Couldn't decide which haircut to give this baby butch so I based it both on Oliver Wickham's haircut and on my current one. I think I may have got the carabiner code wrong, but it was meant to signal her as a top/switch. And I think I'm finally starting to understand how to do a better line art 😭
small sketch and render, i really like the lighting in the reference i’m hoping i pulled it off 😭🙏 i’ve been in a bit of a rut lately but i’m trying to get more pieces done for you guys 🫶
"Need references of the underside of her jaw at a specific angle" "need to see what her butt looks like" "wait I need to see her teeth" "need this angle refrence of her looking like she stepped on the camera"
And more often times than not, these are for completely not sexual reasons at all
The local mall was the busiest it had ever been, everyone from the surrounding towns doing their last minute Christmas shopping. An area near the entrance had been converted into a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow, oversized candy canes, and a massive Christmas tree. An old man in a Santa Claus costume welcomed children from a long queue that wrapped around nearly a quarter of the mall, accompanied by a small group of ‘elves’ tasked to take photos of him with the children and to do crowd control.
Each child you passed as you walked to the end of the queue was louder and more hyper than the last and you grimaced and turned to Larissa with an apology on the tip of your tongue, only to find her smiling pleasantly at Alice as the little girl skipped beside her, divulging in great, trivial detail what she had already told you at breakfast about her Christmas wishlist.
Of course Larissa was good with children — you couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t be, running a school, after all. Kids of all ages went to Nevermore, though you usually only saw the older students in Jericho. Apparently she was a natural even with the little ones, so much so that she hardly seemed to notice the din that the kids at the mall made, which was already starting to give you a headache.
“Could you guys watch the kids for us?” Deanna asked, trying to put Ben down. He clung to her neck, his little face already scrunching up and turning red. She sighed, glancing at you pleadingly, though before you could react, Larissa was already reaching out her arms.
“May I?”
“Yeah — please.”
Larissa took Ben into her arms — he resisted at first, grabbing onto Deanna’s hair and letting out a wail, but she managed to pry herself from his strong, toddler grasp. Larissa clutched him to her chest and began to coo at him.
“Thank you, we’ll try to be back before you guys reach Santa.” Deanna grasped her husband’s elbow, lowering her voice. “Last minute presents.”
The two of them disappeared in a throng of people, leaving you and Larissa with Alice and Ben. The former hardly noticed her parent’s absence, rocking on her heels and craning her neck to see Santa in a sort of feverish anticipation, while the latter was sniffling into Larissa’s neck, his little hands balled into fists against the front of her dress.
To say you were impressed was an understatement — Ben was generally a pretty quiet child but once he started crying, it was nearly impossible to get him to stop. And he could be loud. But Larissa held him tightly, one arm under his bottom and the other hand at the back of his head, gently stroking dark curls as she whispered to him and rocked him back and forth. Bright blue eyes locked onto yours overtop his head, and you felt your palms turn clammy in an instant. Painted lips curled into an easy smile, and you felt your knees turn to something closely resembling jell-o. There was something dizzying about Larissa holding your nephew as if he was her own, something that made your heart skip a beat.
You smiled back (at least, you hoped you did — you felt a bit faint all of a sudden) and were very grateful for the distraction when Alice tugged at your coat and asked you how long the queue would take.
“I don’t know, all these kids have to tell Santa what they want for Christmas, too.”
Her eyes widened in sudden horror. “Is he going to have time to give us all presents?” she asked anxiously. You crouched beside her, holding her by the shoulders in what you hoped was a comforting manner.
“Of course he is. He’s been bringing kids all over the world their presents, for hundreds of years.”
“That’s why it’s so important we leave out carrots for the reindeer,” Larissa supplied, and your head snapped up to see her peering down at you and Alice. “To give them the energy to fly quickly enough.”
Alice soaked in Larissa’s words, nodding gravely. She craned her neck again to look down the queue, and you stared up at Larissa, who winked at you. You swallowed thickly, rising slowly to your feet, your knees popping on your way up and making Larissa laugh.
“I thought you were younger than I am, your knees are already giving out?” she teased.
“You have no idea,” you replied weakly.
The queue took ages and even when you reached the front, Deanna and Dan were nowhere in sight. Alice held onto your hand tightly, her grip strong and her expression grave, as though she was gearing up for the most important moment of her life. Ben was looking very sleepy in Larissa’s arms, his head resting against her chest and his eyelids heavy as Larissa shifted him subtly in her arms.
“You can put him down if he’s getting too heavy, you know,” you murmured. “He’s got legs, he’s old enough to stand for a minute.”
Larissa looked mildly offended. “No, he’s alright,” she insisted with a shake of her head, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “I don’t mind.”
You rolled your eyes and let out a playful huff. “Suit yourself, just don’t complain when your arms are sore tomorrow. You shouldn’t let my sister’s kids wrap you around their little fingers like that, they’re spoiled rotten enough as is.”
Larissa rolled her eyes right back, a witty retort no doubt forming on the tip of her tongue, though you’d never hear it — the elf standing at the front of the queue cleared his throat and approached Alice in that moment.
“Are you ready to meet Santa?”
She nodded shyly, a look of trepidation crossing her face. You knelt down beside her, her hand squeezing yours in a death grip.
“You’ll be okay,” you whispered encouragingly, trying to push her towards the old man sat waiting for her.
“Would you like your mommies to come with you?” the elf interjected.
“Oh, we’re not–” The words died on your tongue as Alice nodded absently, eyes still fixed nervously on Santa, and suddenly the elf was jerking his head at you and Larissa, as if to say ‘the queue is long, get on with it.’
You glanced almost helplessly at over your shoulder, your eyes wide, but Larissa seemed to be taking everything in stride, following you and Alice over to Santa.
Another elf helped your niece onto Santa’s lap and, after she stuttered out her wishlist, Larissa placed Ben on Santa’s other knee. The two of you stood aside, shoulder to shoulder, as yet another elf took a photo of your niece and nephew on Santa’s lap. You were starting to sweat beneath your coat, and Larissa’s body heat so close to you wasn’t helping the matter. Alice wriggled herself free from Santa’s lap the moment the photo was done and ran up to Larissa, tugging at her coat. You collected Ben and followed Larissa and Alice to a more quiet corner to regroup.
Would you like your mommies to come with you? And you hadn’t said anything, Alice hadn’t said anything. Even Larissa hadn’t said anything. The elf could have assumed that you were friends, or cousins, or anything really. But he assumed you were a couple. You supposed that was a good thing — if this stranger thought you two were a couple, surely your family was buying into the lie as well. A lie that was, slowly but surely, making you feel sick to your stomach.
“Are you alright?” You jumped as Larissa’s hand came to rest on your lower back — your grip on Ben had tightened and he was starting to get fussy, and you hadn’t even realized, as deep in thought as you were. You met Larissa’s gaze, and you wished you hadn’t. There was a deep crease between her brows, her eyes were wide and imploring, swimming with concern, her lips turned into a frown. Her thumb ran across your lower back, back and forth and back and forth, as heat prickled at the back of your neck. Your stomach turned, you suddenly felt very ill.
“It’s a bit hot in here,” you remarked faintly.
“It’s terribly stuffy,” Larissa agreed, though there was something in her gaze that you couldn’t quite place as she eyed you carefully, her eyes narrowing slightly. She cocked her head to one side. “I’ll take Ben and wait with Alice for Deanna, you go outside for a moment.”
You let her take your nephew in your arms, nodding as you turned robotically and headed for the nearest exit, her gaze burning a hole into the back of your head as you went. It was absolutely freezing outside, the wind was blowing snowflakes across the parking lot, but it did wonders for your nausea. Wiping your clammy palms on the sides of your coat, you sat down on a bench and waited for your family to come out and meet you.
Your family, and Larissa.
It was terribly selfish of you, you realized in that moment, to have Larissa keep up the charade for you like this. Instead of having a fun, relaxing Christmas, she was being subjected to all sorts of embarrassing family antics, Christmas parties with people she didn’t know, childcare for children who weren’t her responsibility. All because you had been too chicken to correct your mother when she thought you had gotten a girlfriend.
Larissa seemed to be enjoying herself alright, but you had your doubts. At the Christmas party after you’d kissed her. When you were forced to lie in bed together the following morning. Listening to your mom go on and on about your ex. Those moments in which Larissa seemed distant — the same moments in which you felt like you wanted her near.
And what made the guilt even worse? You were having the time of your life. You liked having Larissa around. You liked the way that she fit into your family, and into your life. You liked watching her dote on Alice, and on Ben, you liked watching her talk to your sister, or to your parents. You liked seeing her in your childhood home, at the kitchen table, drinking out of what had been your favorite mug a decade ago, as if she belonged there. You liked lying awake at night staring up at those old, faded glow-in-the-dark stars, listening to her breathe, knowing she was staring up at the same stars.
It made you sick to your stomach to think she didn’t like all of that quite as much as you did.
“There you are, you okay?” Your sister’s voice broke you out of your reverie — you hadn’t heard her approach, her children and Larissa in tow.
“Yeah, fine, it was just too stuffy.”
“Dan’s just loading the bags into the car, he’ll pull it around.”
As you stood, Larissa came around to your side and placed a firm, steadying hand on your elbow. You smiled gratefully, almost in spite of yourself.
“Dan wanted to take the kids ice skating,” Deanna started. “Do you guys want to come or should we drop you at home first?”
Your questioning gaze met Larissa’s, searching. She smiled, giving you a slight nod, though her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t mind, are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah…” You felt yourself blush at Larissa’s concern. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
When Dan pulled the car around to the mall’s entrance, you and Larissa climbed into the back while Deanna secured the kids in their car seats. Larissa was cramped in the back seat, her long legs bent at an awkward angle, her knee pressed against your thigh. Your fingers twitched in your lap, you wanted so much to reach out and touch her, to get closer to her… Screw it. You rested your hand on her leg, hesitantly, then watched as she covered it with her own. She smiled at you — a small smile, warm and comforting, her face at ease. You smiled back, that dizzy feeling from earlier returning, and rested your head against her shoulder, solid and grounding — you weren’t quite sure what had gotten into you, but you hoped she would attribute your physical neediness to not feeling well.
The back seat of your sister’s SUV was like a bubble of your own making. You could hardly focus on the conversation she was having with her husband, on the chatter of your niece and, to a lesser extent, your nephew, on the music playing on the radio. Instead, you felt a sleepy, dreamy sort of weightlessness with your head against Larissa’s shoulder, with her warm palm cupping your hand, the soft wool of her coat beneath your fingertips. You could feel every breath she took, the sweet, flowery scent of her perfume lulling you into a daze — every so often, when the car hit a pothole or turned a corner, your head bounced, bringing you even closer to Larissa, your hair grazing her cheek. And she sat there, looking out the window, her thumb brushing rhythmic strokes across your knuckles. It nearly made you fall asleep, and you were more than reluctant to leave the car when you arrived at the ice skating rink.
Inside, it took you twice as long as usual to lace up your skates — you were too busy watching Larissa help Alice with hers, knelt in front of the little girl, her nimble fingers doing up the laces carefully, pulling them tight, knotting them securely, checking the fit around each of Alice’s feet. She took your niece’s hands, helped her up, watched her like a hawk as she took a few steps to make sure they weren’t too loose.
In that time, you’d only managed to lace up one of your skates halfway.
“I guessed your shoe size, I hope they fit okay,” Deanna said, offering Larissa a pair of ice skates — Larissa looked up at her from where she was still crouched down, her eyes wide.
“Oh no, I’ll just be watching.” She insisted firmly, a polite smile settling on her face. Alice scurried up to her as fast as she was able in her skates.
“You don’t wanna skate?” She looked like a wounded puppy, and Larissa glanced at you nervously. Alice followed her gaze, turning her puppy dog eyes on you. “Make Auntie Rissy skate with me.”
That nauseating, guilty feeling simmered low in your belly again when Alice called Larissa “Auntie Rissy”, but you ignored it this time, suppressing a smile at Larissa’s helpless expression — she was usually so confident and in control, and it was a bit comforting to see that even Larissa Weems wasn’t perfect all the time.
“If Auntie Larissa doesn’t want to skate, then we can’t make her,” you said gently. Alice frowned, turning to Larissa with a big pout that made you giggle. You smirked and added, “I don’t know how you can say no to her, though.”
“I can’t,” Larissa said with a resigned frown, settling on the bench and taking off her heeled boots. Alice squealed in delight, her entire demeanor changing in a heartbeat. You couldn’t help but laugh at your niece and, when you caught Larissa’s gaze again, she sighed softly — then her gaze fell to your skates and she let out a huffed laugh. “Don’t tell me you can’t tie your own skates either?”
A crimson flush spread across your cheeks — you’d been distracted, and, as it stood, had managed to tie a wonky knot into one of them and were still playing absently with the laces of the second. “I can tie my own skates just fine,” you grumbled. Larissa chuckled softly, a smile returning to her face — the twitch of her lips made you feel warm.
Ik its not Gwen or Larissa content, i’ve been a little busy but i wanted to share my ocs… i havent had ocs in a couple years so im still setting off somethings like theyr names lol, AND ALSO SOME NEWS, ill be seeing CHAPPELL ROAN LIVE NEXT MARCH ‼️‼️ GAHHHH Im SO excited i never dreamed that she would come to my country and i cant wait to see her in personnnn
You can tell me she’s an Omega and yes I would probably agree with you. However, my own libido sees a prissy Alpha with a sassy chip on her beautiful shoulder. And believe me when I say that if anyone is a good Alpha - a good mate, it’s Larissa fucking Weems. So jot that down for starters.
Alpha!Larissa Weems Headcanons
NSFW, lesbian (wlw), G!P Larissa Weems
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Oh does she take care of you… her darling girl… her sweetheart. You are more to her than an omega, a person she’s destined to fuck and have children with. You are her entire world. It goes beyond destiny and bonds and carnal desires. She is quite seriously, quite genuinely, till the end of the line, in love.
⟡ So it’s not hard to show her affection for you. At times, she can be shy, but when you get comfortable around one another… she’s relentless. And very suave about it, too. Her compliments are teasing, but heartfelt, and she always sports a smug little smirk when she gets you to tuck your chin down because you’re flustered. Expect over 5 compliments a day — on anything. Your outfit, your hair, your voice, your eyes, whatever you’ve just said, how you’ve cut your toast. Of course you tease back, but when she tilts her head in that way she does and her blue eyes are so intense… you can’t help but stumble a little over your words, so they’re simply not as effective.
⟡ Which is not to say Larissa Weems isn’t effected by you. Because she is. Very much so. You are the first contact in her ‘favourites list’, practically on speed dial, you are the only person who doesn’t drain her social battery (which does indeed have a firm limit), you are rarely ever a thought put on the back burner of her mind (and when you are, it’s because she’s dealing with a work crisis). Larissa Weems is infatuated—and when she has all of your attention, it’s difficult not to preen like an alpha. Puff her chest the tiniest bit, stand a little taller, speak a little firmer. If she had a tail, it would wag like mad every time you relied on her, every time you asked for her opinion or her help. Every time you used her name.
⟡ And you best believe that she’s a blushing alpha. It’s not really something she can hide without using her ability—her skin is so fair and she is an expressive woman. So yes, when you do something to fluster her, or call her out for some sort of lovey-dovey behaviour, her chest and her ears, above all else, go a bit pink. Then red, depending on how embarrassed she gets. It’s actually very cute because she pouts a lot as well—without even realizing.
⟡ Which leads me to my next point: Larissa Weems does not fit the alpha stereotype of being aggressive and possessive. She’s not a brooding, heavy force or a particularly threatening presence because it’s simply not in her nature. Her pride is too great, her aesthetic too well-formed, her heart too soft. She’s not eager to fight other alphas or flaunt your relationship—she respects both of you too much. Not to mention she is a private person. Your combined business is your combined business and she doesn’t want anyone knowing about the tender things. You have her mating mark, you hold her hand, you have the lingering scent of alpha on you that all taken omegas have. And that’s enough for her. She won’t be hunting anyone down. And if she did, she’d rather hire a hitman.
⟡ That scent you carry around as well, a gentle drape over your very being, your clothes, lingering even under your perfume, it’s a scent all hers. Unique. Light. Sexy. Citrus, sandalwood, and flowers. She scents you a lot, but 7 times out of 10, it’s unintentional—hugs and nuzzles before parting for the day, rubbing her hands against your arms and your shoulders, cupping your face while speaking to you on occasion, she’s just an affectionate woman. It’s not her fault her natural instinct is to scent her sweet girl. To surround you with her claim in a way that’s not imposing and gauche. If anything, Larissa is very subtle about it, and you have become so familiar with the smell that you don’t often realize the scent is stronger than normal until you see people who stand a little bit too close start to wrinkle their noses. When you do recognize the reaction, you’re suddenly reminded of earlier that morning when you were brushing your teeth and Larissa had put her chin on your shoulder and gently leaned her head against yours with a sleepy smile. Your cheeks were rubbing together. She was practically purring!
You end up (gently) scolding her over text. “Keep your scent to yourself next time, missy. A coworker pulled a gross face while we were in the elevator.”
Larissa’s response comes a few minutes later and all it says is: “🤷♀️”
⟡ Larissa Weems might not be that aggressive domineering alpha, but she definitely makes all of the noises. When she’s irritated, frustrated, or angry, she will be growling and snarling and yes the decibel level changes depending on how bad it is. At her worst, it’s a deep guttural huffing and panting, prolonged and dragged out, an indicator of brewing anger, at her best it’s an irritated grunt or two, quick and momentary. She also purrs. A sweet feminine purr, light and breathy, usually when she’s on the edge of sleep, extremely comfortable, or using it as a way to calm you down. Her noises, no matter what kind, are actually quite endearing. Such a huge contrast to the sweetness of her. And the meaner bits, the growls or snarls, are rarely directed towards you and always directed towards some sort of work issue. She has to swallow her noises a lot when meeting with some particularly infuriating people, being careful not to secrete too many angry pheromones either. Also—when she’s rumbling/growling without realizing, perhaps quite focused in writing a heavily worded email, then the very second she does come to her senses and hear herself, she’ll stop instantly, throw a hand over her mouth for a second, blush, and clear her throat. Sometimes she argues with a fury that she doesn’t make those sounds, but you both know that she definitely does.
⟡ You can stray in public, sure, but she always likes to have at least one eye on you if you slip away too far. She starts getting a little nervous when she can’t spot you, but it only shows in a slight freezing of her expression and a quick end to whatever conversation she’s having so she can go off looking for you. It’s the furthest you’ll see in regards to outward possession, and even when she finds you, she doesn’t get angry or demand where you went, she just sighs a little in relief and you, desperate to calm her nerves, give a small reassuring nod of your head — as if to say “I’m still here, alpha, don’t worry.” This whole aspect of her anxiety is built purely around previous events in her life. Trauma, bad luck with lovers, etc. — and now she’s found her mate and she wants to protect you, even if it’s only in the form of making sure she can still smell you nearby.
⟡ Though for all of the lovely things about her, Larissa-Sassy-Pants-Femme-Weems does have a few flaws:
1. She’s got unspoken house rules to maintain the order in her life and if you’re not a rule-follower or if you’re a messy (/unorganized) girl, trust that you will be having many a conversation about “Why it’s important to keep things neat and tidy! You can’t just throw things anywhere!” — And then Larissa gets those creases in her forehead and she’s raising her voice a little and it gets kinda squeaky and you just wanna kiss her stupid alpha face off. Especially when she starts speaking like one, demanding you pick your things up or make the bed or wipe the counter. Your omega does it, desperate to please, but you give her a firm hard glare all the while. Then she pats your head and calls you a good girl and suddenly life has never been better.
2. She works long hours and is always bloody doing something—it’s actually rather annoying at times. Emails, meetings, phone calls, parent-teacher affairs, student relations, etc. — Larissa Weems is a busy woman with a busy workload and sometimes, when the evening runs late, you do end up falling asleep alone in your nest, making soft noises while you hug the pillow that smells like her. And when she returns home (either an off-campus home or the apartment next door), kicking off her heels before straightening them in the hall and putting her things down, she’s got a frown on her face. She loses track of time on occasion, and when you’re asleep before she returns, her pheromones are sad and disappointed and full of guilt. But there’s never a night where she doesn’t hold you close and whisper a soft goodnight and give you a kiss on the forehead. It's a comforting thing to feel you turn into her, snuggling closer to your mate. She always falls asleep purring.
3. She hates feeling or looking or seeming too desperate, so when the time for her rut comes around, Larissa suppresses her desires almost subconsciously. Aside from being busy and forcing herself to work through any discomfort, the woman doesn't like the idea of putting you on the spot or inducing your heart too early, so she will keep walking until the race against time leaves her overwhelmed and nearly in tears. It's a side effect of her heritage as well, hiding her nature around people because alphas have always had a rocky reputation and, being a sucker for acceptance and praise, Larissa didn't want to risk anyone thinking of her as anything less than perfect. However, that was in her Nevermore days, and she has since gotten a bit better around you, but old habits do die hard. And no matter how many times you reassure her, coaxing her into a gentle rut, trying to pin-point the time of year when it rears its sexy (but sometimes uncomfortable) head, Larissa still ends up on her knees on the bed, tears in her eyes, waiting for you to get home so you can give her some relief.
⟡ She's a sexy alpha, of course. Like - undeniably sexy. Like - flushed twitching cock pressing a hard outline against white lace panties, already drooling at the tip, eager for your touch and warmth kind of sexy. She is the perfect example of a femme alpha mixed with a soft domme, all teasing whispers and low growling demands and red lipsticked kisses and rough presses of her teeth against your flesh. Those blue eyes of hers get so dark, overwhelmed with lust, tracing your body desperately. And Larissa really can't help but make it known when she needs you -- aside from the previously mentioned blush, her hands also start to shake a little, her shoulders get tense, her nostrils flare, her gaze darkens, her lips twitch, almost like they want to pull into a snarl, but instead she sets them into a firm line because she doesn't want to be overwhelming right off the bat.
⟡ But, when you're in the middle of things, writhing beneath her, bearing your neck and whimpering her name, whining "Alpha" into her mess of platinum locks, the beast that stalks underneath her skin, singing for you, begging for you, crawls its way up to the surface - and suddenly you find yourself tugged into all sorts of positions, held in place by strong eager hands, sharp pink fingernails digging into your hips, your thighs, your shoulders, the pouch of your tummy, caressing and feeling and reveling all at the same time.
There might be teeth at your neck, biting softly at first, a kinder pressure, a suggestion of another mating mark, until that instinct kicks in and she finds every part of her body burning to claim you once more. It's no question, of course --- no use in asking or answering. Her eyes roll back and her legs lock up and she's slowly pressing them deeper, deeper, deeper, until there's pain and rumbling; a deep happy mix of a growl and purr vibrating from Larissa's throat as she begins biting over the scar of her previous mating mark. All at once, you cum together.
⟡ A few kinks I think Alpha!Larissa Weems would have...:
- Breeding kink. She wants you to have her children, she wants to fill you up and fuck you full and keep you fed and healthy. She doesn't demand it of you - she asks, very nicely, but already knows what the answer will be.
"Please- d-darling- let me- I need to fill you, my love... give you my pups-" and it comes out as a whine and a growl at the same time and she's shuddering and she smells so good and it feels so good and she's big and warm inside you and what else are you to say aside from "Yes god- please breed me, Larissa- p-please Alpha-"
- Size kink. I bet you're probably shorter than her, hm? She likes that, even though she keeps it to herself. Everyone notices her natural height---it's one of her most obvious features---so she doesn't need to talk about it unnecessarily... except when she thinks about it to herself while looking down at you.
Seeing you peer back up at her, feeling your arms around her waist and your forehead under her chin, delighting in the times you lie together in bed and your legs tangle and hers are so much longer and when one wraps around your thigh and you find yourself tugged into a languid, slow, messy kiss... well she thinks about those things often. And though I mentioned that her protective streak doesn't work the same way as most alphas, she likes being taller than you because it fulfills that subtle dominating feeling of having power. Not the type of power to hold over you (unless consented), but the type of power that subtly allows others to know that you are hers without her needing to make a big statement.
Not to mention when you're both in the mood and you treat her with your mouth, sitting on your knees, lips at cock-height, giving her puppy eyes as she slides such gentle hands into your hair and guides you in a gentle bob. She adores the sight of it. And the feel of it. And how cute and fuckable you look when you present for her, either on your stomach or your back, spreading your legs while she gives you a satisfied hum and a deep smirk, towering over you when she stands, but also when she prowls, going on all fours to hover, to kiss, to tease you with all of her touches until you're two steps away from hysterical.
- Titles. If you want a one-way ticket to riling up the great and marvelous Larissa Weems, then you should look no further than simply calling her by her title. Alpha. It sounds cliche, but walk with me darling.
You're about to leave the house. Larissa is dressed, potting around in the kitchen, putting dishes away, double checking her laptop bag, fixing her hair in the mirror, and she gives you your mug of ice water and your mug of coffee and with a proud, warm smile on her face, she takes your cheeks into her hands and gives you a soul-completing kiss. Firm, loving, all of her soul poured into it. She slept well the night before, her arms wrapped around you so well, and woke up with a hum in her voice and a pep in her step. An impending good day, it seemed. Stress and tension free.
And then you slide away from your kiss, giving her the most mesmerized eyes, staring up at your lover as though she were a gift from Heaven --- and she gives you one of her winning sparkling grins and you can't help but lean up on the tips of your toes, peck her on the cheek, and whisper a soft "Thank you, Alpha." before turning away to go slip into your shoes.
She's frozen. Red-cheeked. Lips parted, nostrils flaring instantly, chest heaving the tiniest bit, staring into space like you've just rewritten the fabric of reality. Playing it over in her head. Feeling the elation of her soul. Thank you, Alpha. Thank you, Alpha. The praise she needed.
- Praise. It gets her hot, hard, and ready. She nearly sweats out of her skin when you start complimenting her, telling her she's such a good alpha, takes care of you so well, looks after you, provides. Because even Larissa Weems isn't immune to the rush of being told she's done a good job. Especially from her mate.
And if she had ears, they'd flatten as she turns bashful, looking away, hiding a soft smile, biting her bottom lip, trying not to squeal or sigh happily as you express your gratitude. It is very important as an alpha, after all, to know that she's giving her omega---her mate---everything she needs. Larissa likes to be relied upon anyway, even without her secondary sex involved, and enjoys being a reliable person and shoulder to cry on. To have your respect, your trust, your vulnerability, and to hear you notice all of the things she does, it gets her soft and desperate very quickly. Almost embarrassingly quickly. Seriously, if you mention it, she'll get a sour look on her face for two seconds before pouting and tilting her nose up haughtily.
If you praise her during sex? While she's treating you? Fucking you so well, hitting that sweet spot deep inside, making you see stars, and you tell her in whining pants, "Such a good alpha, Larissa... m-make me feel- feel so fucking good," and you're sparkling with sweat and gripping her, tugging her closer, then you should not be surprised if she lets out a high whimper into your neck and cums on the spot, hips jogging messily to meet your desire. When I say she's sensitive to praise from you, as her lover, then I mean it.
⟡ Alpha!Larissa Weems always knows when your heat comes around. If she doesn't have it written down because the dates are unpredictable and it comes at a different time, then she can usually smell it. And she lets you know, too.
With a soft touch on your shoulder, tucking you closer into her side while you read together. She sniffs, just to double check the theory that's been swirling in her head all day, and then nods to herself. "You have about a week before your heat becomes serious, my love. Perhaps we can go shopping tomorrow to pick up anything you might need?" She's so soft and kind, so loving. You end up closing your book and turning to her, focusing all of your attention, before narrowing your eyes.
"You're a creep, you know that? Stalking my heat. Pervert."
Her eyes go wide, her mouth falls open, she practically guffaws in your face. "Excuse me? It is-"
"You're excused."
"It is my responsibility to make sure you're safe and comforted in your time of-"
"Safety, shmafety, you just want to get in my pants, Larissa Weems."
"Oh, I see, and you don't want to get into mine?"
"We're not talking about me right now."
"But we can. In fact, we have all the time in the world to talk about your little fantasies and how I can practically see them play out behind your eyes whenever you see me walk into a room."
"Oh don't flatter yourself, Alpha! I'm not-"
"See? You can't even resist the chance to reaffirm the natural hierarchy."
"Oh please. Natural hierarchy, my ass. You're so-"
"Omega." She interrupts and points to you, long finger straight and unwavering. Dark eyes dripping intensity. And before you can blink, her finger flicks back to point at herself, nearly jabbed into her own chest. "Alpha." There's a pause. "If you have any complaints about that," she tilts her head, staring at you through painted lashes, lips pursed and brows low, "then I suggest you consult your inner bitch first before making any rash decisions."
Blushing, lost for words, and sufficiently silenced, you huff and pick up your book again, very aware that it's only a matter of minutes before you throw a leg over her lap, mount her, and beg for her attention.
⟡ Larissa praises you, too. She's not big on degradation - she prefers to call you her good girl, her sweet omega, obedient, beautiful... she's not inclined to use harsh language. But regardless of what you want, she will do her best to deliver. Sex as an alpha and omega is first and foremost more than an act of breeding and creating -- it can be fun, too, and just done for the sake of it rather than with the purpose in mind to knot and cuddle. This also leaves the opportunity for BDSM and power dynamics to work their way in. It's something that is kept strictly to the bedroom and your cellphones because Larissa takes her job and her position very seriously. She doesn't want to risk anything personal getting out that could possibly put your relationship in any danger, so you respect her wishes and understand that your play is for your eyes only. Which doesn't mean it only has to happen in the bedroom of your house. She doesn't mind making you gag on her fingers on top of the kitchen counter, you know.
⟡ Larissa also doesn't share. She's never been very keen on it. And even though alpha/omega dynamics usually call for monogamy, it's just all the more enforced in your relationship. You belong to each other as lovers, as partners, friends, and equals --- there is no room for anyone else.
⟡ Sometimes, she hisses and bears her teeth when she gets frustrated.
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Let me know what you think about this? I believe Larissa Weems would be an amazing alpha. I want to kiss her so terribly. - Rip x
