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wheneclipsefalls · 4 months

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Courting Spider

Pairing: Spider x Na'vi Male OC

Masterlist AO3

Summary: It's time that someone takes care of Spider for once. Zhali is up for the task.

Warnings: aged up Spider/Sully kids, explicit, MDNI, male x male, size difference, Na'vi x human pairing, oral, insecurities, angst, trauma, injury, blood, perfectionism, Spider just needs to be loved, etc.

A/N: Wow, this took a while but it is finally here. Not too confident with some of the writing style for ths one but hopefully it still makes sense.

“What about the back panel?”

“Useless.” Zhali quickly interjects, weaving the soft fabric together with practiced precision. Lo’ak huffs slightly, titling his head as he watches the male work on the small piece of clothing.

“He’s not going to wear it with his ass out, brother.”

Zhali rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He will never understand the Sky Demon’s obsession with modesty. Clothing should allow one to move freely and if it shifts from one way to the other, so what? Who would truly notice, anyways?

Well, he supposes, were it Spider he himself would notice.

And suddenly all that Zhali can think about is getting a glimpse of the little Tawtute’s bum, just another peek at that beautifully soft and squishing form of his. As tempting as the idea is, however, it does have him editing his original claim. If he has interest in seeing that sculpted ass, surely other Na’vi or even Sky Demons could have the same intentions.

He decides to weave together a back panel after all. Besides, once the small Sky Demon has been courted and agrees to mate with him, it may be more rewarding to have that area of his mate revealed to his eyes only. That thought has the slightest curve of a smile lacing his lips.

Lo’ak, as always, is one to notice the shift in demeanor, but he pays the other male no mind. After all, there would have been no chance of executing this courting properly without Lo’ak’s insights. Zhali thanks the Great Mother that he has close enough ties with someone Spider considers his best friend. Otherwise, how else would he know how to make a loincloth for the boy in the first place? Or not to leave dead kills at the outpost’s front entrance as a courting gift?

Lo’ak’s information is irreplaceable. It’s hard enough to wrap his mind around the different customs and concerns of a small tawtute, let alone court one without any insight in the first place.

Although it may seem unconventional to some Na’vi, opinions that he has heard personally from some friends and family, Zhali knows that there is no one else for him besides Spider.

He can still recall the spark of interest that had been there during their adolescence, watching the small boy with golden hair saunter across the forest confidently. He had moved with a grace and agility that Zhali had never witnessed from a Tawtute. Back then, his small crush was poorly nourished as his parents tried their hardest to keep him from spending too much time around Sky Demons. Searching to become a warrior and clan member that would make his parents proud, Zhali had refrained from stepping out of bounds.

There were small moments he had caught with the so-called monkey boy, but it was always in the presence of others.

The night of Spider’s capture had been a core memory for Zhali. He recalls it as the night he truly began his path to adulthood. Regret and dread had laced his gut as he realized his own cowardice had broken any real chance at connecting with the other male. It shifted his perspective, pushing him forward until he had made himself a promise that night.

Never again would he let criticism and judgment keep him from following his heart’s desires.

It was only the direct command and even surveillance from the new Olo’eyktan that had kept him from storming Hell’s gate as a one man army.

Those years apart had been painful, but they had shaped him into the man he is today, the man he needed to become. There had been slight relief that came from hearing of Spider reuniting with the Sully family across the sea. However, he could never erase the sting of missed opportunity.

Following the footsteps of his father and other warriors, Zhali had channeled this pressing emotion into his training. The sun would barely be upon the horizon before Zhali began his daily grind. He had excelled in every aspect that a young warrior could, spending extra hours training alone with only the glowing light of eclipse for aiding sight. When he had pushed himself in every aspect of hunting, fighting, and gathering possible he had moved on to homemaking skills.

Now, sitting here with only a few months of weaving underneath his fingertips, he’s proud to find the garment an attractive item thus far. A surprising fact considering how his discipline and attention has slipped upon the Sully family’s return. Or rather, Spider’s return.

Seeing the small tawtute advance from behind the Sully family, hair somehow turned a lighter shade of gold and arm adorned with shelled jewelry, Zhali had felt like a child once more. The Great Mother had been kind to him, advancing his form into that of a true muscled warrior and adorning him with skills that were far beyond anything the could’ve dreamed about at fifteen, but none of that seemed to matter when faced with Spider once more. His stomach had tightened into a million different knots, tail swinging and ears flickering desperately as he took in the beautiful male before him.

Although taken aback and slightly nervous, something he would never admit, Zhali had expressed these emotions in the best way he knew how; hard work. The family had only been home for little more than a moon cycle but the male’s courting plans were already underway. His consultation with Lo’ak had informed him that the beautiful tawtute was in fact still unmated. He figured that the Metkayina Na’vi knew nothing of real value placed in their laps if they had somehow managed to miss courting such an exquisite creature.

Nevertheless, he is grateful for their insolence.

The yearnings of his heart have never ceased and Zhali would have his soul taken up to Eywa before he’d let this chance slip away again.

“You’re sure about this color?” He murmurs, concentrating on the intricate trim to lace the sides. Next to him Lo’ak lounges along the marui floor with one leg propped as he bites into the delicious fruit he missed oh so much. Golden eyes flicker over to the intricate pattern of green material, different shades popping out in precise patterns.

“Well he did complain about there not being enough green on Awalatuu.”

“I asked you what his favorite color was.” Zhali huffs out, finally letting the unfinished garment rest on his lap. Lo’ak hardly flinches under the glare he receives, simply shrugging his shoulders before continuing to eat.

“I know. Figure it must be green if he complained about its absence so much.”

It’s not fair to bite back at the hand that feeds him. Zhali knows this. He repeats it in his head over and over again. If there is one thing that he has learned about Spider it’s that no one treats the poor boy the way he deserves. Lo’ak and Kiri are the closest things that the small human has to friends, but even they have other parts of their lives that pull their attention away from him. There are always other obligations and personal problems that come first before Spider and to Zhali’s dismay, the boy accepts it.

Being left in the shadows is something that has become natural to Spider in his life. The Sully family takes him in, but never with the attitude of treating him like their very own. The scientists at the lab have watched over him since he was a child but not one of them was truly a parent. They too, have their own worries and concerns. Most are too focused on their own research and work to really prioritize raising a child.

That familiar lingering of guilt resurfaces when Zhali remembers that he too let Spider remain hostage with those Demons for months on end, not one rescue party sent after him.

It’s a fact that haunts him to this day, but he vows to leave all those mistakes behind. Spider will be safe and taken care of in his arms, by his side and treated with the love and respect that he deserves. For the first time in the boy’s life, he will know what it means to be someone’s first priority.

Spider can still feel Neteyam’s curious glances thrown his way as they walk silently back to the human outpost. With the small bundle of fine fabric carefully clasped in his hands, it feels like a small eternity before the human boy can comprehend the turn of events. Upon his return to the Omatikaya clan Spider had assumed that most outside of a few humans from the lab outpost would remember him, let alone receive a courting gift from one of the clan’s finest Na’vi males.

Is that what this is? A courting gift?

Although, Zhali had used all the proper words one would upon extending a courting gift and beaming at Spider’s acceptance, it’s still difficult to be one hundred percent certain that is what had occurred. The ogling he had done over the garment in front Zhali had been taken in with a smile bursting of pride that seared into Spider’s countenance. The blush that erupted over his tan skin wasn’t even comprehensible until the heat was enough to have him sweating underneath the glass of his mask.

Looking back, Spiders knows that his gratitude had been little more a stumbling of thank you’s and rambled thoughts that hardly finished into full sentences. It didn’t seem to matter, however, as Zhali had left the pair with a stride that made him look as if he was walking on clouds. Truthfully, Spider often makes that comparison when watching the male prance along the forest with ease. He wouldn’t necessarily call it ogling….just keen observations that he can’t help but make.

Neteyam had been almost entirely silent during the exchange and when Zhali had broken away, his only comment had been something about the smooth fabric being made of rare materials only present in the Hallelujah mountains. Spider had done nothing more than nod in response. Now, meeting up with Lo’ak once more, Neteyam jumps in to relay the scene to his younger brother. Lo’ak simply smirks and shoots Spider a wink.

It punches through his blood and once again Spider finds sweat gathering at the edges of his mask. He knows his friend better than he would like to at times, so he knows that looks like that always come with a reason from Lo’ak. He seems neither surprised nor reluctant to let that signature smirk show.

Perhaps it isn’t in his head after all.

A courting gift for him.

Made specifically for him.

It’s disheartening when Spider realizes that he never expected to receive one of these.

He makes an excuse about needing rest in order to get away from the Sully brothers as soon as possible. Once back inside the common area of the outpost, he flings the sweat mask off of his face and to the side carelessly.

“Spider.” Norm sighs from his work station. No words are needed to show that he does not approve of the boy’s disregard of the equipment.

“Busy.” Spider rushes out before practically sprinting to his room. That is if it can be called a room. It’s a corner of the outpost that Spider had managed to claim for himself with old drapes hung up messily for privacy and a hammock strung up that he had made himself. His greatest and most rare possession however was a floor length mirror. Spider had gone through Hell and back in order to get it here. And by Hell, he meant literal Hell’s Gate where the RDA had left their fancy gear behind the first time.

He rushes to throw the bag of fruit to the side and shuffles himself over onto the bed. The soft cloth is unfolded as if he is about to handle the rarest of Pandora’s diamonds and to Spider it might as well be. Perhaps even more valuable considering the rarity.

The fabric slipped along his fingers like the sway of a rushing river, a smooth effortless motion. His own grimy hands caked with dirt and a hint of blood from rough housing with Neteyam look horrifying next to the carefully crafted garment. In fact, it’s enough to have Spider setting the piece to the side and rushing to the bathroom so he can wash his hands. It would be a shame to ruin the loincloth so quickly simply because of his bad hygiene.

Stomping past Norm and the other lounging scientists he tries to ignore him.

“Kid, what have I told you about leaving your mask on the ground?” Norm huffs but Spider is already closing the door to the cramped bathroom.

He may have been a teenager when he was captured by the RDA but now has come into full adulthood. Something Norm seems to have a hard time understanding. Spider doesn’t care how much water he hogs in order to get every speck of dirt and grime from his hands. He only leaves the cramped bathroom when his skin is scrubbed raw and red.

Leaning back against the woven hammock he allows himself the proper time to just admire the details of his new gift. It’s a beautiful emerald green with precise stitching that works to outline patterns of leaves and greenery. Under the harsh light of the outpost bulbs, the boy admires the way the thread glimmers with the shift of light. He thanks Eywa that it has a back panel. It may be something he is used to seeing with Na’vi but Spider can not imagine having his own ass hanging out of his loincloth, especially without a tail for it to wrap around.

Once he finally wrangles up the courage to try on the loincloth he is amazed to see how perfectly it fits. The fabric is like silk against his rough skin. Or at least what he remembers silk to feel like from that one time another scientist let him touch her silk pillowcase. The band is woven of various colored threads and twine that come together to create criss cross patterns. His fingers brush them softly in a silent reverence.

Spider looks at the mirror and allows himself to drink in the sight. Most days, the boy uses the mirror to simply swat at his dreadlock hair or repaint the blue stripes on his skin, but never can he remember a time that he uses it to admire himself. To look at his appearance head on and feel something more than indifference or longing to be a version of himself that is blue and a few feet taller.

Being a human is something that Spider has learned to make peace with, but that doesn’t mean he particularly likes the look of himself. The blue stripes help slightly to cover the extra squish of his body that is normally nonexistent across Na’vi stomachs. With the beautiful garment now fitted perfectly to his hips, Spider notices for the first time how good a color besides blue looks on him.

The heap of leather that is his usual loincloth seems like nothing more than a discarded washcloth now. Jake had been the one to show him how to weather the material and fashion it into clothing but from there the job had been his own to update the garment in stride with his growth spurts.

The loincloth is so clean and pristine in comparison to the rest of Spider’s appearance that for a moment he considers putting it away for safekeeping. What would happen if he tore a hole in it or got dirt rubbed into the careful stitching? It’s too beautiful to take the risk.

However, when his fingers start to undo the carefully tied knots at the sides, he catches another glance of himself in the mirror and he hesitates. It looks so much better than before. He looks so much better than before. Maybe it has nothing to do with the loincloth’s quality at all. Perhaps it’s the careful thought and effort put into such an extraordinary gift. A thought for him. Just him and only him.

One simple reminder that someone thinks he is worthy of nice things.

Spider allows himself the privilege of wearing this reminder throughout the day.

Zhali does not have many opportunities to spend time with Spider, especially without the company of others. Most nights he only gets to share a few sentence exchanges with the boy before either him or Spider is pulled away by their responsibilities or nagging friends. It doesn’t kill his spirits, however, not when he notices how beautiful the tawtute looks wearing his courting gift. Pride swells to the size of a balloon in his chest upon seeing how perfect the fit is. This feeling only inflates to new bounds when he sees Spider wear the garment every day without fail.

Having been entrusted with leading one of the hunting parties on a daily basis, Zhali finds himself daydreaming about the male between patrols and petting down the direhorse. The other Na’vi in the crew do not fail to notice his shift in demeanor. Although some of them spread rumors that it has to do with Zhali’s unbridled affection for a certain golden haired tawtute, no one goes out of their way too complain. Controversial or not, Zhali is more forgiving of their mistakes when he is in high spirits. It matters not that it comes from a small Sky Demon.

Lo’ak continues to assist Zhali in preparing another gift for Spider. This time they settle on weaving together a simple but stunning armband. Surprisingly this requires more experience and skill than the loincloth but he has never been one to back away from the struggle that comes from picking up a new trade. Zhali’s fingers work tirelessly as Lo’ak chatters on about the Metkayina clan and what adventures he missed.

Later that night Zhali listens to the encroaching thunder that rumbles in the distance. Even his direhorse hesitates in his stride but he urges him forward. There is less than an hour left of his patrol and then he will return to his carefully crafted hut to get some much needed rest. However, now the sound of thunder and lightning is becoming more pressing and the male becomes less and less sure of how soon that sleep will come.

It comes as no surprise when the first drops of rain quickly picks up into a full downpour. Lo’ak grumbles next to him, but Zhali ignores the other male’s mumbled curses and directs them to split up so more ground can be covered. They might as well check up on the family huts and make sure everyone has the sufficient coverings and supplies needed for the storm.

It’s when he’s wading through the heavy greenery and wiping water from his eyes that Zhali catches sight of something peculiar. He follows the movement of bushes slowly, urging the direhorse to tread carefully. With the blanket of falling rain it’s difficult to identify the small creature wading through the greenery. Judging by the amount of rustle it creates, Zhali concludes that the creature must be either injured or panicking in the storm. He urges the horse to prowl closer as the rain pelts against his back mercilessly.

It becomes near impossible to see anything in the thick greenery but there is a series of snapping branches and he watches as the beast comes tumbling down the hill. It rolls and crashes along the greenery before finally hitting the bottom of a tree trunk with a grunt. Through the thick sheet of rain, Zhali finally catches a glimpse of golden hair flying in the wind.

Spider!

He’s off the direhorse within a heartbeat and racking through the thick leaves moments later. Spider is sprawled out on the muddy ground, limbs stretched in every direction. The boy blinks, seemingly trying to comprehend the turn of events.

“Spider.” Unintentionally Zhali words come out as a hiss. The Na’vi searches over the boy’s body frantically to see if there are any fatal wounds. With limited light it’s difficult to fully see where the sources of blood are so he shifts to use his fingertips to feel for wounds. Spider simply groans and stares up at him through slitted eyes as Zhali weaves through his hair in search of a head injury. He prays to the Great Mother that he won’t find one.

The Sky Demon’s small body is covered in mud and littered with a plethora of bruises and bleeding scrapes. Luckily, none of these injuries appear to be more serious than the deeper cut over his shoulder. It will require bandaging and a series of healing ointments to prevent infection. Zhali is already running through the list of healing procedures he plans to execute on the boy when Spider’s voice finally breaks him out of the trance.

“Hey.” Spider speaks in a gravelly hushed tone. “I-I’m ok.” He goes to sit up but a large blue hand covering half of his chest, gently pushes him back down. “Sorry I just lost my grip….got a little disoriented but…yeah sorry.”

“You’re bleeding.” Zhali says bluntly.

Spider looks down to see a smear of red painting his shoulder. Zhali watches his reaction with perked ears and pointed tail on alert but Spider simply knits his brows together and shrugs. However, the small being is unable to hide the grimace that flashes across his features. It has become a real effort on Zhali’s part to learn the ways of reading human expression, especially ones covered by those ridiculous masks. It can be incredibly frustrating trying to read one’s reaction without a flickering tail or ears to give away the boy’s state.

“Oh shit, yeah, I guess I am. It’s ok…the outpost has a first aid kit so…”

It’s then Zhali’s turn to scrunch his features in confusion.

A first aid kit? Is that another one of those Sky Demon inventions those scientists are so fond of? Once Zhali had snuck down with Lo’ak and Neteyam when they were teens to the outpost and he had caught sight of things beyond his wildest imagination…or rather wildest horrors. He had watched as giant trunk shaped contraption fold around a human before sucking him into the wall. Lo’ak and Neteyam had later explained that these were the devices used by the Avatars to dream walk. Zhali could never erase how similar it had looked to the coffins that Jake had once described, the constricting box made to bury dead bodies.

Would they put Spider in there too? Or something else? Perhaps this first aid kit would be even worse.

No. He would not be returning to the outpost for those horrors. Zhali is more than capable of patching up the injuries and giving Spider the care he truly deserves.

“No need, come. I will take you home.” Zhali says while carefully helping the boy to finally sit up. Spider’s lips purse for a moment as if he is about to say something but he must have read that wrong because it disappears just as quickly as it came and the small tawtute remains silent.

It is, however, when Zhali easily lifts the male into his arms that Spider strings together a nervous onslaught of objections.

“Oh woah, hey it’s ok. I can walk. I-I’m not really that hurt-”

Lightning strikes across the night sky. Thunder is quick to follow and by the sounds of deep rumbling, Zhali is confident that the storm is only about to get worse. Spider squeaks when he is easily lifted onto the direhorse without response. The other male makes quick work of sliding in behind him and reconnecting tsaheylu before the direhorse becomes too freaked out by the tawtute’s presence. It’s almost second nature to slip his forearms securely around Spider’s waist, keeping him safely atop the creature.

He can feel the boy shiver in his embrace, but it’s difficult to tell whether it is from his touch or the relentless onslaught of rain.

“Thanks.” Spider’s mumble barely rings audible over the storm’s fury. The small sound still manages to bring a smile to Zhali’s face as he nods back in recognition and they begin their journey back towards the village.

Despite the fact that Spider is conscious and not nearly as injured as he could’ve been, he is anxious to get the human to the healer’s tent as soon as possible. This urgency only increases when he can physically feel the boy’s body shaking like a leaf in the wind. His arm tightens around the small male, hoping to let some of his own natural body heat transfer over to him. It’s disconcerting to see how easily a little tawtute can be affected by the elements. It serves as another reminder of how fragile the pretty boy truly is. It’s easy to forget at times when Spider is swinging from branches like a monkey, but now all he can see in his mind’s eyes is the replay of his small body tumbling down the steep decline helplessly.

It’s then that Zhalie remembers the cloak he has packed away by the saddle. He manages to wrap the thick fabric around both of them. It covers Spider completely and to the male’s delight he finds that the human curls up against his warm chest. He’s satisfied to find that this solution keeps the pelting rain from attacking Spider any further.

Zhali is made for these types of elements but he can only imagine how Spider’s small fragile body could be reacting to such harsh conditions. He makes a mental note to learn more about human anatomy in the coming days. Perhaps Lo’ak could arrange some sort of meeting with one of the remaining medical Sky Demons at the outpost. He hates the smell of chemicals and sterilized metal there but it would be preferable to the real feeling of inadequacy he has now.

To his horror Zhali finds that the pathway to Tshaik’s tents has already eroded into a rushing stream and the tent itself is completely abandoned. He checks in with the Olo’eyktan over the throat comm and comes to find that Mo’at has fled to higher ground with the injured and sick to wait out the storm. With Spider barely conscious in his curled up position against him, Zhali decides that the only logical course of action is to bring the boy back to his kelku for the night.

No matter, there are sure to be enough supplies at his home to patch Spider up and take care of him before the condition gets worse.

Or at least, that is what he mentally assures himself over and over again until they reach the trunk of his kelku.

Zhali is forced to let Spider crawl up the trunk himself as the tawtute is less than willing to let himself be carried again. He considers overriding this decision but he figures it’s already lucky enough that the blonde hasn’t insisted on being dropped off at the outpost instead. He takes the tender mercy in stride and makes sure to be below the boy in case he manage to slip, constantly ready to catch him if needs be.

Zhali is in full action mode as he goes about efficiently securing the waterproof drapes. Spider hangs back, awkwardly standing in the middle of the room. Once the task is finished he turns around to find the boy’s arms wrapped around himself, seemingly curling up in on himself as trembles still wrack his body. It is such stark contrast to the usual confident and sassy demeanor that Spider upholds. Whether it is from the cold or the slightly traumatic situation, Zhali vows to coax the boy into being at ease as soon as possible.

“I-it’s nice.” Spider manages to mumble out before audibly clearing his throat. Those hazel eyes roam over the darkened room as Zhali makes quick work of building a small fire and setting a pot of water over to warm. His own eyes stray from the fire to recall what state his kelku has been left in. Luckily, he has always had a knack for organization and creating a cozy environment in his home. Still, there is no saying what a Sky Person considers to be cozy when it comes to decor. He prays to Eywa that Spider’s preferences are not aligned with that of the suffocating and hard steel in the human outpost.

“Thank you.”

Spider tries to hide the wince that graces his features when he rolls his shoulder, but even in the dim glow of a fire, Zhali can clearly see the distress.

“Come. You are bleeding.” He motions Spider forward and luckily the boy does not protest.

Spider does, however, hesitate as those hazel eyes scan over the empty span thoughtfully. Zhali starts to think something is wrong but then it dawns on him. The boy’s body is speckled with mud and blood. Spider seems all too aware of this as he carefully squats over the clean woven floor.

Of course this must be just Spider’s way of trying to be a polite guest while in his home, but it frustrates Zhali more than he expects. The beautiful human squats over the woven material as if he is unworthy to touch it. This behavior extends to all aspects of their encounter in the space as Spider is more than cautious to let himself enjoy any of the comforting ambience that Zhali has created in the space. He creeps into the area like an intruder, waiting to be shooed away.

And it breaks Zhali’s heart. It shatters him to pieces to think that Spider would ever act in such a way when his presence alone is something to be celebrated. It’s borderline disappointing to think that Zhali has spent all this time over the past few weeks slowly preparing his kelku to become a welcoming place that Spider would be enticed to call his own someday, just for the boy to shy away from associating with it.

“Sit.” Zhali puts a little more intensity behind the words than intended. He mentally curses at himself when Spider flinches in response but the human is already setting himself down gently.

“The bleeding isn’t that bad.” Spider claims, but how would he know when the injury stretches across his right shoulder blade?

Zhali goes to see for himself, reaching his enormously large hands towards the small creature, but then he pauses.

“May I check?”

He idly notices that Spider’s breathing is no longer fogging up the glass of his mask? Has he stopped breathing? Was there something wrong with it? Oh Eywa, how does one fix that little thing if there is?

“Yeah.”

The response is more of a puff of air than real words. Zhali allows himself to breathe now.

Settling behind Spider feels natural and oddly comforting. He enjoys the way his body is haunched over the small blonde, as if he could create a Na’vi shield over the boy if any danger were to arise. The idea strokes his male pride for a moment until he remembers that he failed to shield Spider earlier. When…when he…

“How did this happen?”

“Well it was….you see….” Spider struggles before finally sagging with a sigh. “I fell.” Defeat is apparent in his tone.

Zhali can not decide if he finds this explanation better or worse than the images he had conjured up. The thought of thanator claws scraping at the small being was terrifying, but then again, is it not more concerning to see that a simple fall is all it takes to injure him? This beautiful tawtute truly is so fragile. A simple misstep is all it would take to put him in danger.

Spider appears to be thinking the same thing, but if the red cheeks and deep frown are anything to go by, it’s embarrassment rather than fear that rises to the surface.

“Tawtute, this cut is deep. From how high did you tumble?” He tries his best to clean the cut with the rag as gently as possible, monitoring every flinch and shudder that ripples through Spider.

“My bow got stuck up in the canopy. Thought I could get it down.”

“It is still there?”

Spider nods.

“We will get it in the morning.” Zhali concludes smoothly as he dips the soft cloth back into the now warmed water. He checks it against his own skin first. The male may not know much about human anatomy but it’s clear that their response to the elements is more dramatic than his own. He would hate to accidentally expose the boy to any more harsh temperatures for the night. Once it is sufficiently clear that the rag is at a soothingly warm degree, he begins to glide it over Spider’s back.

“Thanks I uh…I was kind of clumsy I guess. You don’t have to come with me in the morning though, I’m sure I can manage a bit better this time.” Spider rambles.

“I will not if you wish not for my company.”

“No no, it’s not that.” Zhali peeks around the boy’s shoulder easily, braids swinging down as he openly observes the male’s expression. Spider’s turn a brighter shade of pink. Zhali finds he quite likes that shade. “Of course I would love for you to come. I just uh don’t want to make you go out of your way for me.”

“You are never out of the way, Spider.” He sighs, tail curling in irritation. He shouldn’t need to make that clear, especially after efforts he has started towards his courtship. “You are the way.”

He surveys the boy’s expression, but without twitching ears and a moving tail to give him away, it feels impossible to sense the shift in emotion there. He slowly retreats, not wanting to scare him off any more with the staring, but he lingers just long enough to see Spider catch his bottom lip between those blunt teeth. It’s a cute habit that Zhali has noticed from him, but one that he is still trying to understand fully.

It’s obvious what his own response to the action is as his tewng grows uncomfortable, but that does little to help him decode Spider. Not to mention it makes him feel like an untrained teenager all over again, drooling at just about anything.

“Spider.”

He feels the boy straighten underneath his hands.

“Yeah?”

“What is your favorite color?”

“What?”

Zhali is pleased to find that the area around the wound is finally clean and ready for bandaging.

“Color. What is your favorite color?” He repeats. Spider only flinches slightly as he begins to lay the leaves covered in ointment over the small wound. He has to rip them into small pieces a few times so they don’t cover the whole expanse of Spider’s back. Doing so, however, draws his attention to the rest of the boy’s muddied and artificially stripped skin. Long fingers itch to reach for the warm rag again.

“I um…I don’t know. Never really thought about it before.”

Zhali’s eyebrows knit together. He is soon regretting his decision to sit behind the tawtute where he can’t even depend on the minor fluctuations of his small facial expressions for context. His tail thumps against the woven floor incidentally, but at least Spider can’t see that. When the urge becomes too strong, Zhali hesitantly starts running the warm cloth over the rest of Spider’s back.

“What do you say when people ask?” He takes Spider’s lack of flinching as a token of permission, scrubbing the dirt away from his tan skin with the gentlest touch he can muster. It’s interesting to see the way his skin turns a light pink after only a few strokes of the warm rag. It appears that Sky People’s skin is extremely sensitive and expressive to every substance it comes in contact with. He is pleased however to see that Spider’s muscles have begun to relax underneath each stroke and the shaking of his body has puttered out to a small vibration.

“Well I don’t think anyone has ever asked me before to be honest.” Spider tries to slip in a small laugh but it’s strained. Those tiny four fingered hands come to gather his dreads and push them to the side before fondling them absently.

Of course he knows that Lo’ak didn’t know the boy’s favorite color but for no one to ask? Never? By Eywa, what do the strange scientists at the lab that supposedly raised this male talk to him about? The negligence is infuriating and yet Zhali knows he shouldn’t be surprised. From the interactions he has seen between them, Norm acts more like a close friend than anything resembling a parental figure.

Spider pauses, head tilted as he ponders the question.

“I suppose red is not a bad one. Like the red from sunsets.”

Zhali’s lips turn down.

“Not green.” Disappointment lays heavy in his stomach, He should’ve known better than to trust Lo’ak as his source of information.

“Green? Oh you mean cause of the loincloth. It doesn’t really-” Spider cuts himself off, turning silent as he looks down.

Zhali’s ear perk forehead, wondering if he has somehow missed the end of that sentence.

“Shit.” Spider whispers to himself.

Peering over the boy’s golden dreads, Zhali finally finds the source of Spider’s silence. A jagged rip through the side of the loincloth.

“Fuck I- Damnit, I didn’t realize and now….” Spider hunches forward inspecting it frantically. “I’ve ruined it. All for my stupid fucking bow.” He grits out. “You worked so hard on it and I-”Spider gulps, voice heavy with emotion.

“I will make another one.”

“No no, you shouldn’t have to…..I-I’m sorry.”

Zhali catches sight of glimmering tears welding over the boy’s eyes, ones that he refuses to shed. His heartbeat picks up more erratically when Spider allows his dreads to form a curtain over his face.

“Spider, it is fine. I will make a new one. This time red.” As it should have been from the beginning. This would be his chance to redeem himself and give Spider the courting gift he truly deserved. Hesitantly he reaches out to sweep that golden hair away but Spider reels back.

“Another one? N-no I cant ask that. It’s my fault I ruined it…it was…”

“The wrong color. I understand, tawtute.”

“No no no it….it was fucking perfect.” Spider sniffles and more than anything Zhali wishes he could see the boy properly, get that damn mask out of the way so he could wipe away the tears. “The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” It’s whispered so soft and reverant that the Na’vi almost questions whether or not he heard it properly.

It would be easier not to believe it.

Easier to believe that there were greater gestures the boy has received over the years than some simple pieces of clothing.

Zhali shifts forward, boldly sweeping the hair away so he can clearly see Spider’s sparkling eyes.

“You deserve so much more than this.” He can see the boy’s lungs still with air. “So much more than a courting gift in the wrong color. More than a simple garment that pales in comparison to your beauty.” Spider’s blunt teeth naw at those soft pink lips. “More than jewels and bracelets. More than all the beauties of Pandora combined.”

It’s as if the boy is frozen in time, air no longer passing through those lips. It’s borderline impossible to understand if this is a good or bad sign, but the truth is bursting from the seams, no longer willing to be kept prisoner.

“You deserve a mate that will care for you. One that truly sees you.” Zhali catches a golden strand, tucking it behind Spider’s ear. Oh how he wishes to bury his face in that hair, to fully let the beautiful tawtute’s scent to sink in.

His stomach twists into a bundle of knots but the words come regardless.

“I see you, Spider.”

Silence stretches between them but Spider’s eyes remain trained on him, pupils blown wide and breath stilled. A new form of anxiety settles itself as the seconds pass without a clear breath coming from him.

“You do not have to say anything. I have only begun courting you after all. I simply thought you should kno-”

Spiders cuts him off with a shake of his head, breath finally exhaled. Nothing, however, matches the horror Zhali feels as the boy reaches to lift his mask.

“No Spider-” He catches his wrist.

“It’s ok.” Spider gently pries the hand from his wrist before taking a deep breath in.

The mask is carefully slipped from his face but Spider gives him a reassuring smile when he spots the concern written over Zhali’s face. And then, the space between them decreases slowly, the boy’s face inching closer to his own until their noses brush. Those big doe eyes flicker between his own heated gaze and lips.

The first point of contact is hesitant and slow, but there is a certain tenderness to that gentle swipe of lips. Spider’s lips are so much smaller than his own, but ever so soft. So many moments have led to this one but his heart continues to race, ever so worried about hurting the small tawtute.

It is Spider, however, that pushes it forward, small tongue swiping at his bottom lip. Zhali allows him. He gives the boy of his dreams access, gives him the world because there is nothing else he can manage to do, not when his wildest fantasies are coming true. Leisurely they each explore one another and melt into the kiss.

He cups Spider face tenderly, hands easily covering each side of his head. He even allows his fingers to softly explore through the sunshine mane. Spider’s hands are more cautious, but every area they trace over has Zhali’s tail swinging back and forth exuberantly.

In some ways this kiss is nothing in comparison to the other sexual rendezvous Zhali has experienced and yet it feels more intimate. Like finally having access to a beautiful masterpiece kept behind glass for so long. Finally getting to cherish Spider’s beautiful face instead of observing from a distance.

At the first jerk of Spider’s chest, Zhali sternly repositions the mask over his face. His emotions swirl from pure elation to trepidation as he waits to hear that first breath.

Spider lets out a small gasp for air, cheeks tinting as his chest expands and caves rapidly. Hands on the boy’s thighs, Zhali leans forward, eyes darting across the mysterious mask to make sure it is working properly.

“Can you breathe?” He reaches forward to mess with the contraption, not that he has any idea how but he can’t help himself.

“Yeah yeah…I can.” Spider lets out an airy laugh. “Well, mostly.”

Zhali’s frown deepens urgency increasing but then he notices that dazed smile over the boy’s face. The giddy look in his eyes as that beautiful blush paints his cheeks once more.

“It’s ok It’s ok.” Spider laughs, small hands prying Zhalil’s own off the mask. “I’m alright. Just a little overwhelmed.”

“You promise, sevin?” Zhali sweetly pushes a few dreads away from Spider’s face, eyes studying him intently.

Once again Zhali watches in awe as that tan skin quickly shifts to a darker shade of red, even traveling over Spider’s collarbones and chest. He follows that blossom of color downwards, eyes caught on the boy’s small nipples now perked in the cool air. He doesn’t try to hide the ogling, not now that the truth is out.

“Y-yes.” Spider stutters.

“Good.” He breathes out, but his hands are already gliding over the soft skin of Spider’s sides. He takes in every reaction like a gift. The way the tawtute shivers when his ribcage is brushed, the way that blush only intensifies with Zhali’s darkening gaze, the way his nipples pebble under his long fingers as if they are aching to be touched.

For so long Spider has been forbidden fruit. For even longer Zhali has dreamed of how this beautiful creature would feel in his hands, the sounds he could draw from him. Sitting here feels like a dream, one beyond his wildest imagination when a small groan escapes Spider.

One hand dares to grip the boy’s left hip while the other swirls over one hardening nipple. Without a tail or ears it can be hard to read Spider but even Zhali can recognize the restraint his beautiful tawtute exhibits as his hips twitch and chest heaves.

Spider’s eyes stray away from the intimate points of contact when Zhali leans forward to rest his temple against his. Breath fogs up the glass.

“Spider”

“Yes?” He whispers.

“Let me take care of you.”

Spider’s thick lashes flutter rapidly as he visibly gulps.

“But I….w-why?” He stutters, as if unable to process the concept.

“Because you deserve it, sevin.” He squeezes his hip gently as Spider stares at him with big hazel eyes. A color that he could easily get lost in. Ones that goes greatly with Spider’s now swollen pink lips.

He has never been so desperate to please such a beautiful being.

“Let me make you feel good, yawne.” Spider’s eyes flutter closed when the Na’vi rakes his longer fingers through his hair. “Please, yawntutsyip.”

Spider melts in the touch, letting the Na’vi cradle the back of his head.

“Let me show you how I’d take care of you if you’d be mine.” His softly scratches along his scalp, delighting in the way Spider’s small form goes slack.

A new spice intertwines with Spider’s scent, filling Zhali’s lungs until it has become his own personal drug.

“Sevin?”

“Y-yes yes, ok yeah I-I…yes.” Spider exhales, words tumbling together.

Zhali grins.

Spider is sure he’s hallucinating. So sure that somewhere in that fall he hit his head a little too hard and now suffers from delusions. It’s the only explanation he has to explain how this god of a Na’vi has decided to please him. The only way he can comprehend not only being allowed in his kelku but furthermore have those sharp teeth tracing over his abs.

Looking down at the male who kisses and nips at his body like it’s art made just for him, Spider is content to let this hallucination continue. He will spend the rest of his life in this dream if it means staying cradled in his arms, if it means feeling that hot tongue explore his body intimately.

True intimacy can be hard to come by for Spider.

Kiri tries and Jake will occasionally ruffle his hair but it does little to satiate what he really needs. Now, however, seems to be the worst time to realize how touch starved he is. It’s embarrassing how difficult it is to keep himself from squirming or God forbid even bucking up into every touch and kiss.

It’s worse than being a teenager in his hammock trying to get himself off. At least then he was in the privacy of his own company but Zhali’s touch is like lightning in comparison to his own. His hands are so much larger that when the Na’vi goes to cup his head or slink down his chest, it covers the expanse easily.

It’s when Zhali pushes him down with a hand to his chest that Spider realizes he might be into their size difference more than he anticipated.

Neck craning to watch Zhali litter kisses along his lower abdomen, he burns in mortification when he spots his own boner through the green loincloth. He wants to believe that Zhali has not noticed this before but even he knows that Na’vi have greatly enhanced senses.

Fuck, he most likely already can smell his arousal, let alone see it.

His blunt teeth sink into his bottom lip harder as he holds back the jumble of moans that threaten to break loose.

It’s pathetic.

Already in adulthood and yet all it takes for him to rut like a hormonal teenager are a few well placed kisses and bites.

Open mouthed kisses are meticulously placed along his v line until he has reached his right hip. Something sharp draws along his skin and Spider sees the Na’vi’s teeth bared. Their eyes connect for a moment and it appears to be all the confirmation that Zhali requires before he takes the plush flesh into his mouth and sucks hard.

A shocked cry falls from Spider’s lips as his back arches.

Pain and pleasure dance together in symphony when those impressive teeth come into play. What has his legs shaking, however, is the knowledge that it will leave a mark. Even humans know what such a display means.

A marking to show he is being courted.

A marking to show that he is wanted and desired by a male prospect.

“Am I hurting you, sevin?”

It takes a moment for the words to register.

“Wh- oh no no. You’re not.”

“Hm, good.” Looking up through his lashes Zhali keeps their gazes pinned as he lays a tender kiss over the new mark. Those lips skate over his skin until reaching the intricate ties of his loincloth.

Hands holding the male’s thighs apart, Zhali carefully secures a tie between his teeth and begins to pull. Watching that knot unravel feels like the longest seconds of Spider’s life. He isn’t sure if he needs it to speed up or slow down because his brain can hardly process what is to come.

It isn’t his first time being bare before a Na’vi. Admittedly, other Na’vi, even among the Metkayina have had their curiosity sparked by Spider. Some shuffled him away with a rushed exploration and desperate touching that became all the sex life Spider had ever known. However, those had only left him unsatisfied and lonely again at the end of the night.

This is different, however.

Zhali, although curious, doesn’t explore him for his own pleasure but rather Spider’s.

He takes in every new discovery and change like a masterpiece meant to be worshiped. He watches for the slightest flinch to signal a change and the smallest twitches of pleasure to indicate what spikes the boy’s pleasure.

And when the silky loincloth falls away, the same one that Zhali had spent weeks carefully crafting especially for him, he doesn’t rush to grip or stroke. His heated gaze is the first thing to caress him, and then his voice.

“So magnificent, my tawtute.”

Spider can already feel himself trembling. This new emotion bubbling forward does not make it easier to gather restraint, to stop himself from appearing like a desperate lonely fool in front of this gorgeous man.

Zhali kisses right next to the base and Spider forces himself to look away.

This gentle worship does things to him that he could never have imagined and therefore could never have prepared for. He can’t watch this any longer without losing the reins.

He can feel himself twitch as soft kisses are placed one by one around the base until every inch has been covered. Toes curling, Spider attempts to slow down his heartbeat.

“Spider”

“Huh?”

He peaks to find Zhali looking up at him, large golden orbs taking in every flinch in his expression.

“I am not hurting you?” He checks again.

“No no, of course not.” Spider chokes out, ears growing hot at the tremor in his voice.

“Hm, I see.” He hums before his fingertips start drawing soft patterns over his hips. “You are tense, sevin.”

His stomach flips.

“Fuck, yeah I know, I-I’m sorry. I understand if-”

Zhali hushes him sweetly, crawling forward to cup his face once more.

“Spider,” His name from Zhali’s lips sounds like a song. “Do you want this?”

He doesn’t enjoy how fast he is nodding his head.

“Yes. I do, shit yeah I do. I’ll keep it together, I'm sorry.”

Zhali is shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence.

“Sevin, do not apologize.” Zhali’s slim tail wraps itself around his calf and Spider has to hide the tremor along his lips. “I only need one thing from you.”

Spider gulps, leaning forward and ready to take the criticism.

“I need you to relax.”

Spider flushes, fighting back the urge to gulp down the knot in his throat.

“Yeah o-okay.”

Zhali is less than convinced but a warm smile crosses his lips. His fingers intertwine with the boy’s hair once more before he is raking them through those golden locks. The reaction is immediate, pleasurable shivers dissipating through Spider’s body.

Never before had he realized how sensitive he is to this gesture but now with those gentle movements massaging his scalp, Spider feels like he could melt into molten gold. Zhali runs his face along the curve of his neck, marking him with his scent.

The hand in his hair is used to tilt Spider’s head back and give him better access. A breath wooshes from the boy’s lungs.

“Just focus on what you feel, sevin.”

Soft lips lay a kiss behind his ear.

“What feels good,” Zhali continues.

Another kiss, this time to his pulse point.

“What feels different.”

Zhali’s textured tongue drags along his skin languidly. Spider hardly registers his own groan as he lets his weight fall into the Na’vi embrace.

“What you want more of.”

When the male begins sucking a hickey into the side of his neck, Spider can no longer keep a cap on his noises. A string of whines and moans fall from his lips as he finds rest in the moment. Eyes closed and mouth agape, he forgets where he is.

He forgets who he is.

He forgets who he is not.

And Spider lets each exhilarating sensation guide his decisions.

“Good boy.” Zhali whispers warmly against his pulse, licking over the mark to soothe.

His hands firmly run down Spider’s sides, squeezing it greedily until his presence can not be forgotten. Taking control of every curve and line, Zhali plays him like an instrument. Spider lays back against the matt, golden hair creating a crown around him. Hazel eyes dilate before fluttering closed when soft kisses are left along his inner thighs.

Sounds erupt from him that Spider doesn’t recognize when Zhali’s tongue begins exploring his length. His body buzzes with a new energy, nerves a lit with every swoop and swirl of that talented tongue.

And even though his hips twitch in silent request for more, Spiders swears that he could live in the moment forever.

“Such beautiful sounds, oeyä tawtute.”

The compliment floods his cheeks and tugs at his chest. There is no longer room for self doubt as praises fall freely between the beautiful exploration of Zhali’s mouth. Every concern is hushed before it can fully bloom.

“You taste so good, sevin. Don’t know how I went without you for so long.”

And then warmth encases his member in a rush. Zhali sucks his cock with such enthusiasm and vigor that it becomes difficult to see which partner enjoys themselves more.

But it’s him.

Spider is sure it is him.

He knows that there is no other Na’vi or human out there that feels the things he is feeling, that reaches such heights of ecstasy and passion in one night. He can’t fathom anyone else knowing the warmth, pleasure, and relief that washes over him.

Nose to the boy’s navel, Zhali swirls his tongue around the boy’s base, easily able to take all of Spider within the warm cavern of his mouth. Spider’s hands shoot down and grab the Na’vi’s tied hair without thought. His fingers grip and tug at the neat bun until strands start to fall loose.

“Oh fuck!” He shouts, blunts nails digging into his scalp.

Zhali pulls back until his lips are sealed around only the bulbous tip. The point of his tongue runs over the slit brashly and Spider yanks on his hair. The action is rewarded with a carnal moan, the vibrations rocketing through the boy.

Zhali likes to watch. Spider can feel those eyes trained on him without reprieve, no matter which way he squirms and bucks. At some point he feels strong hands pin his hips to the ground, forcing him to take the pleasure in its entirety.

Spider isn’t used to the attention.

He isn’t used to the way Zhali mentally tracks his reactions and the actions associated with them.

He isn’t used to the honey eyes drinking in the sight of him.

But most of all, he isn’t used to being the center of attention.

It breaks him into a thousand pieces.

His climax crashes so hard into him that his small hands search for something to ground him. They circle around Zhali’s kuru tugging as he spills into the male’s mouth.

The sound that erupts from Zhali is unlike anything Spider has ever heard from him. So far from the polite, organized and formal male that he has known. It rings forth with a raspy texture and a deep serenade that sets his world on fire.

Not a drop is wasted and Zhali doesn’t release his twitching length until Spider is pushing back his head.

He falls limp against the mat, bowl pupils staring up at the world in a daze. He can briefly sense the careful precision Zhali takes to kiss every mark before running a warm cloth over him but it’s background noise to the symphony playing in his head.

“Thank you, sevin.”

That deep voice now with a raspy tint weaves into his consciousness as Spider revels in the tingling aftershock running through his body. He can only manage a lazy smile when Zhali comes up to check on him.

“Just give me….give one minute and then I….I can help.” He manages to get out between pants. Zhali’s brows furrow until he sees the boy eyeing his tented loincloth.

“You have done more than help today, tawtute. Given me more than I could have asked for.” And he grins so sincerely that Spider can’t fathom how the male could feel this way. In every sexual interaction he has had, there was always a return of the favor, that is assuming Spider finished in the first place. But Zhali looks at him like he hung the moon, eyes glimmering in delight as he wipes him down with a warm cloth.

“You…you don’t want me to touch you?”

Zhali traces idle lines over Spider abs happily.

“Of course I do, but how would that serve the proper purpose? I am courting you.” Zhali stands and begins preparing the hammock for them. He arranges extra pillows and blankets that Spider has never seen other Na’vi have before. In fact, there is a great deal of influence from Sky People culture present in the male’s kelku. Things that only a human would find necessary.

Before he can protest, Spider is carried carefully to the hammock and laid across the Na’vi chest. He tucks a blanket around the boy’s hips, making sure it isn’t too tight but still brings the wet tawtute some warmth.

“Although, I admit. This is out of order. It was supposed to be step twelve but do not worry. I will make sure not to skip over any. Fourteen steps to go.” He nods firmly, lips perking upwards.

Spider’s brain sputters, head still fuzzy from the best orgasm of his life. Tonight feels like a dream, an absolute horny amazing romantic dream that his subconscious has whipped up. He can barely process the night’s turn of events, let alone this handsome male wanting to go through an extensive courting process all for him.

“Fourteen? You….but…that is so much.”

Zhali’s hairless brows furrow.

“It’s hardly enough, sevin. It’s important that you have enough proof of my ability to provide, protect, and love before you make your choice. So you can weigh your options.”

As if he has other options.

Who would surpass this?

Who has ever even tried?

Zhali continues to run his fingers through the human’s hair as he sighs happily, watching as Spider shifts closer.

“I do not expect an answer now, sevin. But hopefully tonight is a start to convincing you.”

Rain pelting down on the kelku and wrapped in this amazing man’s arms, Spider’s eyes fill with tears again.

To call it convincing would be an understatement.

Thanks for reading. As always, I truly appreciate hearing your thoughts. It motivates me to write and update more. Love you all<3

Taglist: @tallulah477 @eywaite @itchaboi-itchyboy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang

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wanderingsimsfinds · 6 months

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WanderingSims Face CC - Asian Build List

1-4 - simnaru - Japanese Entrance Double Sliding 2x1 Doors 4-7

5-8 - Sugichaco - Door 01-04

9 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Mountain Sun Door

10 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Ssh! Shoji Sliding Double Door

11, 13, 28-36 - Mutske - Tokyo Windows Part 1 (TSR)

12, 14, 37-47 - Mutske - Tokyo Windows Part 2 (TSR)

15-17 - simnaru - School Build Set (Door Sliding 2x1 School, Window 2x1 School 1, Window School 2)

18 - Sugichaco - Japanese Window 01

19 - simnaru - Japanese Syouji Middle Set

20 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Double Sunrise Window

21 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Is It Snowing Slider Window

22 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Shoji Style Window in a Box

23-27 - Martassimsbook - 4t3 Sims-KKB Ordinary Windows Set

48 - Blams - Rice Paper Wall

49 - Martassimsbook - The Sims 4 Snowy Escape Summit Cedar Walls

50 - Milla - Lama Ofuro Set Wall 4 & 5

51 - sim_man123 - Akiho Wall Paneling (TSR)

52 - Devirose - Japanese Modern Wall 1 (TSR)

53 - Devirose - Wall Asian Closets Coordinated (TSR)

54 - Devirose - Wall Asian Shoji 1 (TSR)

55 - simnaru - Japanese Roof

56 - boringbones - Japanese Roofs

57-59 - simnaru - Fence Japanese 1 & 2 and Fence Roofed

60 - SIMCredible! - Asian Nook Fence (TSR)

61-62 - Luna - Fence Bamboo 0 & 1

63-66 - Martassimsbook- 4t3 Syboulette Pioupiou Set (Fence, Tall Fence, Single Gate, Double Gate)

67 - sim_man123 - Small & Large Japanese Maple Trees (TSR)

68 - sim_man123 - Small & Large Japanese Pine Trees (TSR)

69 - sim_man123 - Small & Large Japanese Cherry Trees (TSR)

70 - mwthsims3 - Cherry Tree Default Replacement

#cc list #ts3cc #s3cc #s3ccfinds #asian

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genericpuff · 2 months

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damn this post on my FB from 2020 about how i was gonna stylize time gate after Reaper was finished aged like milk right in the first line

i did in fact end up in another mass hiatus period like i did back in 2017/2018-

the rest of the post is me talking about how i'm trying to settle into an easier style that 'lessons the load'

instead i ended up doing a full color vertical comic with 60+ panels per episode every week and i did that for like 6 months and then burned out like a dying star

and now it's been on hiatus since like 2023 and i'm doing a completely different full color vertical comic with like 30+ panels per episode updated every two weeks, which is definitely a lighter load but still a load LOL

hang in there past me, you didn't see any of this coming but a lot of it's been for the better; as for the stuff that didn't go so well, we'll get through it in due time u.u </3

but also happy 4 years to this drawing:

it was also 5 years ago today that I got the best firing of my life from my toxic ass tattoo apprenticeship that I deadass almost lost my life to (thanks depression). Life's still hard but I'm thankful every fucking day that I'm out of there.

#self post #original art #original projects

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shadowjackery · 1 year

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The Gladdest Thing Under the Sun

I honestly thought we were supposed to wait a couple of days after the zine’s release, but, heck, everyone else is doing it, so here we are: My contribution to @gensokyozine . I’ve wanted to do this story for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Descriptive text for the visually impaired or for easy quotation:

PAGE 1

Title: "Shadowjack presents: The Gladdest Thing under the Sun"

Yuuka Kazami, a youkai woman, climbs the cracked stone steps to the ramshackle Hakurei Shrine. She carries a parasol. Up the wooded hill, through the pines, stand the shrine gate and two guardian komainu -- one of whom, Aunn, is alive and waving cheerfully, tail wagging. The plum and cherry trees atop the hill are in bloom. Dandelions sprout as Yuuka passes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Title: "Yuuka Kazami, Flower Mistress of the Four Seasons"

Yuuka wears a summer outfit that evokes the mid-20th century: a vest over a short-sleeved blouse with a necktie, a knee-length pencil skirt, hose and heels, a handkerchief neatly folded in her vest pocket. She also wears glossy leather gauntlets and tight sleeve garters. Her hair is bobbed and curled in 1930s fashion. Her eyes are slitted, like a snake's.

She rests her head on her hand and gazes up at Reimu, rapt. A cat with black and white fur, spotted something like a yin-yang ball, lies nearby, watching her carefully.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Title: "Reimu Hakurei, Mysterious Shrine Maiden of Paradise"

Reimu, a human woman with a long ponytail, looks down at Yuuka, sweating slightly. She says, "Um... you know..."

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Reimu wears her usual red-white shrine maiden robes and ribbons, much patched and threadbare. She is barefoot on the porch, holding a broom.

Reimu: "When you look at me like that, I get the feeling I'm about to be CUT and PRESSED."

Yuuka is shocked. "Oh, my! I would NEVER. A wild flower is best viewed in its natural habitat, always!"

PAGE 2, PANEL 4

Reimu, smiling: "I'm a wildflower?"

Yuuka, grinning: "One of the best!"

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Reimu greets Yuuka at the entrance to her residence. Yuuka bows formally. She has brought a package, wrapped in cloth with a floral pattern.

Yuuka: "Ojama shimasu."

Reimu: "Hai, hai."

Reimu: "Everything is flowers with you, isn't it?"

Yuuka: "It could hardly be otherwise, dear! I am what I am."

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Yuuka takes off her shoes, while Reimu places the parasol on the weapons rack by the door. The top shelf holds scrolls, boxes labelled "needles" and "seals", and one Mk 2 hand grenade.

A large sign by the rack says in printed text, "Check ALL weapons before coming in! Including but not limited to: Swords, Axes, Bows, Spears, Guns, Wands, Staffs, Parasols, Lasers, Bombs, Poisons, Curses," and so on.

A handwritten post-it note has been tacked to it, saying, "SEIJA -- Do NOT obey this!"

Another, ripped and faded sign has been taped by the list, adding, "MARISA -- Whatever it is now: NO. I mean it."

There is a bullethole next to the sign.

A different yin-yang cat watches Yuuka.

Reimu says, "So what kind of flower is Marisa?"

Yuuka: "She reminds me of pampas grass."

Reimu: "?"

Yuuka: "One of a few varieties of cortaderia, somewhat resembling susuki."

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

The two women go inside where there's more shade.

Yuuka: "It's a fast-growing, invasive species that can contribute to rat infestations and dangerous wildfires."

Reimu, laughing: "A WEED!"

Yuuka: "But charming in its way."

PAGE 3, PANEL 4, OFFSET

Somewhere, Marisa sneezes.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

In Reimu's kitchen, the two together prepare afternoon tea, while two different cats beg at their feet. Reimu pours hot water from a large kettle into a cast-iron teapot. Yuuka takes down bowls and cups, and opens up the Japanese-style lunchboxes she brought.

Yuuka has put on an apron that parodies the "piyo piyo apron" worn by Kyoko in the manga "Maison Ikkoku", but instead of a drawing of a baby chick on the chest, it has a drawing of a Dragon Quest slime, saying "suu suu".

Reimu: "You aren't bothered she stole the Master Spark from you?"

Yuuka: "Oh, Marisa didn't steal it from me! She bargained for it fairly."

Reimu stops what she's doing to turn toward Yuuka. "Bullshit."

Yuuka: "It's true! I was curious to learn a little magic, and in exchange for lessons I agreed to trade her a cutting."

Reimu: "Huh!"

Yuuka: "I don't mind helping another gardener to improve their art. She makes it bloom well, doesn't she?"

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Yuuka carries a tray of sandwiches and snacks out of the kitchen.

Yuuka: "Besides... to cast it ONCE, she needs a device."

A surprise second Yuuka, with long hair, and wearing trousers instead of a skirt, whisks the teapot and cups from Reimu's hands, leaving Reimu with nothing to do.

Yuuka, the second: "But I by myself can cast it TWICE."

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

Only one Yuuka again. Yuuka and Reimu kneel on the veranda to take their tea. One yin-yang cat nearby sprawls asleep in the sun, an orange tabby circles curiously, and a third cat sulks by Reimu.

Reimu: "Okay, then how about... Alice?"

Yuuka: "Ohhh... Alice is special. With her pride and ingenuity, she bears the seed of great potential for power."

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Yuuka beams with enthusiasm. She says, "Why, if one could but prune away a few of her mortal failings -- such as 'restraint' or 'mercy' -- she could make a truly MARVELLOUS youkai!"

We can now observe that Yuuka's necktie is not knotted, but instead held by a silver woggle marked with a "lily of the valley" emblem.

PAGE 5, PANEL 3

Yuuka blushes happily. "She might even be stronger than I. Wouldn't that be an interesting day?" A heart floats in her words.

Reimu tries to hide her concern. She thinks, "Ganbatte, Alice-san..." But only says out loud, "...er, uh... and Yukari?"

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Yuuka grins wolfishly. "Yukari and I have an arrangement: She doesn't meddle in my garden, and I don't BURN DOWN hers."

Reimu: "Isn't it weird that a youkai of FLOWERS is so good at fighting?"

Yuuka: "I'm surprised to hear that from a Japanese!"

Reimu: "You say that like you're not."

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "I am known in many lands, by many names, wherever flowers grow."

Yuuka narrates the scene from the foreground, wearing a woman's kimono and lacquered okobo sandals. She carries now a Japanese-style paper parasol. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a cherry-blossom kanzashi, and she wears a sunflower hair ornament. She is surrounded by flowers: chrysanthemum, hollyhock, and birthwort, and above her spreads blooming sakura.

Yuuka: "Did not your own samurai describe themselves as cherry blossoms, and fight for emperor and shogun under the banners of the chrysanthemum and hollyhock?"

In the midground, two armored samurai clash. The lower-status one has fallen to the ground; the richer has a bloody slash across his left eye. He swings his sword and chops the grounded man's spear in two, but the other is undaunted.

In the background, an army of horse and foot mounts the top of the hill, banners billowing.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Now Yuuka narrates wearing a huipil dress with embroidered shawl, and simple leather slippers. Her hair is done in buns, with a Mexican sunflower by her ear. A hummingbird flies near her. Growing around her are Aztec marigold, dahlias, banana yucca, and Mexican hat flowers.

Yuuka: "Across the sea to your east, the mighty Mexica gathered their 'hummingbird' soldiers to send to the 'Flower Wars' (they named them) to gather honor, blood, and sacrifices."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Nahuatl, one poor, one rich with a slashed left eye. The poorer one wears only a loincloth, and has a shield slung over his shoulder. His shield is painted with a hummingbird design, and from it hang a few feathers. The richer soldier wears a full-body jaguar costume, and wields a macuahuitl war-club. The poor soldier leaps to his feet and tackles his enemy, disarming him.

In the background, an army of Aztecs battle below a stepped pyramid and high mountains.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Now Yuuka narrates wearing men's doublet and hose, embroidered with fleur-de-lis and tulips, along with knee-high riding boots and gauntlets. Around her neck is a sunflower pendant. On her shoulder perches a falcon. About her feet, and entangling the narration boxes, are red, white, and yellow roses.

Yuuka: "And to the far west, the lords of the English struggled for a choice of kingly roses, red Lancaster or snowy York."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Englishmen, again one poorer, the other richer with the eye injury. The poorer soldier has some mail pieces and a simple brimmed helmet; the richer has plate armor, a full helm, and a shield. The rich fighter is overthrown, his foe about to stab him through the visor with his own arming sword.

In the background, mounted knights charge a line of archers behind wooden stakes. A church or fort stands on hills in the far distance.

Yuuka: "Flowers and War have always been intertwined."

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

We return to Reimu's veranda and cherry trees.

Reimu: "You've seen so many strange places... Do you have a favorite?"

Yuuka: "...it was in the west, in Flanders, perhaps a hundred years ago."

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Yuuka invisibly narrates: "Such a war, Reimu! The men burrowed like moles, or took to the air like kites."

Above barbed wire, two airplanes spit tracers at each other. It is World War One.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "They plowed the earth with cannon, night and day."

Shirtless German artillerymen fire their gun amid sandbags. Something explodes close by.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Yuuka: "They slew by shot and poison, fire and blade."

A gasmasked French soldier, armed with pistol and entrenching tool, cautiously moves down a trench. An unseen enemy waits around the corner with rifle and bayonet.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Yuuka: "And for no purpose that I could see, no treasure nor slave."

Barbed wire and ruined buildings.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Yuuka, narrating: "The destruction was so maniacal it seemed no tree, no blade of grass, would ever grow there again. I thought you humans had gone absolutely mad!"

Yuuka, wearing colorful hat, coat, and umbrella, stands on a windy no-man's land, surrounded by dull mud and broken pieces. Tracer fire crosses the sky, coming from a distant machine-gun nest. She notices, but does not bother to avoid, the few bullets that land near her.

Yuuka, narrating: "But it was I who did not understand your passion. When I learned your true intentions, I was deeply humbled."

PAGE 8, PANEL 6

Yuuka, narrating: "Did you know, Reimu? You can find graves in the wild by how the flowers grow. (Bone meal makes such good fertilizer.)"

The corpse of a soldier lies upon the ruined earth. But near his outstretched arm, a single bluebell, and a few patches of grass, have sprouted.

PAGE 8, PANEL 7

Now there are no bodies, but grass and wildflowers and bumblebees cover the ground. A shattered helmet has a flower growing through the holes.

Yuuka, narrating: "I tell you that after this great war, those fields FLUORISHED with color. Rainbows spilled on seas of green grass!"

PAGE 9

Yuuka, narrating: "And ever after, all through those lands, the people wore blood-red poppies, to remember and give thanks to their kindred who slept below, for this sight they had worked so hard to create."

Yuuka wears early-20th century men's hunting clothes: a sturdy jacket and breeches with knee-high boots and gloves. Her curled hair is in a loose pompadour. As ever, she has a parasol. The sun shines warmly. The hill Yuuka walks down is covered in grass and bright red poppy flowers, stretching on forever. The plants almost completely cover a few remaining pieces of military hardware: a broken machine-gun, a lost helmet, a twist of barbed wire. Yuuka smiles.

Yuuka, narrating: "Tens of thousands of men willingly buried themselves for nothing better than the GLORY of FLOWERS!"

PAGE 9, PANEL 2, INSET

We return to Reimu's veranda. Yuuka clutches a handkerchief, almost overcome with romantic tears.

Yuuka: "It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen!"

Reimu stares at her and says nothing.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Yuuka says, "Excuse me!", wipes her tears, and takes out her compact to redo her makeup.

Reimu thinks, "Yuuka is one of my oldest friends, but she really is a monster, isn't she? I don't even know how to BEGIN to explain the truth to her... or if I even should."

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Title: "FLOWERS appearing in this story."

Many cut flowers are arranged on a wooden surface, with identifying captions. In no particular order, they are: primrose, fleur-de-lis (yellow iris), common sunflower, anemone, dandelion, Mexican sunflower, tulip, rose, cempoalxóchitl (Aztec marigold), dahlia, banana yucca, Mexican hat flower, pineapple sage, bee orchid, celandine, Flanders poppy, lily-of-the-valley, bluebell, daffodil, kiku (chrysanthemum), aoi (birthwort), hollyhock, ume (Japanese plum), and sakura (Japanese cherry).

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

In a simplified art style:

Reimu pats Alice on the shoulder and says, "Alice, we sure attract some weird ones, don't we?"

Alice wears her usual workdress and hairband, but also has sturdy explosive ordnance disposal goggles and gloves. She is inserting a stick of dynamite into the back of a Hatsune Miku doll. Other dolls and marionettes (and one teddy bear) fill the room, all with visible dynamite fuzes sticking out of their heads, and all with glowing eyes.

Alice says, "Don't disturb me when I'm setting the explosive charges! If they went off, they could hurt the dolls."

Reimu: "...This is why she likes you, you know."

Alice: "?"

END

#fan comic #touhou #yuuka kazami #reimu hakurei

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hometoursandotherstuff · 6 months

Text

Realtors. You must stop calling everything mid-century modern, "Frank Lloyd Wright style." This unique 1969 (reno'd in in 1994) MCM home in Durant, Oklahoma was designed by architect Robert Valberg and is one-of-a-kind. 4bds, 6ba, $899K.

This bamboo look paneling is not Wright's style. It's unique.

Very spacious, love the ceiling and glass walls. Notice the wood flooring cutouts w/the carpet.

Very large home.

Isn't this skylight unique?

Nice kitchen- it's behind a curving island of lower cabinets.

Pantry that looks like an armoire.

Look at the gates.

This must be the primary bedroom with the fancy fireplace.

What a lovely sink.

Plus a vintage makeup vanity.

Upgraded double shower.

And, a walk-in closet.

#2 of 8 baths.

Great rec room and bar on the ground floor. Looks like maybe they left the game tables.

The outdoor kitchen on the patio.

Pretty feature on the property looks castle-like.

Beautiful pool.

Property measures 4.3 acres.

It's a very large MCM that can actually be called an estate.

#mid century modern homes #mcm architecture #houses #house tours #home tour

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ilovemybishies87 · 4 months

Text

The Vacation from Hell - Chapter Two

Chapter two is now uploaded to AO3! It is also below the cut, in case anyone prefers to read on tumblr.

This chapter is VERY loosely based on the response sketch from @damntheyare's original 'human hotel' fanart. Because some tropes will never die (nor do we want them to).

Despite the numerous changes since Alastor was alive, he could more or less navigate thanks to a few familiar landmarks, like the old Hermann-Grima place. Back in his day, it had been a boarding house for single women. He slowed as they passed its faded blue shutters and gated front door.

“What is it?” asked Charlie. “You know this place?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I know about it. This house has quite a history, spanning back to before I was even alive! The families who owned it are well known around here.”

“Speaking of, where is here? I didn’t ask since you seem to know the way.”

“New Orleans.” Alastor paused. “Home, I suppose.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “This is where you lived when you were human?”

“Born and raised!”

“And the hotel we’re staying?”

He didn’t answer. He could only hope it still existed.

Their suitcase wheels clacked on the brick sidewalk as they strode down Saint Louis Street and turned right. Many of the businesses were from after his time. He didn’t care for their newer architecture: some flashes of style here and there, but mostly it simply existed. Functional without any flavor.

They crossed over two more streets before reaching their destination.

Alastor allowed himself to drink in the sight. The name Hotel Monteleone was embellished in bold cursive on all three sides of the sign above the main portico. Festoons and cartouches, worn with age, adorned the hotel’s facade. Flower-filled planters lined a set of windows, and sky-blue flags waved on poles attached to metal guards.

Charlie’s jaw dropped, and her bag nearly so. “This is . . . wow.” She laughed. “Good choice, Al!”

“Thank you, my dear!” he said, and found his mood marginally improved.

A solitary footman stood before a pair of golden doors. His attire was more suited to the weather—a short sleeve button down—but the black hat couldn’t have been comfortable. As they approached, he swung the door closest to him open.

Cold air wafted out from the lobby.

“Maybe we should have someone greet our guests at the entrance, too!” she whispered, nodding her head in thanks as they entered. “Nothing says hospitable more than a friendly face greeting you when you arrive!”

“Oh? And who would you suggest for our doorman?”

“Angel Dust?”

“Not the worst suggestion.” He thought she might suggest Vaggie, but Charlie seemed to realize her dour expression would deter sinners seeking redemption. “Though I can’t say the types of guests he’d attract are what you’re hoping for!”

“That’s the point, Alastor! Everyone is welcome,” she insisted. “The problem is whether Angel would agree to it. He already works for Valentino. But maybe this will be a step in the right direction!”

The lobby was even more impressive than the hotel’s front. Their suitcases glided over parquet marble floors. Framed paintings of the founder, along with other men Alastor couldn’t place, decorated the walls. Above them, gold inlayed panels adorned the bases of crystal chandeliers. The lighting filled the entrance with a soft glow, making the place feel otherworldly.

To their left, a rose centerpiece stood in the middle, bench-like seating surrounding the arrangement. A set of stairs, most likely heading to the establishment's rooms, lay before it. Another smaller set of steps led to the entrance of a restaurant. Alastor filed that away for later. Once they were settled in, food would no doubt be a priority. They passed more seating in the form of sofas and upholstered armchairs, along with a grandfather clock ticking away the seconds.

Charlie lingered behind as he approached the counter.

The receptionist was a completely average woman. Not too tall or short, heavy or thin. Completely unremarkable. Her only standout feature was the short reddish locks framing her face. Her smile screamed ‘customer service,’ but she didn’t appear to be in a mood either.

“Can I help you?”

Alastor read the tag pinned to her blazer. “Why, yes, I believe you can, Marie!” he said with a flourish. “My companion and I are needing a room for the duration of our stay.”

“Of course, sir.” Marie began typing and glanced between him and a screen that suspiciously resembled Vox’s head. “Do you already have a reservation?”

Fuck.

Yes, he did. Decades ago, when they were supposed to arrive. Alastor was left with quite the conundrum. Did he take a chance on the hotel having an open room? Or did he use his magic to . . . turn the odds in their favor? The latter was the obvious choice, but he had expended more energy than planned to transport the group and their belongings.

Alastor lightly tapped the top of the machine and infused it with his magic. A green glow came forth from the monitor along with thread-like tendrils. They reached out toward the receptionist and infused her pupils with the same green glow.

“Yes, indeed!” he gritted out. “It should be for Alastor Malveaux and Charlotte Magne.”

Marie blinked; her eyes returned to normal. “Thank you, sir. One moment while I pull up that information.”

“Was that your last name?” whispered Charlie, joining him at his side.

Alastor shrugged. “Who knows?” he replied, his voice low. “Whatever it was, it’s lost to the wind. The Radio Demon is what I’m known as now, and I have no complaints.”

“Okay, but what about my name? Charlotte Magne. Really? What’s wrong with Charlie Morningstar?”

“Your last name might . . . raise a few eyebrows,” he said, smirking, “and Charlie Magne is too obvious.”

“How so?”

Marie interrupted before he could explain. “Okay, so I’ve found your reservation.” Her face twitched. “But I’m afraid the room you requested was double booked. Another couple has already checked in.”

“I see.” Charlie turned to him. “I guess we’ll have to cut our trip short?”

"No, no, Miss Magne!” said Marie. “This was entirely our fault! We do have another room available, though. Fortunately for you, it’s an upgrade!” She started furiously typing away. “How long did you and Mister Malveaux plan on staying again?”

Alastor struggled to keep his grin. “Six days.”

“And what time were you planning on returning home? Check out is before noon.”

So many questions. “We can be out before then.”

“Perfect! So, that will be five nights total—”

“What a relief!” Charlie scooped Husk off her shoulder and held him in her arms. He had somehow managed to remain affixed the entire trip to the hotel.

Alastor wholeheartedly agreed. “We’ll have to decide who gets which bed once we are in the room.”

“Oh, you wanted two beds?” asked Marie, the clacking on her keyboard slowing.

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’m sorry if I wasn’t clearer.” She held up her index finger. “The room only has one. If it’s any consolation, it’s a King.”

He would not murder the woman for doing her job, even if she was getting on the very last of his nerves. Alastor forced the violent urge down and laughed. “It would be quite improper for an unmarried man and woman to share—”

“We’ll make do,” Charlie answered, much to his shock. She looked up at him. “Is that okay?”

“As you said,” he stated with a deep breath, “we’ll make do.”

“All right! That’s five nights total with two pets,” Marie said, eyeing Niffty and Husk in their arms. “They receive their own little welcome package for free. Trust me, everyone loves it! And did you want any add-ons or upgrades for your stay? We offer overnight valet parking, along with a wide selection of wines and hard liquors—”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Maybe some macrons for you and Miss Magne—”

Charlie watched their exchange with rapt attention. No doubt she was mentally taking notes on what could be added to their hotel. That was the purpose of this visit. And while he appreciated her passion in theory—the more invested, the more satisfying it would be to see her dreams torn to shreds—the only one suffering at the moment was him.

“Just the total,” Alastor ground out. “Please.”

“That’ll be $2,204.60.”

Alastor turned to Charlie and handed her Niffty, who let out a small ‘Yip!’ of dismay. Charlie gasped. She barely managed to catch the other demon—now dog—and juggle both her and Husk in her arms.

Alastor unzipped the bag sitting on top of Niffty’s luggage and made a show of rummaging around. As he suspected, Husk had packed nothing but alcohol. He was grateful for once. A bottle of whiskey was calling his name. Hopefully the staff didn’t check the contents before they settled in. With his last bit of magic—at least until he could get some food and rest and alcohol—he conjured a stack of bills and zipped the sack closed.

He pulled out the cash and began counting.

Marie’s almond eyes widened. “Wow, don’t see that too often!” She stared at him grimly. “You’ll want to be careful. You’ll be a target for sure.”

Alastor chuckled as he placed the last bill down. The remainder was shoved into his pocket. “I’m not worried.” He took Niffty from Charlie, much to her relief, and held the small dog under his other arm.

Marie picked up the bills and double checked the amount. “Suit yourself. We don’t keep change here, but—”

“Don’t worry about the extra. Consider it a tip for your hard work! Otherwise, we’d be looking for another hotel or returning home.”

“Thank you, Mister Malveaux!” This time her smile was genuine. “If you don’t mind me asking, where is home for you anyway?”

“I'm technically from around these parts, but it's been years since I’ve been back. Things have changed quite a bit.”

Marie nodded. “You’ll find yourself at home in no time. Change doesn’t happen that fast here.” She turned to Charlie. “What about you?”

“Well . . . ,” said Charlie nervously, “where I’m from is pretty big. And dry. And hot! Not to mention very . . . intense! It’s nothing like here.”

Marie raised a brow. “Huh?”

“California!” said Alastor, and he felt Charlie relax.

“It’s where we met,” Charlie added, smiling at him.

“Oh, so you must be an actor,” said Marie to Alastor. “You sure are dedicated to the craft, not breaking character! It explains the accent. The glasses and cash too. Those Hollywood eccentrics sure have rubbed off on you.”

Alastor quirked his head. “Pardon?”

“I’ve never seen you in anything before, but I'm not much for historical pieces.” She reached for the safety deposit box below the counter and locked the cash away. “But I’m trying to branch out. I’ll watch for you.”

He and Charlie shared a look. A smirk graced her lips.

“Not a word, Miss Magne,” he said under his breath.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Malveaux.”

“Your room will be ready in a few minutes. Our bellhop will take your luggage for you.” A stout man with curly black hair approached. He wore the same outfit as the doorman, though his dark pants still held the crisp line from when they were pressed earlier that day. “Olivier, could you take their things to room 606?”

He tipped his hat in her direction, then piled their bags onto the luggage cart. “I’m on it!”

Alastor eyed the sofas in the lounge, but before he could move, he heard the shuffling of papers from behind the counter.

“So,” said Marie, “what do you two plan on doing while you’re here?”

No.

Charlie bit her lip. “I’m not sure honestly. I was only interested in the hotel,” she admitted. “Alastor did all the planning.”

Absolutely not.

“I see.” Marie nodded. “Any sites you wanted to visit with Miss Magne?”

He was not having any small talk.

“I hadn’t given it much thought,” he said, his tone clipped.

Marie’s expression brightened. “In that case, would you mind if I made some suggestions?”

“Not at all!” exclaimed Charlie.

“The Phantom of the Opera is in town,” Marie said, handing over several brochures. “Not sure if you’ve seen it yet. Broadway is probably better, but it hasn’t been to New Orleans in about a decade, so we’re all excited.”

Charlie turned to Alastor and placed Husk on his shoulder before he could say a word. She took the pamphlets from the receptionist and flipped through one.

“Is this any good?”

Marie leaned over to see what Charlie was showing her. “The Voodoo, Witchcraft and Vampires tour? If you’re into supernatural stuff, sure. There's no shortage of that around here, even at this very hotel.”

"How so?” Charlie asked.

“There’ve been countless unexplained happenings over the years. Doors that open on their own, elevators that go to the wrong floor, even shadows of kids playing in the halls! Eyewitness accounts from different times, guests, and staff. Hard to write it off as coincidence!”

What drivel. Charlie seemed to think so too, judging by her incredulous expression. If anyone knew what happened to a soul after they passed, it would be the Princess of Hell. They were either in her domain or they weren’t. It was as simple as that.

“What about this, Alastor? They have jazz bands and even a jazz museum!”

“I wouldn’t mind hearing a live session again,” he said. “It’s been ages! But I also wouldn’t mind some place . . . quieter.”

“Then you have to go to Oak Valley Plantation,” said Marie. “It’s about an hour away from here, but if you want to get away from it all, that’s your best bet! It’s like stepping back in time.”

Alastor considered her briefly. “Maybe before we leave, to wind down.”

“Excellent! I can help get you tickets for any or all of those excursions. Give me another ten or fifteen minutes to calculate—”

“We’ll do them all.” He glanced at Charlie, who couldn’t have looked more thrilled than if every sinner in Hell had been redeemed in one fell swoop. Alastor pulled all but a couple of bills from his pocket and placed them in her hand. “I trust you with the schedule, my dear.”

Charlie grasped the cash tightly. “Thank you, Al! I won’t let you down.”

“Yes, yes.” He sighed. “I’m taking a breather until our room is ready.”

“Olivier should be nearly finished if you would like to head up, Mister Malveaux. Here’s your key,” Marie said, handing him a piece of plastic. “I’ll give Miss Magne the other so she can join you when we’re done.”

Alastor held the rectangular thing awkwardly between his fingers. What odd material to use for a key.

The elevator was several paces behind them on the other side of the stairs. Leaving the two women to hash out their plans—a decision he hoped he would not come to regret—he stepped into an empty lift and pushed the backlit button with the number 6.

Husk pawed at his head, nearly knocking his glasses off.

Alastor turned, his glare ice cold. “You’re trying your luck, Husker! I’m not in the mood to be messed with. Unless you care to find out if cats really do have nine lives, I would suggest you mind yourself for the rest of the trip.”

Silence filled the compartment for the ride up to the sixth floor. The elevator’s ding! notified them of their arrival, and the doors slid open. A gold cart was parked in the hall several doors down. He could see the last of their luggage—pink, in all its shameless glory—being picked up and transported inside.

“Thank you for your hard work, my good sir!” said Alastor, steadfast in keeping the last of his remaining patience in check. He handed the man a crisp . . . twenty? Fifty? He didn’t look. “Much appreciated!”

Olivier’s eyes widened. Had he slipped him a hundred by mistake? “You’re too kind, sir! Thank you. Let me know if you need anything!” He pushed the cart back toward the lifts.

The room’s door remained open long enough to slip in. Alastor allowed it to close behind them as he placed Niffty on the ground beside him. Husk jumped from his shoulder and landed on the carpeted floor. They surveyed their accommodations.

White. It was very white. Alastor crossed over to the king-size bed and upholstered headboard, a wallpapered inset behind it. They were white. So was the bedding. As was the much smaller, more rustic chandelier hanging up above. The nightstands, the single-seated sofa, and the vanity and set of chairs at the foot of the bed.

The carpeting. The floors. The ceiling.

Everything was white. Even the bathroom gave him no reprieve.

Was this what Heaven was like?

Alastor felt like he was going mad. The only hints of color came from the trio and the baggage they had dragged along for the trip. Charlie’s and Niffty’s luggage were a sight for sore eyes against the colorless landscape that was their room.

Husk’s was too, but for very different reasons. Alastor picked up the leather bag, placed it on the vanity, and pulled out a seat. A small glass was set upside down beneath a mirror. He grabbed it and quickly zipped the bag open. The bottle of whiskey he eyed earlier clinked against a bottle of gin, and without hesitation, he twisted the cap off with his thumb and poured out a healthy amount.

Husk jumped up and hissed.

Alastor tipped his glass and downed the drink. “Even when you can’t pour, you make an excellent bartender, Husker old pal!”

An almost imperceptible beep alerted him to Charlie’s arrival. “That receptionist really knows her stuff!” She dropped a handful of brochures on the vanity, along with a much thinner stack of cash, and pulled out the seat next to him. “So, I know we’re here for research—”

“You are,” said Alastor, pouring himself another glass. “I am but the chauffer.” He picked up the money, returning it to his pocket. “And sponsor, clearly.”

Charlie hesitated. “Are you okay, Al? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drink before.”

“Well, we are on vacation, aren’t we?” This time he didn’t down the liquor in one gulp. He allowed it to linger on his tongue before swallowing, relishing the slight burn. “You were saying?”

“R-Right. I still plan on getting the full hotel experience while we’re here. Even checking in has given me so many ideas! I’ll need to take notes, so I don’t forget anything.” She took out a notepad and pen from her purse. “Everything is so luxurious, don’t you think?”

If someone enjoyed the ‘padded room’ aesthetic, then certainly.

“But I figured, we might as well take in the sights too! I can only imagine how much has changed since . . . .”

Alastor allowed the silence to hang between them.

Charlie looked around awkwardly. “I’m sorry about the bed. We can ask for more pillows to create a wall between us. If that helps.”

“You needn’t worry about me.” Alastor took another long sip before grabbing a different bottle from Husk’s bag. He read the label and realized he didn’t care what he was drinking, so long as it was strong. “I will make do.”

“I don’t want you sleeping on the floor, Al. Or in the chairs. You should be comfortable!”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get there,” he said, fumbling over the words. His accent slipped as well. “In the meantime, you should do what you set out to do! There’s a whole hotel waiting to be explored.”

Charlie stood and tipped her luggage onto the floor. “What about you? You’re not going to spend the whole day drinking, are you?”

Alastor made one last drink and toasted to her. “Well, you could say I have some research of my own. But until then”—he tipped the glass back and grimaced—“I’m starting this trip off with a bang!”

#hazbin hotel #radiobelle #charlastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #charlie morningstar #charlie x alastor #alastor x charlie #alastor malveaux #charlotte magne

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weemssapphic · 1 year

Note

adjsfh so i never really send any requests but i really like your writing style so if your requests are still open could you maybe write a smutty piece featuring submissive larissa and dominant fem!reader. the idea i had is maybe fem!reader is some sort of a supervisor that came to the school to write a report on larissa?? and larissa decided to cover up some shady stuff she did by trying to seduce her and it ends up working lol but what she hadn't thought about is that reader is more dominant than her but she ends up actually really liking that??? idk if that's like too specific feel free to add to it or like do a slightly different thing if you don't feel this would work i just want sub!larissa ahahh *slithers back into the void*

hello ahkdhsj thank you so much! i absolutely hope this does your request justice, it's also my first time writing sub!larissa so i'm just gonna post this and slither back into my very own void <3 ao3 link in title as always!

warnings/content: nsfw / pwp, sub!larissa, cunnilingus, fingering, praise kink, feel the need to mention everything is consensual (I hope that comes across)

words: ~4.2k

Dominate Me

You pulled down the long, winding drive leading towards Nevermore Academy, past striking wrought-iron gates, putting your car in park as you reached the visitor’s spots by the entrance. Glancing at the time, you realized you had a few more minutes before your scheduled appointment, so you grabbed the thick manila folder from your passenger seat and leafed through it. You’d already memorized the contents but you thought it best to take another look, to have your facts straight.

You’d been sent by the school board to investigate the principal of Nevermore, Larissa Weems. After the attacks by a “bear” (or whatever that thing out there in the forest was) had left a student in a coma, the school had come under close scrutiny. Some discrepancies had come to light regarding the earlier disappearance of another student and, well, it didn’t bode well for Nevermore - nor for Principal Weems, who appeared to be at the center of the cover-up.

Confident you were ready to face the formidable woman, whom you’d already heard so much about and whom you had to admit you were more than a little intrigued by, you stuffed the folder into your purse and stepped out of your car.

A cool breeze whipped at your face as you ascended the steps to Nevermore’s imposing entrance, pushing open the doors and searching the entry hall for a hint on which way to go.

Quickly spotting a young girl with blonde hair sporting a school uniform, you waved out a hand and stopped her in her tracks. She eyed you curiously.

“Hi, I was wondering if you could point me to Principal Weems' office?” You smiled at the girl, hoping she wouldn’t be too intimidated. She smiled back rather timidly and nodded, saying “yeah, sure” as she guided you down several hallways towards a pair of wood-paneled double doors, adorned with a shiny gold plaque that read “Principal Weems” in an elegant font.

You thanked the girl and checked your watch. Right on time. Taking one last steadying breath, you raised your fist and knocked.

– –

Larissa paced the length of her office, furious that her already busy afternoon was soon to be interrupted by the likes of some school board supervisor who was surely going to try to discredit all the hard work she’d put into Nevermore. She’d spent so many years putting her entire heart and soul into the school - she wasn’t going to let just anybody come in and tear it down. No, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. She had a reputation to uphold.

A knock on her door had Larissa nearly jumping out of her skin. She smoothed her skirt and checked her lipstick in the reflection of her cell phone, before click-clacking her way to the door to let in the visitor.

She was prepared for anything. She knew her story well - she’d rehearsed it at least a dozen times by now. And if all else failed? The art of seduction would always be on her side. Smoothing a hand over her hair and plastering on her best fake smile, she opened the door to her office.

– –

The doors to Principal Weems’ office opened and you were almost taken aback at the woman standing before you. You’d heard much about her reputation - strong, unyielding, a woman to be revered and even feared. But what had failed to reach your ears was that she was also stunning, impossibly so. She was attractively tall, with silvery curls pulled back into an elaborate updo, accentuating a long neck and smooth, high cheekbones, lips painted a rich shade of crimson…

Your admiration, however, was cut short as she peered down at you with sapphire eyes, clearly waiting for you to speak, lips pursing ever so slightly.

“Uh, hello, Principal Weems. I’m Y/N Y/L/N, from the school board. I believe we have an appointment.” You reached out your hand for the woman to shake. Her hand was warm to the touch, soft, and you had to suppress a shiver at the contact.

“Yes, of course, please come in.” Larissa gestured for you to enter and shut the door behind you. You thought you heard the faint click of a lock, though you couldn’t be sure, so you brushed it off as a trick of the imagination and waited for Larissa to guide you to one of the leather armchairs opposite her desk.

“So what brings you here today?” The blonde smiled warmly as she sat in her own chair, placing her elbows on her desk and resting her chin on her palm.

You raised an eyebrow at her before rifling through the contents of your bag and pulling out your folder. “I believe the school board informed you why I’ve been called to come by? It should have been mentioned in the letter you received on March 1st.”

Larissa pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Yes, I received your letter.”

“Good. Then let’s cut right to the chase and start at the beginning, shall we? There was a student attending Nevermore, Rowan Laslow. His disappearance was reported to you by a Miss Wednesday Addams after the Harvest Festival in Jericho, is that correct?” You eyed the principal carefully for any tells - any signs of anxiety or deceit.

What you saw, though, was mostly agitation marring the principal’s gorgeous features. “Yes, that is correct.”

“Though you claim he hadn’t disappeared at all?”

“Funnily enough, he turned up again the next day,” Larissa batted her eyelashes and cocked her head to the side, her lips turning up into a smile - it wasn’t exactly a warm smile, though, there was something decidedly bitter about it.

“Well, funnily enough, Principal Weems, his parents claim he never did return home.” You gave the principal a smile of your own, curious what the woman would say now.

Larissa stood from where she was sitting and rounded the desk, perching on the edge of it just in front of your chair. You couldn’t help the wandering of your eyes up her form, trailing over her exposed calves, the area around her stomach where her skirt bunched up just a little bit, the pale, tender flesh between her exposed collarbones.

She smirked at you, your ogling not lost on her.

“Unfortunately, what that boy does when he leaves campus is none of my concern - he was expelled, after all. And do call me Larissa, darling.” Larissa’s voice had dropped several octaves since she’d last spoken, causing a wave of desire to wash over your core.

You rose from your chair, gaining yourself some leverage in the situation. “Do you care so little for your former students?” You stepped closer to her, until there were mere inches between your bodies.

Larissa’s pupils widened imperceptibly. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating. But Rowan was a danger to this school and all of its pupils, and keeping him here was far too dangerous. If he chose to run away from his parents, well… that’s on him, I’m afraid…”

Larissa’s lips ghosted yours, her breath warm on your face.

“You think you can seduce me into writing you a glowing report, Larissa?” Your lips brushed hers, hands coming gently to her waist, allowing your fingertips to rub against the fabric there.

Larissa’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip. The tables were suddenly flipping on her - moments before she’d been in control, well on her way to, well, seducing you into giving her a glowing report for the school board. And now here you were, trying to take that control away from her. She wasn’t used to being dominated - usually she was the one with the power, the one calling the shots.

She could only shake her head feebly and feel the smile that spread across your lips as they connected with hers. Her lips were soft, warm, inviting. You spread her legs apart so that you could push one of your thighs between them, reveling in the moan that tore from her throat at the action. It reverbated against your own lips and had you swiping your tongue at her bottom lip, a silent plea for entry. Larissa parted her lips and allowed you to explore the contours of her mouth, as your hands moved to her clothed thighs.

Larissa whimpered into your mouth as your right hand slipped under her skirt and trailed along the inside of her thigh. Her center radiated heat and you couldn’t help the guttural moan that bubbled forth from your chest as you felt how damp her panties were.

You pulled back, regarding the woman in front of you with awe. Larissa’s cheeks were pink, her lipstick smudged, her chest heaving.

Her brows furrowed, little creases appearing on her forehead as she narrowed her eyes. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” She tried to sound indignant but failed, only managing to sound extremely turned on as your thigh pressed further into her center.

“You’re an attractive woman, Larissa,” you met her gaze, quirking an eyebrow and watching as her cheeks darkened considerably. You took her chin between your fingers. “I’m going to worship you the way you deserve it. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You smirked as Larissa’s mouth fell open, her blush now extending from her chest to the tips of her ears. An interesting reaction to your praise. You’d have to file that away for later. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop. Tell me to leave and I’ll go without another word, it won’t affect the report.” You needed Larissa to know she had a choice in the matter.

Larissa’s eyes searched yours for a moment, finding nothing but honesty and a mad desire to bring her mind-numbing, all-consuming pleasure. “I want it,” she confirmed.

“The door is locked?”

“Y-yes,” Larissa looked to the ground, rather sheepishly.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” you cooed. “It’s just us. Now where was I?” You grazed the backs of your knuckles over the fabric covering Larissa’s core, a sinful moan dripping from her lips as her head lolled back.

“P-please,” Larissa’s voice was low and shaky.

“Please what?” You knew what she wanted, of course you did, but you sure as hell weren’t going to make this easy for the woman.

“Please… fuck me.” Larissa’s gaze, pleading and famished, met yours, and you were happy to oblige her request.

You hooked your fingers around her underwear and slid them down her legs, planting kisses along the tender flesh of her thighs and the smooth, solid muscles of her calves as you followed them down. Discarding the underwear, you knelt before Larissa so that your head was level with her sex, suppressing a moan as you saw how wet she was for you, her cunt glistening.

Flattening your tongue, you licked a path through her folds, starting at her entrance and working your way to her clit. Larissa’s hips bucked forward and you felt a hand settle in your hair, pressing your face roughly into her cunt.

You pulled back, arching an eyebrow at the high-pitched whine you received in return. “Did I say you could touch?” Larissa’s hand dropped rather pathetically from your head and she flushed, a mixture of irritation, shame, and lust swirling in her pupils.

“Come here, gorgeous,” you cooed, reaching out a hand to Larissa for her to take as your other hand worked at the buttons of your shirt, unbuttoning them one by one at a tantalizing pace.

Larissa’s eyes were glued to your cleavage as you led her to the loveseat in front of her fireplace. You shed yourself of the button-up and guided Larissa onto her back, dragging her skirt down her legs and leaving little scratches with your nails on the flesh of her thighs as you did so.

Larissa’s hands found purchase on your own waist, pulling you in for a searing kiss. It didn’t last long, however, as you pushed yourself up and grabbed hold of her wrists, pinning them above Larissa’s head in a swift motion - you didn’t have anything to tie her up with so this would have to do. Your grip was loose but firm, wanting to provide Larissa an out while showing her who was in charge. Her pupils dilated, chest heaving as she squirmed beneath you.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me now?” Larissa seemed to fight beneath you for a moment, each of her sapphire eyes flicking between yours, breathing coming out in shallow puffs as she twisted in your grip. Slowly, her movements stilled and she nodded, cheeks dusted pink.

“Talk to me, love. Is this okay?” One of your hands held her wrists in place as the other came to cup her cheek, thumb brushing against her bottom lip. Larissa mewled, leaning into the touch.

“Y-yes, it’s okay,” she murmured, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I’m going to let go of your hands, okay? And you’re going to leave them up there - no touching unless I tell you to.” You waited for Larissa’s nod beneath you before dipping your hands under the hem of Larissa’s top and finding her bra.

You slipped your hands behind Larissa’s back, expertly unhooking the offending garment and pushing it aside before working to remove her top and latching your mouth onto her nipple, sucking at the already hardened bud as your hand began to palm the pillowy flesh of her other breast.

You switched sides, ensuring no side would feel neglected as you nipped and sucked at her chest, feeling how Larissa began to squirm beneath you as your tongue soothed over the little marks you left on her skin.

“Patience,” you chuckled, throwing Larissa a mischievous grin as you unbuttoned and removed your own slacks. Dark eyes roved over your body as you settled between her thighs, now clad only in your underwear.

You paused for a moment, drinking in the woman before you. The smooth, milky expanse of her thighs, coated in her glistening arousal, legs bent at the knee and dropped open for you. The pink flush of her heaving chest, moving in time with her ragged breaths. The soft flesh of her stomach and breasts, covered in goosebumps, nipples erect. Her long arms extended over her head, just as you had asked of her.

And that face - my god, that face. Eyes you could get lost in, staring down at you wantonly through mascara-coated lashes, batting against her high cheekbones, flushed with desire. Painted lips which had long since been smeared, parted slightly in question as you regarded her. An angel in human form.

“You are so gorgeous.” Your admission brought a fresh blush to Larissa’s cheeks. “You’re going to look so beautiful for me when I make you come.”

Larissa’s subsequent moan spurred you on as you ran a teasing finger through her folds, gathering up her arousal. You brought the finger to Larissa’s lips and she sucked it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and groaning. She released the digit with a pop that caused a fresh wave of desire to pool at your core.

“So wet for me already, hmm?”

Larissa practically purred beneath you. “God, please, please touch me.”

The low timbre of her voice spurred on your own arousal and as you brought your fingers back to Larissa’s cunt, you straddled her thigh to provide your clit with some much-needed friction.

You circled her clit with the pads of your fingers once, twice, before plunging two digits into her dripping center, moaning at the way her walls immediately began to draw you in. You began a steady pace inside of the blonde, curling your fingers into her sweet spot, creating pressure around her clit with the heel of your palm.

Larissa bucked her hips upwards with every thrust of your fingers, creating a delicious friction against your own cunt with her thigh. Your soaked panties rubbed against her skin and you rolled your hips in time with your thrusts, hissing as the seam of your panties rubbed against your throbbing clit.

She spread her legs wider, inviting your fingers deeper into her cunt. You added another finger, feeling her walls clench slightly. You could feel how close she was as her thighs began to tremble and she seemed to have trouble keeping her arms above her head as she writhed and squirmed.

– –

Meanwhile, Larissa was coming undone beneath you. She had no idea what had compelled her to follow your orders, and it should have been easy to simply take back the control and force you into submission. But some part of her couldn’t help but to be intrigued by you, the way you took control of the situation. She found it (and you, if she was being honest with herself) extremely attractive, and relinquishing her dominance might just be exactly what she needed.

Larissa dropped her thighs open, as wide as they could go, a loud moan escaping her lips as you added a third finger. She wanted so badly to reach out and touch you as she watched you fuck her, and fuck yourself on her thigh. She could feel how wet you were for her through your underwear and the thought drove her wild.

A particularly sharp thrust of your fingers had Larissa crying out, eyes rolling back into her head. She could faintly hear you whispering praises past the ringing in her ears and her entire body felt like it was ablaze. She’d never had a lover shower her with praise before and the thought of being someone’s “good girl”, of being your “good girl”, brought her over the edge.

– –

“You’re doing so well for me.” You smirked down at Larissa, watching as she panted and writhed beneath you, thighs still trembling from her first orgasm. “You think I’m done with you, pretty girl?”

Your own cunt throbbed with desire as you abandoned your seat on her thigh, still not quite having reached your own orgasm but dying for another taste of the intoxicating blonde.

You trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of Larissa’s right thigh, then her left, stopping just shy of her center each time. You kissed the blonde patch of curls at Larissa’s mound, breath ghosting just over her clit. The woman let out a needy whimper, shifting her hips in a desperate attempt to get closer to you.

You dragged your tongue through her slit, finally latching onto her clit and drawing lazy circles around the sensitive bud with your tongue. You moaned at the taste of her, a heavenly mixture of tangy and sweet, the vibrations of your moan against her cunt causing Larissa’s hips to tilt upwards, pressing herself into your mouth.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Fuck, you taste good.” You continued to lap up the juices that flowed from Larissa’s center, barely able to contain your smile at the way she rolled her hips into your mouth. You hooked your hands around her thighs, dragging her as close as you could, burying yourself in her.

“C-can I…” Larissa’s voice trailed off into a breathy groan as your tongue dipped unexpectedly into her entrance.

“Can you…?” You looked up at her in question, your eyes meeting hers, clouded with the lust of her impending orgasm.

“Can I touch you?” Her voice was almost timid as her arms twitched above her head.

“Yes,” you grinned at the sigh that escaped Larissa’s lips as she brought her hands to your hair, fingers weaving into your locks, pushing you gently but insistently back down to her pussy. You obliged, lapping at her core as her thighs tightened around your head. Her moans were muffled, punctuated with sharp pains on your scalp as long fingers wound themselves tighter into your hair. Your lips never left her clit, tongue flicking languidly as you brought her down from her high.

Her legs released you from their iron-grip and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You cleaned her up with your tongue, pressing sweet kisses to the insides of her thighs and trailing up her body - her hips, her stomach, the swell of her breasts, her throat, finally capturing her lips, which curled up into a blissed out smile at the contact.

“You’re amazing, Larissa,” you whispered, relishing the feeling of her overheated skin pressed against your own. The feeling of her nipples poking at your bare skin, the taste of her arousal still fresh on your tongue, the sound of her breathing - heavy but evening out - were all doing nothing to quell the embers glowing in the pit of your own stomach. Every nerve-ending in your body was alive, raw to the touch.

“I regret to inform you, however…” you trailed off, taking Larissa’s wrist in your hand and guiding her between your legs. “That I am still very turned on by you, my darling.” Larissa’s pupils widened as you pressed her fingers against your center - warm, wet, aching.

“Think you can take care of that for me?” At Larissa’s feverish nod, you pulled her up with you.

“Get on your knees.” The blonde slid onto the floor in front of you and folded her legs underneath her, waiting for further instruction. “Help me with these?” You shifted your hips as Larissa hooked her fingers around your underwear and dragged it down your legs.

Larissa suppressed a groan when she saw how wet you were for her. You brought your fingers down to your clit, amused at the rapt attention with which Larissa watched as you began to finger yourself.

“Think you can put that gorgeous mouth of yours to good use?” You smirked down at Larissa, who didn’t need to be told twice as she placed her palms on your knees, spreading your legs as she settled her head between your thighs. She wasted no time in flattening her tongue against your sex, running it up your slit until she found your throbbing bud. Your hands found purchase in her curls, neither of you caring that you were ruining her perfectly coiffed updo as you pushed yourself into her, fucking yourself on her face.

“I’m so close,” you panted. “Fuck- you look so good fucking me, you’re being s-so good for me.” Larissa moaned into you and your nails dug into her scalp, your hips canting upwards rhythmically to meet her face.

Your arousal dripped down Larissa’s chin as she picked up her pace against your cunt. The coil in your abdomen was winding tighter and tighter and as Larissa’s tongue began to tease at your entrance, dipping into your core, you felt yourself begin to come undone. Her thumb came up to brush against your clit, determined to prolong your pleasure as stars began to explode behind your eyes.

Once you had steadied your breathing, you leaned down, capturing Larissa’s lips for a sweet kiss, your own taste still fresh on her tongue.

You offered your arms out to the woman. She seemed hesitant, but ultimately allowed you to pull her half onto your lap, her head on your chest, your fingertips tracing soothing patterns over the smooth expanse of her back. She didn’t seem like the type who often (ever?) relinquished control, so you were happy to give her a few seconds to ground herself.

You nuzzled your face into Larissa’s hair, almost involuntarily - she smelled of peonies and jasmine, soft and feminine, a heavenly combination. Her breathing began to even out against the bare skin of your chest and you couldn’t help the low chuckle that escaped your lips.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, Larissa,” you murmured into her hair.

Larissa peered up at you, an eyebrow quirked up in mock-offense. “Do I seem like the type?”

You grinned. “Not at all. I should be going though. I do hope you didn’t have any other meetings lined up after mine.” You nodded towards the clock on the wall.

Larissa’s eyes followed yours and a groan fell from her lips.

“Try not to act too disappointed. Against my expectations, I rather enjoyed our meeting.” Larissa couldn’t have looked more adorable in that moment if she’d tried - cheeks pink, curls falling into wide eyes, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “It - it did take a rather unexpected turn. I can’t say I’m disappointed at the outcome… That is, unless…?”

“You mean the report? As far as I’m concerned, Rowan simply… How did you put it? Ran away?” Your smirk widened at the relieved smile you received from the principal.

Larissa eased herself from the couch, reaching for her clothes and dressing herself. You followed suit, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the blonde’s bare skin. After combing through your hair and wiping away remnants of Larissa’s lipstick from your face, you gathered up your belongings and headed towards the doors, Larissa on your heels to see you out.

As Larissa began to ease the door open, you turned to meet her gaze.

“You might want to, you know,” you gestured to the smudge of crimson that stained her chin. Comprehension dawned on her face, followed by a mischievous smirk as she leaned down to match your height, planting a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Yeah, you too,” she gestured to the lipstick mark she’d just left behind.

With a chuckle and a shake of your head, you bid the principal goodbye and walked back to your car, wondering just how you would convince the school board to send you back to Nevermore again.

thank you to @afeatherformills and @scumppa for beta-reading <3 and tagging @orchidsshine and @sapphicsbeloved bc i think i remember you guys asking to be tagged in things but also correct me if i'm wrong hehe

#larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems

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