine and Jacob squealed. “We have to meet her, Janine! Do you think she wears, like, the blue uniform? Or maybe a black one?” Jacob thought out loud, imagining what she would wear. He wasn’t much of a fashion geek, but it wasn’t often he sees a female cop… probably because he doesn’t come into contact with any cops.

“If she's taller than Gregory I know she’s gonna keep us safe.” Janine then rethought that sentence. “Not that like, Gregory can't protect us… like not that we’re not safe enough—”

“We get it janine,” Jacob and Barbara said in unison. Barbara rose from her seat and pushed in her chair. The camera panned to Janine, who was awkwardly clearing her throat and trying to make them turn it off.

Later in the day, the officer in question finally arrived. She stood significantly taller than Gregory, a head higher than ava. She wore black boots, navy blue trousers and vest, with a soft baby-blue shirt. it’s obvious she took the badges off of her sleeves, and removed her walkie. at least they let her keep her uniform before she moved… Her hair was combed back, and she smiled shyly as she looked down to meet Ava's eyes, following where they wandered.

“Constable Hilmarson, Miss Coleman, but Miranda is fine too. a pleasure.” Nervously, the blonde rocked forward and back on her heels, keeping her smile while Ava looked her over.”