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moonstruckme · 9 months ago

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poly!wolfstar x reader or whimsical!reader would be absolutely wholesome Maee!! Love and hugs 💖 have a lovely day 💫

(to clarify I'm not the anon who mentioned wolfstar previously. I'm just a lovesick of these two lol. hope the request is ok! Sending good vibes your way✨)

Awh I love them so much! Thanks for requesting sweetheart, hope you have a lovely day too <3

cw: squished snail :(

poly!wolfstar x whimsical!reader ♡ 900 words

Remus comes home, juggling his umbrella with three drinks from the coffee shop down the street, to find you and Sirius kneeling outside your front door. You seem to be placing dead leaves in a circle around a wet-looking smudge on the ground.

“Um.” He steps under the overhang of your roof, adjusting his hold on the drinks to set down his umbrella. “What’s going on?”

“We’re surrounding the snail with dead plants so it can be nourished in the next life,” Sirius says easily. Like this is something he does often. “Watch your step, handsome.”

Remus heeds the warning, stepping carefully around the circle and behind the two of you. That’s when he notices your clothes.

For Sirius, wearing black isn’t so unusual. He knows it sets off his tattoos and comparatively milky complexion, and he loves nothing more than a dramatic juxtaposition. But you, Remus didn’t even know you owned clothes this colorless. Your dress is loose and flowy, an inky black that’s more of a contrast against your generally lighthearted disposition than it’s ever been against Sirius’ coloring. You look lovely as always, but like a dulled version of your usual self.

“Are we having a funeral?” Remus asks carefully.

Your posture is slumped, droopy as a weeping willow. “Yeah,” you reply glumly. “I went to take out the trash, and I couldn’t see in front of me. I crushed them.” Your voice seems to quiet further at the end, some mixture of shame and mourning clogging your throat.

“Them?”

“The snail,” Sirius clarifies. He rubs between your shoulder blades. “It was an accident, sweetheart.”

You nod, taking in a bolstering breath. “A funeral feels like the least I can do to try to honor them after cutting their life short.”

“Oh, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Remus kneels on your other side, ignoring Sirius’ sharp look when he can’t help a little grunt at the ache in his joints. He sets your drinks where they won’t get knocked over. “Maybe this was a very old snail, and you found it at the end of its life.”

“I just hope they didn’t leave a family behind,” you fret.

“I’m sure even if they did,” he says, reaching for his most reassuring tone, “their family would appreciate what a nice resting place you’ve made for them.” He pets the back of your head. “And that you’ve dressed up so nicely to say goodbye.”

You turn your face towards the ground, and Remus notices a soft pout to your bottom lip. Sirius seems to spot it at the same time. The other boy lifts your chin to kiss at it sweetly.

“Do you want to say a few words, lovely?”

Remus smiles over the top of your head at his softhearted boyfriend. Were it anyone else, Sirius would be making endless fun of them for creating such a fuss over a snail’s death, but because it’s you he’s in all the way. (Evidently, he’s learned his lesson after the time he squashed a mosquito in cold blood. You would hardly look at him for days until he apologized.)

You nod, clearing your throat. “I hope you’re going somewhere with tall grass,” you say, “and lots of soft, wet dirt. And I hope this food gives you sustenance for the journey.”

You mean the dead leaves, Remus supposes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “I’m sure it appreciates that, darling.”

“And if you want to reincarnate as an elephant to step on me, I completely understand.”

“Oh.” Sirius coughs. “Don’t we think that’s a bit far?”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees. “You’ve put yourself through enough already, that’s probably not necessary.”

You look between your boyfriends, bemused. “I’m only trying to make things fair. I killed them first.”

“I just think we ought to have a bit more faith in this snail,” says Sirius. “I doubt they’re out for revenge; they strike me as the forgiving sort. No need to relinquish yourself to an untimely squishing.”

You frown. “I suppose you’re right. Snails don’t have very long memories anyway, so as a group they might not be very inclined to hold grudges…”

“Exactly.” He gives your shoulder a loving pat. “Now, it looks like Remus has brought us something. Haven't you, handsome?”

Remus gives you both a small smile, reaching for your drinks. “Here’s a coffee, and a tea for you, dove. Let’s get out of the cold and drink them inside, yeah?”

“Okay.” You give the snail one last, speaking look before starting to stand.

Sirius hurries to Remus’ side, forcing him to use the other boy for support as he straightens up, knees protesting.

“Your hair’s all wet,” he murmurs.

“I know,” Sirius gripes under his breath, but Remus can hear the fondness hidden beneath his grousing. “I figured you’d be upset if I let her go out in the rain to find her ceremonial leaves alone.”

Remus chuckles and kisses his part. “I’ll make some soup before you both catch cold.”

“She’ll only think it’s karmic if we do.”

“No, not really.” Sirius hasn’t kept his voice quiet enough to avoid your hearing, and now you’re looking at him with an earnest bemusement. “It would be karmic if I got sick, but you haven’t done anything wrong, Sirius.”

Remus tsks. “I think you’ve repented enough already, dove,” he says. “Let’s get you both dried off.”

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thedilfdiaries · 1 month ago

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hi @evolnoomym , my wifey. I hope you enjoy this lil moodboard and tiny fic for your blog birthday celebration. Happy 1 year to your beautiful blog and for your presence in this space. it wouldn't be the same without you here. I love you moonie <3

708 words // prompt was Joel + birthday🎂

Note: A big thank you to @thundermartini for always hyping me up. You are the best, and I love you! 💖 and to my twin @sawymredfox for always being so sweet and being such a wonderful cheerleader. love you lots 🫂❤️

You glance over at Sarah, who’s balancing on the edge of the couch, carefully taping up the last of the decorations. The banner is a little crooked, but neither of you really mind. Joel won’t either. The small living room is lit up with cheap, colorful streamers, and the cake you both spent way too long making sits proudly on the coffee table. It’s a little lopsided, and Sarah got carried away with the frosting, but it’s perfect.

“He’s gonna love it,” she whispers, eyes shining with excitement.

“You think so?” you ask, nudging her gently.

Sarah grins. “Oh, for sure. He’s gonna act all grumpy about the party hat, though.”

You laugh because you can already picture it. “We’ll make him wear it anyway.”

The sound of Joel’s truck pulling into the driveway sends you both scrambling into place. You hit the lights, crouching behind the couch just as the front door creaks open. His footsteps are heavy, tired.

“Sarah? Sweetheart, where—”

“Surprise!” you both yell, flipping the lights back on.

Joel damn near jumps out of his skin, hand flying to his chest as he takes in the decorations, the cake, the two of you grinning like fools. His brows lift, and for a second, he just stands there, blinking.

“What the hell is all this?” he asks, voice gruff but warm.

Sarah runs up, throwing her arms around him. “Your birthday, duh.”

He huffs, shaking his head, but he hugs her tight before pulling you in too. “You two didn’t have to do all this.”

You press a kiss to his cheek. “We wanted to.”

Joel groans when you place the little paper party hat on his head. “Really?”

Sarah giggles. “Really. Now sit down, we have one more thing for you.”

She pulls a small box from behind her back and hands it to him, practically bouncing on her heels as he unwraps it. His brows knit together when he sees what’s inside.

“No way,” he murmurs, lifting his old watch. The cracked face is gone, the hands ticking smoothly along. He turns it over, inspecting it like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “How did you—?”

“You always said you’d get it fixed, but you never did,” Sarah says, suddenly a little shy. “So, I did it for you. Took it to the shop last week.”

Joel hums, looking down at the watch, then back up at her. “Did you?” he teases, holding it up to his ear with a mock-serious expression.

Sarah gasps, swatting at his arm. “Yes, I did!”

Joel chuckles, finally slipping it onto his wrist. “It’s perfect, baby girl. Thank you.” He pulls her into a crushing hug, his face pressed into her hair. “Means the world to me.”

The night ends with all three of you curled up on the couch, watching his favorite movie. Joel stretches his arm along the back of the couch, his fingers lazily tracing circles against your shoulder. Sarah is nestled against his other side, the flickering screen casting soft light over her face.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, kiddo,” Joel warns, giving her a gentle nudge.

Sarah scoffs, tilting her head up at him. “I won’t.”

Not five minutes later, her breathing evens out, her head slumping against his shoulder.

Joel sighs, shaking his head. “Every damn time.”

You stifle a laugh. “Told you.”

He huffs, shifting carefully so she stays comfortable.

You pull a small envelope from your pocket, handing it to him. “One more present.”

His brows furrow as he opens it, pulling out a single guitar pick and the folded letter tucked inside. You watch his throat bob as he reads, his fingers tightening slightly around the paper.

“You got me…” He swallows. “The guitar?”

You nod, squeezing his hand. “It’s waiting for you at the shop. Figured you deserved something that’s just for you.”

Joel turns to you, his face unguarded in the dim glow of the TV. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin before he leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulls away, his voice is thick with something unspoken. “I don’t deserve you.”

You smile, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “Yeah, you do.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #evolnoomymsfirstbirthdaycelebration

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Unraveled 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: A curious man wanders into your dress shop with a lot of questions.

Characters: Sherlock Holmes (Cavill)

Note: thanks for waiting on this one.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The carriage stops outside a brick building. A walk-up in Marleybone, just along Upper Baker Street. An address you couldn’t even dream of living near, let alone within. You peer up at the facade, the orange brick unstained by the coal and smoke of the backstreets.

Gavin appears to open the door and sets a step down before you can emerge. He offers his hand gallantly and you let him assist you down to the road. You thank him as you peer up at the arched front door of 221b.

“You need only knock, miss,” Gavin goes to pat the horse’s haunch as it kicks. “Ask for Mr. Holmes, he is expecting you.”

You grip your bag tight and set your chin. You might not belong but only you are troubled by it. You climb the steps alongside the iron rail and lift the heavy knocker mounted on the thick wooden door. It’s clang rattles even you.

You wait, both hands on the handles of the bag. Gavin appears behind you with the rolls of fabric, breathless as he struggles to keep them from touching the ground. You return your attention to the door as it opens.

“Hello, I’m looking for Mr.--”

“Holmes,” the very man you’re seeking stands before you, “forgive me, my housekeeper... resigned.”

“Not to worry, sir,” you assure him.

“Come in,” he backs up, gesturing you within with his large hand. “And how was your journey? I hope you didn’t come upon any scoundrels.”

“Only upon her destination, sir,” Gavin japes as he steps in behind you.

“Eh,” Holmes tilts his head at the driver, “allow me.”

Holmes takes the rolls of fabric from Gavin. He hugs them effortlessly in on arm as he faces you again, dismissing the driver with no more than a nod. You stand rigidly by the wall, hesitant to go any further. The door closes and the click makes you flinch.

“Allow me to show you around,” Holmes offers, looming in the tight space of the entryway.

“I need only see your sister,” you insist.

“Ah, yes, Enola, you will, but it only polite to get you acquainted with the space,” he rebuffs.

“With respect, sir, I’ve come out of my way and without warning to this appointment. More work does await me at my shop,” you squeeze the leather handles until they squeak, “it is a lovely home, I’m sure, but I’ve come upon business, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but it wouldn’t take very long,” he counters, “yet, if you’d rather keep this formal, by all means, I will take you to my sister.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You bite down, wondering if perhaps you were more curt than you should be. The apartment is rather far from your neighbourhood and the travel time alone will impose upon your ongoing commissions. You don’t expect he considered that. He does seem the type to command rather than ask.

He directs you to the stairs, just across from the door, and waves you onward. He follows as your skirts brush the top of your boots with each step. The wallpaper is tightly decorated with framed newspapers and portraits, cluttered together but not garishly so.

You get to the top and he advises you to go left. You obey as he keeps pace.

“Did you... discover what led to that woman’s fate? Or who she was?” You ask as you take measured steps.

He isn’t demure as he walks next to you, crowded against you as his broad figure allows for little space, “sadly, yes and no. Not her name. Only that she was a factory woman. I won’t say much on the matter as it is ongoing and confidentiality is a part of my contract, I would only gird you to keep your doors locked and yourself alert.”

You chew on his answer. It makes you nervous. You know the woman was found close to your shop and home. The news has been whispered for blocks.

“I will be sure to hede your advice,” you say.

You walk past a door as he stops to knock on it. You spin back, skirts swirling around you, and he glances at you as he plants his hand on the door frame. There is activity from within, scratching and creaking. He sighs and stands straight as he slides his hand down the pillar. He raps with his knuckles again.

“Enola,” he booms through, his voice shaking you. “I told you to be ready.”

You hear furious footsteps and the lock flicks back with similar furor. It opens and a young woman with a slumping bun greets Mr. Holmes. Strands fall loose from the clip and her blouse is half untucked as her sleeves are rolled to her elbows. She has a long oval face, flushed as she shows her teeth.

“I told you, I’m busy--”

“Not so busy that you would waste this good woman’s time,” Holmes insists, “she traveled all this way. We discussed this.”

She flutters her lashes and huffs. Her eyes flit over to you and she softens her expression, “if her time is wasted, it is hardly my fault.”

“Hm,” he hums flatly, “isn’t it? It wasn’t I who fed your dresses to the furnace.”

She smiles, a smug look that pinches her cheeks, “I was cold.”

“Sister,” he warns dangerously, crossing his arms, his breadth wider than ever.

“You know what, I welcome her company. Much preferable to your own,” the woman sneers and turns her shoulder to her brother, “come on, then. Suppose I need a dress for the banquet.”

You inch forward. A flare of resent burns in you at the position Mr. Holmes has put you in. Plainly, this appointment was not upon his sister’s behest. She holds the door for you and her brother exhales deeply.

“All you need do is stand still, I’m certain you can handle that, sister,” he rebukes, “do let me know when you are finished and I will call the carriage.”

“Thank you,” you utter without looking at him. He sets the rolls just inside the door and backs up to watch you.

You enter the bedroom and find it cluttered and cramped. There are books in stacks with more littered around the bottom. A dried-up paint palette and an easel draped over with several jackets and unpaired stockings. There is a four-post bed with scrambled covers and a canopy twisted around the poles. Vials upon vials line shelves and an inkwell stands uncapped over untidy sheets of paper.

“Very well,” the woman shuts the door, “I am Enola, the famous detective’s ne’er do well sister and you are the seamstress who will make me a peacock.”

You stare at her and swallow tightly. You offer your name before you begin, “I’ve only come upon his request--”

“Ah, yes, I’m certain you have. He’s still trying to make a lady of me. I see through his guise, though he doesn’t think it. He underestimates me, see. He lies but I will go along for I will more easily avoid his snare if I do.”

You nod and narrow your eyes. The wealthy can always afford to be so eccentric. You don’t think any woman you know would view a new dress as such a curse. She is young, she cannot know.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll only take your measurements,” you offer, “I can always fit upon the dress form.”

“Do what you must,” she sighs, “shall I strip down?”

You put your bag on a chair as she unbuttons her blouse, “not-- if you--” You look up at her as she reveals a corset and reaches to undo her skirt. You focus on your bag and scoop out your measuring tape.

You approach her as her skirt heaps at her feet. She is tall, her legs on long, her figure lithe. You begin your work silently. She raises her arms as you request and puts them back down.

“Suppose if I wasn’t here, I might’ve become a dressmaker. I always enjoyed stitching,” she muses as you scribble down each number, “it seems lonely work. Quiet work.”

“It’s work,” you say as you take out the envelope and unfold the page to examine the dress again. You hold it up and glance past it at Enola.

“May I see that?” She asks but doesn’t await an answer before she snatches the paper. “Oh, is this really what he chose? No, no, no, this won’t do. I want my shoulders covered.”

You slip the envelope back in your bag, “it is only what I was given. If you prefer adjustments, it is your dress.”

“Yes, my dress and my body,” she crumples the paper and tosses it onto the rug.

You close up your notebook and go to the rolls of fabric, “would it be too much for me to do some piecework?”

“If you insist,” she pouts.

You take out your scissors and turn your back to her. She isn’t rude, per se, but you’re not in the habit of associating with this sort of clientele. You get numbers on a sheet and you sew. A living form is not quite your forte.

-🪡

When you finish, you can sense Enola’s agitated impatience. You don’t blame her. It’s plain she didn’t want the dress or your visit. It is more so upon the shoulders of her brother. Mr. Holmes. You’re similarly irked that he would put you in this position.

Enola is already fiddling with some instrument before you can go. You emerge and pull the door shut after you. You stand in the hallway, bag at the crook of your elbow as you hug the fabric. You move with hampered steps towards the stairs. As the top creaks beneath your weight, your name is called from further down the hallway.

“Ah, are you set then?” Mr. Holmes asks as he stops just outside a door, “I was thinking, to make up for your efforts, you might want to stay for tea.”

You look down at your armful and back to him, “that’s very generous, but--”

“I believe I paid an adequate fee for the appointment,” he strides slowly towards you, “but I am open to a barter if it was not sufficient.”

You feel the heavy sovereign tucked into your jacket. You crook your lips and raise your chin, “no sir, it will do for today and the making of the dress. The fabric... I don’t have any as rich as the style requested.”

“Another service I may require of you. If you wouldn’t mind to select the material, I would be happy to reimburse the expense.”

“Would there be a colour? A fabric preferred? Velvet? Satin? Chiffon?” You prompt, “I solely work in cotton and wool, as I forewarned.”

“Perhaps we might find a fabric seller at Covent Garden? You could accompany me on my next sojourn--”

“I don’t know if I would have the time. I could write down some fabrics which would suit the silhouette we agreed upon,” you offer.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you are rather professional. How about tea, then? Melinda from across the road sent some mutton over.”

“The hour should see me back to my shop,” you shift your bag.

“You are fastidious,” he stops before you and puts a hand on the fabric, “please, allow me, you are overburdened.”

“I’m--”

You can’t argue as he takes the fabric from you. You let him have it if only to avoid disaster you lean back on your heel. He angles the rolls under his arm easily and grins. A curl strays down his forehead.

“I suppose you are right, given recent events, it would be best to see you home before the evening sets,” he says, “I would gladly see you home safe, miss.”

He is overly polite, or perhaps you aren’t used to it. It is his home, he supplied the carriage, and he has paid generously. It makes each denial feel trite.

“If you must, but I would be just fine on my own comportment,” you accept.

“It isn’t any fuss, I will fetch a jacket and the driver,” he extends his arm past you, “after you.”

You spin on your heel and face the staircase. You descend with your hand on the railing. As you come to the bottom, you wander towards the entry way and take in the fineness of the decor. Is much more becoming than your slanted rooms.

Mr. Holmes places the rolls just beside the door and takes a jacket from the rack. He pulls it on and tells you to wait before he disappears outside. You linger as you are, sliding your bag down to your hands.

When he returns, he reaches within to retrieve the fabric first. “Gavin is bringing up the carriage,” he declares and offers his free arm, “shall we?”

You consider him. You wouldn’t want to be unkind. You step through the door, pulling it shut as you accept his bent arm, your hand in the crook. He accompanies you down the narrow steps, each step crowded by his.

Gavin appears in the driver’s seat and reins the horse to a halt. The beast looks miserable. Mr. Holmes escorts you to the door and releases you to open it. He helps you with a strong hand and you sit within with your bag on your lap. He shoves the fabric in ahead of him, his head bowed as he fits through the small door.

He closes it with a snap and settles on the bench on the other side of you. You stare across at the cotton, expecting he’d have taken that seat instead. His leg is on your skirt.

You keep your hands on your bag. He knocks on the ceiling and the carriage rumbles into motion. You rock with it along the street, silent as you wring the leather handles.

“I hope my sister did not cause too much stress. I know she can be a lot but she’s old enough now. She should start behaving as a lady,” he spreads a large hand across his thigh. “Perhaps, once she finds a husband, that will be easier.”

You nod, uncertain of a proper response.

“Not to mean... I don’t mean to assume, I am known however for my observations, and I have concluded you are not married,” he continues, “I gather if it were the case, you might not have a shop to sew in.”

“Suppose not,” you reply dully.

“It is only to say that my opinion of my sister isn’t general. A woman such as yourself is admirable.”

“A spinster?” You supply.

“I didn’t--”

“I’ve chosen not to marry, that is true. I am not bothered by that fact,” you say, “isn’t that what you deal in, detective, facts?”

“Fair,” he shifts on the bench, “but not everyone can detach emotion from facts.”

“And why should I be emotional about that fact? I am much more happier than any woman could be with a husband,” you stare at the opposite wall of the carriage. “And I will assume, sir, as I am no detective, that you have neither taken to the altar.”

He curls the fingers on his left hand, “I have not.”

“And I’m certain you enjoy your bachelor lifestyle in your grand apartment,” you return, “while my own is not so extravagant, I find solace in it. On that, I think you might understand me.”

He takes a breath and lets it out with a thoughtful hum, “I suppose we are similar in some way.”

#sherlock holmes #dark sherlock holmes #dark!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x reader #unraveled #enola holmes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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magistralucis · 1 year ago

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@absolut--kurant!

Kitty stomp

#unmute for some sparkly noises ✨💖✨💖🐈#good morning my dear friend!#yesterday was the final day of the holiday for you wasn't it! are you coming back today or have you already set out?#i guess i'll find out soon enough but 😅#*hugs a lot* i hope you had a good holiday and rest... sending you lots of love #💖💖💖💖💖#catte

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1920sladydectective · 5 months ago

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Okay but… first of all I LOVE your writing. It’s amazing and I’m so hyped for the miniseries!! (Please tag me if possible 💖)

Would you ever write for a reader who is very good friends with Mel (maybe college or coworkers or just generally friends) and when she meets Ambessa she just has the biggest crush?? The forbidden-smut-overall tension would send me 💔

Hello sweetpea,

Thank you for all your support, you're a star. Here is part one of this University friend sex AU situation. I will be writing more and it will be an angsty, smut to love tension fest, for now this is the silly set up and initial sex. I hope you like! 4.2K, not proofread.

Ambessa is kinder here, as in modern worlds she couldn't be a warlord to me and I fancied making her a more playful, enticing woman like she can be in canon. She's still a bad parent but less so I guess?

I'm British and was picking Saltburn half the time lol

Writing slowed as my assignments killed me, hoping to get back to it without burning myself out

xoxo

WARNINGS: Drug use, Alcohol Use, Age Gap Sex, Best Friend's Mum sex, degradation and praise, silly uni kids being uni kids.

Mel’s offer to spend the summer at her childhood home was a blessing. With your mother gone and your father on an oil rig, you were not looking forward to spending summer alone in your hometown.

This was a little much however. She’d called it a bit over dramatic as you pulled onto a private road, but driving up you saw a stately manor with its own forest surrounding it. You called that rich as fucking shit. It loomed over its surroundings and if Mel was to be believed, its owner was much the same.

You knew Mel had money, though she was a generous and likeable person who was very open about it, she reeked of it without her open disclosures. The sleek Land Rover you had road tripped in was another obvious case, spacious for two and perfect for endless roads of Katy Perry blasting.

Somehow, despite the excitement, you knew staying here was going to have its troubles. Even if it was as small as getting lost on the way to the bathroom.

Mel’s mother was another thing to be tense about. She was exacting and harsh and apparently devoid of all love. Despite this Mel was happy to return home for the ten week summer, perhaps because she had you as a shield.

A man, a Butler, by the name of Rictus came out to greet you and collect your things, taking them to your respective rooms as Mel dragged you along on a half hearted, sarcastic tour. Her entryway was larger than your flat and it made you snort. Paintings worth more than you were fucking everywhere and of course she had a huge, regal looking cat.

“Mina is very aggressive,” Mel muttered, “I think it’s the only reason Mother tolerates her,”

“Hello Mina, I shall give you your space,” You said calmly, the ornate ball of fur screeching at you and running away.

Her departure heralded the matriarch, and Mel’s face stilled.

“Mel, my darling,” Her voice was amused, her stature and look mesmerising as she emerged from a side room, “I would have come to greet you had I known it was this afternoon you’d be arriving,”

“You did know,” Mel scoffed into her mother’s sudden and short hug, before rolling her eyes in your direction.

“And you must be Mel’s little friend, come to stay,”

“She has a name,”

You did and it stumbled out of your lips, an unsure smile on your face. Why did Mel’s mum have to be the hottest woman you had literally ever seen? “Thank you for having me, Mrs Medarda,”

“The pleasure’s mine, Dear,” Her sharp focus was solely on you and you felt suddenly very breakable, “I do hope you enjoy our hospitality,”

Mel gripped your arm, dragging you away with platitudes to her mother about seeing her at dinner. Once you’d made it to her (ridiculous, opulent, crazy) bedroom, she let out a huff.

“I’m sorry about her, she isn’t around a lot so we won’t have to worry about it too often,”

“It’s okay,” Your voice was calming, giving your friend a winning smile, “Anything beats an empty flat and working in a coffee shop,”

You began to regret that reassurance once you sat opposite Mel eating a bowl of french onion soup. It felt like you were intruding on a private moment, jabs and quips hidden behind flowery words as the Medarda women tore each other to shreds. It was the first time you’d seen Mel on the back foot.

Rictus seemed used to it, serving food and sorting through the house as their voices rose. You learned this was his last day before a long holiday and clearly he had decided it was not worth pitching in his opinions when Mel or Ambessa asked for them.

Instead, Ambessa drew you into the conversation against her daughter's wishes, tugging opinions from you about food and schooling and her house. Each one seemed to widen her smirk, golden orbs fixed on you. She felt warm, inviting to you, in the way a lion would. Majestic but deadly. Fatigued and stuck in a power struggle, you ate tiramisu in silence. Then Ambessa mentioned the party.

“Mother really,” Mel groaned, “Must you?”

“Must I have my annual summer party in my own house? Same as I do every year?” She scoffed, fixing her with a colder stare.

“I-I don’t know, could be fun,” It was clear in Mel’s eyes you were a traitor, though she wished to appease both friend and host.

“Exactly, thank you dear,” Her warm smile shone on you again, “and you girls can help me,”

“Of course,” Mel rolled her eyes, seemed you’d laid your bed and she would make you lie in it, “She especially would love that, she has an eye for culinary arts,”

What a lie. You burnt water. Ambessa didn’t seem to notice or care.

Several days passed like this, basking in the sun, swimming in the pool and being the unintentional deciding vote in Medarda madness. Kino, Mel’s brother, seemed to usually fill that role and favoured Mel constantly. You, however, were a more even bet and that seemed to delight Ambessa. Mel was right about the ridiculously large orchestra, Ambessa’s view on the food timings made more sense. This went on and on for the first two weeks as you settled into a routine. Ambessa seemed to be around constantly, far more than Mel was used to and Kino would not return until the night of the party. Everything seemed to be balancing as well as it could until the day the party arrived and you realised with a resounding slap to the soul that you had a crush on Ambessa Medarda.

It was fucked. You knew that. She was your friend’s mum and a scary, mysterious woman to boot. But she was also light and funny and beautiful. She made you feel special and considered and opened her home to you, lavishing you in a luxury you had never known. Sometimes it felt personal, like her eyes lingered to spark heat on your skin. Her hands would brush yours as she passed a plate at the table, she would leave tea for you on the kitchen island as you always rose just after her. It was maddening and probably in your head.

This dreadful, eye opening doomed, morning started with Mina the cat. Fruit tea firmly in your grasp, you made your way to the library. Instead of finding it empty, you heard Ambessa’s velvet tone, eyes catching the back of her as she stroked the bundle of evil fluff.

“Now, my little demon,” Ambessa muttered, “You have mutilated my favourite scarf and for that you shall suffer, how do you plead?”

Mina growled, nibbling on her long, strong, beautiful- nibbling on her fingers.

“I see, into the fire you go,” She muttered, faking a throw into the cold, ash coated harth as Mina skipped off under the bookshelves instead, “On the lam? I should have guessed,”

Your little snort travelled, her eyes snapping to meet yours as she raised an eyebrow. Whoops fuck.

“Another criminal in our midst,” She smiled, teeth glinting, “Though I’d say you’re less slippery, darling,”

Darling. Fuck. You were doomed.

It was then that the realisation had hit, and molten fear and excitement curdled in your stomach. She was muttering about how you could help her with party preparations, words smoothing over you like gentle waves as you nodded. Somehow you were in the kitchen again, in an apron more expensive than your car cutting carrots and listening to her hum Frank Sinatra of all things.

Mel didn’t come down until well past noon, obviously intentional on her part as you popped the last of the prepped food in the multitude of fridges. The rest was being done by caterers, but Ambessa had had you prepare her staples for the one hundred and fifty guests. You wondered how they’d all fit, but it was a stupid thought. She could have had thousands here with little trouble.

“Somebody has been a little Angel,” Ambessa said, voice light as she locked eyes with you, “and it isn’t you, Mel,”

“Spare me,” She sighed, eating a cereal bar, “Has she broken your spirit yet?”

“Can’t break what I haven’t got,” You quipped, looking away from the older Medarda with burning cheeks.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” It was quiet, blink and you’d miss it, but Ambessa had definitely muttered that in your ear as she wandered through to answer a call from the decorators.

Mel grinned, grabbing your hand, “We need to go and get ready, buy lunch out and get space before we’re swallowed whole by mum’s elitist world,”

You followed after her to the car, not having the heart to mention she was firmly one of those elitists herself.

When you returned, nails and hair freshly styled upon Mel’s insistence, there was a red Bently in the drive. Your friend practically threw herself out of the car, hip bashing on the door as she ran inside.

You were met with a tender reunion, brother and sister rambling over each other as Ambessa leaned against the doorframe with a grin, her eyes caught yours for a moment before she embraced her two children.

Slipping away, you gave them their space as you rifled through your clothes and hung up your dress. It was pretty, it would suit you and it was now the nicest thing you owned. Guests would be arriving in an hour and you used the lull to enjoy your own thoughts, makeup applied with deft hands.

Knowing what you knew about your feelings, it would have been wise to prepare yourself for the sight of an even more fancy Ambessa. You didn’t and so naturally you nearly died. It simply wasn’t right, how ethereal she was. You licked your lips, heart smashing against your ribs as you came to rest at the entrance. Like a line of prize animals, Ambessa had lined up her children and it seemed from her waving hand, you were to participate in this presentation. Kino was all crinkles and kind laughs, instantly making him likeable. Somehow, he still stayed your third favourite Medarda, and it felt like a betrayal to debate who held the first spot whilst the daughter held your hand playfully and the mother’s eyes ran over your exposed legs.

Bollocks.

The greeting system felt archaic and yet entirely Medarda. This was the upper echelons and you were a pretty little ornament of the working class to be questioned and nodded at patronisingly. Ambessa had smiled in her swirling red wine several times at orange housewives’ pitying glances as you mentioned your plans to work after university. God forbid. It took an hour and a half for people to trickle in, all seemingly knowing your name as apparently it had been included in the hosts section of the invitation. Mel was best at schmoozing, leaving you and Kino to trade glances and giggle at each other.

There was little to be done after that, with every Medarda’s attention divided as you floated in the background, having insanely good food and drinking enough to kill a horse. When the condescension became too much you retreated to the empty games room, finding an equally reclusive Mina. It seemed that today for whatever reason she was willing to tolerate you, stealing nibbles of your salt and vinegar crisps as you sat curled in the glow of the fairy lights. It was odd to rest in a beanbag that wasn’t lumpy and ripping at the seams, the leather supporting you perfectly

“Enjoying the party?” Sweet silk asked, wrists melodic with bangles.

“Yes Ambessa, of course,” You rushed out, “It really is marvellous,”

“Don’t lie, child,” She says with a snort, joining you on an opposite beanbag, “They’re a bunch of shits and yet they give me lots of money, so here they sit rotting away the soul of my house every summer,”

It felt rich coming from her and yet you nodded like you understood. Her hand moved in a sweeping arch, a thickly packed joint suddenly appearing in your eyeline.

“Let’s make it more fun, shall we?”

You laughed, loud and unbidden. You were going to smoke with Ambessa Medarda. There was no way in hell you would say no, whether it was a trap or not. An unnecessarily fancy gold lighter lit the end as she sucked it between those plump crimson lips, leaving a pretty ring for your own to rest upon. It felt seductive, how your lips caressed where hers had laid, your own tinging a slight pink as you passed it back and forth.

This was some quality shit, even you knew that. It was easy to tell because it was blowing your fucking socks off. Everything swam in a pleasant buzz, as she murmured tale after stupid tale about the party’s attendees until you were howling with laughter, tears leaking out of your eyes.

Ambessa liked you like this, unbidden and open as you basked in your amusement and relaxation. If she had known seeing you like this would be easy, she would have offered you drugs your first day. When she said as much, her tongue a little looser, you giggled again as you finished the joint.

You were useless after that. She wore it better, all it did was make her calmer, tone more sultry. You were in awe of her, and Mina clearly didn’t care for your harsh tugs as you hung on her every word.

Mel found you forty minutes later, higher than the empire state building with a plate piled high with goodies for you and Ambessa to share.

“Fuck off,” Mel growled, eyes widening at her mother’s easy smile, “You’ve left me alone to host so you can soak my friend in drugs?”

“I soaked too, Mel, I’m not mad,”

You giggled, half choking on a brioche stuffed with lobster. Mel silenced you as you inhaled an olive.

“You could handle it, Dear,” Ambessa said affectionately, “You always were my little social butterfly,”

“I thought I was a fox,” Mel snapped, “You look less like a wolf and more like a malfunctioning hyena,”

That set you off again, your hand covered your mouth as your shoulders shook. This seemed to be the final straw for Ambessa as she fell into giggles too.

“I-” A loud huff, “Damn you both, I hate you,”

Mel stormed out, leaving you behind to recover from your mindless adventure. It took another hour, evening beginning to beckon, before you were coherent.

“What a nice little break that was,” Ambessa said, body overly close to yours, “But dinner is looming and my daughter is unfortunately right, I must host,”

The rest of the party was spectacular in your eyes. Kino found you, half sobered up, and dragged you into beer pong with his friends. It was clear this was less approved by the hidden nature of the location, wrapped in the hedge mazes. That seemed a disaster, drunk kids in their twenties stuck in a maze, but it was so fun you hardly cared. Mel was looser too, her friend Jayce and Viktor had popped by, opening her up like a hesitant flower.

“I hope Mum wasn’t awful,” Mel muttered as she cuddled into your side on a bench in the maze, “You seemed quite chummy,”

“I-I know she isn’t always good to you, Mel,” You muttered, lust and infatuation receding slightly as you gazed at your friend, “I’m sorry if I upset you by hanging out with her,”

Mel paused, flicking a leaf off her skirt as she snuggled deeper into you, “I’m quite glad actually, it’s made her more tolerable, and despite her faults, she can be fun”

Your eyebrows rose, surprised at the admission. Their relationship was strained, but seemed in a drunken haze that was easier to process.

Dinner, the actual sit down portion in the huge marquee, was exquisite. You were on the head table, nestled between Mel and Kino as everyone laughed. The amount of odd, worship dances that happened around Ambessa was unnerving, but her still relaxed shoulders made you snort.

As the party continued and the sky was painted a deep red, Mel tugged you into an aggressive dance than had you toppling and rolling down the large hill, grass stains staining your clothes.

What a great summer. Even if you did want to fuck her mum. Shut Up.

The next morning you were less elated. You had no memory of getting into bed, though you were half in your covers with water on your bedside table. Whispers echoed, too far to reach, a tender kiss to your temple.

The culprit was rather obvious once you stumbled into your bathroom with a yawn. Sharp, clear red lips rested against your skin as they had the joint, making your heart flutter. Hesitant fingers grazed it, matte colour coming off on your fingers as an echo refined in your memory.

“Sweet dreams, Pretty girl,”

You scrubbed it away reluctantly, stomach swimming.

The entire grounds were pristine, cleaners having come in as people left in droves in the early morning. It was now late afternoon, the sun well past its warmth peak for the day as you forced down a salad and some bread. Health, greenery, water. These demands your body cried bitterly, who knew weed and wine was bad for you?

Mel and Kino were in a similar way, becoming one with the sofa as friends played bleakly on a screen that blew out the quality in a ridiculous way. You curled under Mel’s arm, yawning.

“She lives,” Kino mutters, flicking your ear, “You did a backflip off the pong table, or at least tried to,”

Mel started to laugh, nodding at your baffled expression, “Mum caught you and send us all to bed like naughty teenagers,”

“Really?”

“No,” Kino scoffed, “She called you a half brained twat and took you to bed,”

“Fantastic,” You groaned, there went your chances, not that they’d ever really existed, “Where is she? I need to apologise,”

“Away, work trip for four days,” Mel nibbled against a pretzel, the salt soothing, “She said no parties whilst she’s gone, hypocrite,”

There was a party and your behaviour was infinitely worse, almost ridiculously so.

Mel and Kino’s friends were eclectic, a mixture of posh and poor that mingled like oil and water yet it seemed to work. A blue and pink haired couple tried to eat each other’s faces as Kino did obnoxious tricks into the pool. Vile, candy flavoured vodka mixed with champagne blurred everyone’s vision as you suddenly felt like a reckless teenager. You’d never had this phase and now you were living it in a random manor house in the Surrey outskirts.

Still, as the hours ticked by you missed her murmurs to Mina, your morning tea being prepared and her knowing, conspiring glances across at you. You missed the burn of your skin as she entered a room, her spiced and strong smell. You missed her.

When Ambessa returned, she did not seem to suspect anything, weathered from business and silent throughout dinner. You tried to prompt some amusement, though all she gave you was an arched brow or eye roll. Though she joined in on movie night, she curled up alone on a chair with Mina, reading through documents as she went.

Hours later, wrapped in Egyptian cotton, you felt restless. There was nothing to do but shake the energy out. Ambessa lingered in your thoughts. Perhaps she was angrier about your acrobatics attempts that you’d prepared for, or had grown bored of your overly sarcastic, childish antics. You yearned for her, crush firmly cemented like a rough pebble in your stomach, slamming down as a reminder with each movement you took.

Your multifaceted hunger led you to the pretty kitchen, the whole house still as you tiptoed in.

Or so you’d thought.

Ambessa stood, swaying slightly with a glass of wine in her hand. She looked different like this, undone from nonsense as she fell away to reveal the sharp mind beneath.

“Just going to stand there, little one?”

You gulped, “I’m sorry to bother you,”

“Now, when did I say that?”

“You didn’t,” You conceded with a nervous grin, “I just didn’t realise anyone was awake,”

Her gaze fixed on you fully then, golden swirls captivating, “What did you need?”

“Food,” You blurt, “Was just going to grab some crisps or something,”

She moved into motion at once, flickering on the hob light, “I’ll make you something,”

You shook your head, stumbling platitudes about her kindness and your ability to sort something.

“For god sake, girl,” She huffed, tone amused, “Let me do as I please in my own home,”

That shut you up, her hips moving side to side as she assembled various things. The lull you had created did not last for long, she seemed far more talkative than hours earlier.

“There is one thing I have yet to tell my children,” A spoon smashed against porcelain, “I had the house fitted with cameras just before you all came home,”

Cameras, that was a safe investment. You were honestly surprised she didn’t have them befor- The fucking party.

Another nervous laugh leaked out, “I-I see,”

“I’m not cross with you, Dear,” A glug of oil, a crunch of pepper, “Or them, really. I am not an idiot, though it did reaffirm one thing,”

“What’s that?” Your heart was hammering into your lungs, making your voice oddly airy.

“You haven’t got any common sense,” She snorted, sliding a glass of wine your way, “Backflipping off of my pingpong table and then swimming paralytic two days later,”

You blushed, taking a small sip, as you nodded, “My mother used to say my head wasn’t on right,”

Ambessa nodded, eyes taking on a dark glint as she turned back to the bowl of marinade, “Then do allow me to screw it back on for you,”

It felt weirdly erotic coming from her, your stomach tensing, your blood boiling. The pan was put away again. What the fuck was she making you?

She appeared in front of you, “Here, eat your food before it goes sour,”

There was nothing in her hands, you didn’t understand.

Her once bare lips now glistened slightly with spices, smirked fixed on her face, “Come along, wouldn’t want to upset your hostess when she’s gone to so much effort,”

Warm, firm lips met yours as you felt every sense turn into a white, blank nothingness. She’d offered herself as a meal and you ate like a woman starved. Each lick was salty and hot, her taste mingling with the chili oil until it was only her, blissfully her. Her hands were rough and assured, tugging open your shirt till all the buttons popped off. You needed her, all your worries melting against her tongue as she groped against your chest.

“You just need some instruction,” Her ragged voice purred, “Someone to obey,”

You felt yourself gush, eyes fluttering as you nodded pathetically against her.

Ambessa’s tongue against your nipple had you mewling, body twitching as she shushed you. You didn’t want to be loud, lest she stop, but gods was it hard when she twirled your nipple over calloused fingers. She had you shivering, trembling and gasping within minutes, eyes glazed as your wildest sex fantasies were smashed down in rating by the real fucking deal.

Her words were ambrosia, drenching you in joy as she called you some of the most disgusting things you’d heard perhaps ever.

Being fucked against a kitchen island by your friend’s mum hadn’t been in your summer bucket list and yet here you were. Her fingers were wicked, ruining you as she suffocated your moans with her free palm. You had already leaked onto yourself and the floor, but it wasn’t enough for her.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” She muttered, “You can’t resist it, can you? Slave to your own cunt,”

Your reply made no sense, and she laughed against your neck, nibbling and lapping at the bead of sweat there. Your thoughts meant nothing, she was right, you were truly a slave to your physical self. By the time she had you squirting against her palm, you would have mindlessly walked over hot coals for her, cumming all the while.

Her cunt, perfect and warm, crushed your face as she managed to sit atop you on the island. It was the sort of core memory you didn’t expect to make, your practiced tongue working in overdrive to please the goddess above you.

Her whines and grunts were delicious, as was her dripping wetness, as she tugged your hair with a selfish, possessive vice grip. Her orgasm ripped through her, her back arching as you managed to twist her nipples in return for her earlier fondling, her eyes rolling.

Slipping off of you with a grin, she tossed you a damp cloth and wiped herself down.

“Sweet girl,” She slurred in your ear, placing a kiss there, “Knew you’d been a fun toy,”

It would have made your cunt flutter, it would have forced you into a passionate and sweaty round two as you lose your mind to pleasure again, if it weren’t for the fact that you actually sort of really, very seriously liked it.

But you? You were just a long line of sweet little fucks and you’d betrayed her daughter to join the notch on her bedpost.

Fucked. Doomed. Shattered.

#ambessa x reader #reader insert #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa smut #arcane

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tiny-pretty-sana · 1 year ago

Text

gf sana | headcanons

warning: nsfw content (+18), men and minors dni

sfw

sana is a ray of sunshine, the type of person that lights up a room as soon as she gets in

she’s welcoming, warm, and full of energy like having a coffee in a winter morning

she’s a dangerous combination of cute and sexy, she’s aware and she takes advantage of that. she knows exactly what to say and how to act to get her way

sana the type of girl that gets princess treatment without having to ask for it

you get her flowers, open the door for her, give her your jacket, carry her bag and you will do everything it takes to get the plushie she wants at the fair

she is aware of everything you do for her, she appreciates it and gives you all that love back

she is very empathetic. it helps to solve conflicts most of the time, but sometimes it can really affect her to see you upset and she cries with you the same way she celebrates your achievements as if they are her own

she’s an it girl, she’s up to date with the latest fashion trends, likes designer clothes and has an amazing fashion sense. since she's your girlfriend you've started to dress better

she takes you shopping and chooses your outfits on special occasions but her favorite thing is to wear subtle matching outfits with you

her love language is physical touch, so expect a huge amount of skinship

she clings to you, kisses you, hugs you, holds your hand, caresses you, plays with your hair, strokes you… she always has her hands all over you

she doesn’t mind pda to the point it can be too much and you sometimes have to stop her because things can get too cheesy or heated

she showers you with love and she wants everyone to know how much she loves you and how special you are

she posts ig stories of you with cute emojis or texts, photo dumps of your dates and she will randomly bring you up in conversation when you aren’t there

she will ask you to take a lot photos of her when you go on dates

her gifts are always expensive, luxurious, useful and she never misses

sana has a flirtatious personality, it’s something that just comes natural to her. she’s playful, she enjoys teasing you and likes seeing you get nervous but if you respond with the same energy you will have her blushing and giggling

she likes the attention and sometimes she might be flirty with her friends or strangers but you don’t really mind, you know she just likes attention and having a bit of fun

however don’t you dare to flirt with anyone that isn't her because she’s possessive and the jealous type of girlfriend. she’s been clear about that since the beginning and you actually love seeing this side of her

you can easily tell when she's jealous/mad because she looks like she’s about to slit the throat of anyone that gets too close or too touchy with you for her liking with her perfectly done nails

when she's jealous not even her empathy can save you. she won’t say anything, she will give you a cold shoulder until you apologize or convince her that she’s the only one for you

she always sends you mirror photos when she’s in the changing room, when she likes her outfit or when she tries a new make up even if you’re in the same room

when you aren't together she's the type of girlfriend that sends you a bunch of texts with a bunch of emojis and a bunch of exclamation marks

"good morning baby!💟" "have a great dayyy!!!🩷" "have you eaten yet?" "💗💗💗💗💗" "drink water!!! 😡💗" "i miss youuu!!! > < 💗" "good night babyyyy!!! 💖"

nsfw

as someone that expresses her love mostly through physical touch being intimate isn't essential or the center of your relationship, but it's important to her

she likes to make the best of these moments whether they are planned, spontaneous, rushed, soft and slow or fast and rough she will make you feel special, loved, desired, wanted and even worshiped

sana is a passionate, skilled and generous lover

that dangerous mix of cuteness and sexiness is also present in the room she might blush, giggle and cover her face and the next second she's whispering the filthiest things that she wants you to do to her in your ear

when you call her "princess" something just clicks in her brain

she is pretty much a switch in every sense of the word she enjoys bottoming, topping, being in charge and letting you have control

she's possessive, so of course she likes to mark you up and leave hickeys and bites all over your neck and other hidden places. luckily they're subtle enough so they can only be noticed if someone gets a litter too close

sana is usually so touchy that it is hard to tell apart when she is being her usual needy self and when she is just being a brat and is teasing you

casual touches on your thighs, kisses too close to the mouth, glances that undress you, praises that get a little too suggestive…

she's a tease, she likes attention and also praising, so sending you pictures of her cute outfits is not the only thing she does. when you're at work or out with coworkers or friend it's likely that you'll receive pictures of sana in underwear or lingerie if she feels like behaving because if she isn't she will be completely naked doing ungodly poses

she's a kinky girl, open to try new things and isn't shy about it, in fact she has made a few great suggestions that now are part of your routine

her main kinks are praising, degradation, bondage and orgasm control

she loves mix of praising and degradation "you're such a good slut for me, aren't you?" "taking me so well like the little whore you are" "my pretty slut"

she loves when you use the strap on her and she has recently started wearing the strap as well and you can't choose if she is better at giving or receiving

when you're using the strap she loves to do this thing . you lay on your back, she gets between your legs and her hand starts teasing you with strokes on your inner thighs, then she slides a finger between your folds and as soon as she feels your wetness she wraps her lips around the tip of the strap locking her eyes with yours if you're strong enough to look at her

she loves teasing but she hates being teased

if you tease her in an inappropriate place or at an inappropriate time when she can't do anything about it when you finally get home she'll make you sit in a chair in front of the bed and will make you watch while she touches herself

when this happens there are clear rules: 1. you can’t touch her 2. you can’t touch yourself

she is very vocal. she tells you what she wants, where to touch her and how to do it but she also moans without restraining herself and always lets you know how close she is and how good it feels

aftercare is just a long intimate session of cuddles and kisses

#twice headcanons #twice imagines #twice smut #twice sana #minatozaki sana #sana hcs #sana x reader #gg imagines #gg head canons

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