wolfessa

[wolfessa]

Ambessa save me....save me Ambessa...

[wolfessa]

Hi! Im usually too embarrassed to send requests but- maybe Ambessa with assistant reader? Whose so sweet and awkward and tries her best to help and follow ambessa around- (if it's not too much reader is from the undercity and worked hard to try and be were she is now)

HER LITTLE ASSISTANT

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You never fully grasped at the fact you had been chosen as Ambessa’s personal assistant, a simple girl who had climbed high from the Undercity. But now that you had the chance, you weren’t gonna give it up, no matter how nervous you may be.

The Medarda estate in Noxus was every bit as imposing as its mistress. A sprawling fortress of crimson stone and black iron, it loomed over the city like a sentinel, unyielding and proud. It was fitting, then, that the woman who ruled within it was just as formidable.

You were not.

Trailing behind Ambessa Medarda as her assistant, you often felt like a tiny sparrow struggling to keep pace with a hawk. She strode through the halls with her characteristic confidence, her long strides and the sharp clink of her armor an unrelenting tempo you scrambled to match.

Your arms were laden with reports, a satchel bouncing awkwardly against your hip. You’d learned early on that Noxian efficiency left no room for mistakes, and as someone who’d clawed their way out of Zaun’s undercity, failure wasn’t an option.

“Keep up, little one,” Ambessa called over her shoulder, her tone teasing yet commanding.

“Yes, ma’am,” you chirped, nearly tripping as you hurried to close the gap.

She stopped abruptly, turning to watch as you skidded to a halt in front of her. Her sharp eyes swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and flushed cheeks.

“Well, I did not mean keep up by falling,” she chuckled, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Just breathe.”

“I—yes, of course,” you stammered, clutching the reports tighter. “Sorry, Lady Medarda.”

Her brow arched. “Ambessa. You’ve been working for me long enough to drop the formalities.”

“Right. Ambessa,” you repeated, though the name felt far too intimate on your tongue.

She seemed satisfied and gestured for you to follow. “Good. Now, let’s see if you’ve organized these reports properly.”

Ambessa’s days were relentless, filled with strategy meetings, inspections, and commanding the loyalty of those around her. You followed her through it all, your hands busy with ledgers and maps, your mind spinning as you tried to keep up with her sharp wit.

Despite your nerves, you’d started to notice small things about her. The way she rolled her shoulders after a long meeting. The faint smile that tugged at her lips when something amused her. The occasional soft glance she directed your way when she thought you weren’t looking.

She wasn’t cruel, not to you. Stern, yes. Intimidating? Always. But there was a softness to her that you suspected few ever saw. It was in the way she ensured you ate during long days, how she subtly slowed her pace when she noticed you struggling to keep up.

And sometimes, her touch lingered just a moment too long.

Like now.

The two of you stood in her private study, the soft glow of the hearth casting flickering shadows across the room. You were handing her a report when her fingers brushed yours. It was the barest of touches, but it sent a jolt through you.

“You’re trembling,” she remarked, her voice low and teasing.

“S-sorry,” you stuttered, quickly pulling your hand back.

She chuckled, setting the report aside. “Relax, little one. You’ve done well today.”

Her praise was rare and precious, and you couldn’t stop the warmth that spread through your chest. “Thank you, Ambessa. I just want to make sure I don’t disappoint you.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, the weight of her armor seemed to lift. “You could never disappoint me.”

Like the others, the following days brought more of the same: relentless work, fleeting touches, and a growing tension that neither of you addressed.

Ambessa was always close, closer than necessary, you thought. When reviewing maps, she would stand behind you, her breath warm against your ear as she pointed out key locations. Her hand would sometimes rest on your shoulder, firm and reassuring.

It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was enough to make your heart race and your thoughts spiral. Did she even realize what she was doing to you?

One evening, as you prepared tea in the estate’s kitchen, Ambessa entered unexpectedly. You jumped, nearly dropping the kettle.

“Ambessa! I didn’t hear you,” you said, clutching the counter for support.

“I noticed,” she said with a smirk. “What are you doing down here?”

“I—well, I thought you might like some tea. You’ve been working so hard, and I just…” You trailed off, your cheeks burning.

Her expression softened, and she stepped closer. “That’s thoughtful of you.”

You swallowed hard as she took the kettle from your hands, her fingers brushing yours again. Her touch lingered, warm and deliberate.

“You’re too kind, little one,” she said softly, her gaze locking with yours.

Your heart thundered in your chest. “I just want to help.”

She smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your knees weak. “You do more than help. You keep me grounded.

The tipping point came on a quiet night, weeks later. The day had been exhausting, and you were both in her study, the fire crackling softly as you worked through a final stack of documents.

Ambessa set her quill down, leaning back in her chair as she regarded you thoughtfully. “You’ve worked hard today. Come here.”

You hesitated, unsure of what she meant.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” she said, though her tone was more amused than stern.

You approached her cautiously, standing awkwardly in front of her chair. She reached out, her hands settling on your hips as she guided you to sit on the edge of the desk.

“Ambessa?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Shh,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing small circles against your sides.

Her touch was firm yet gentle, grounding you in a way that made your breath hitch. Her gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it, and the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks finally broke.

“I’ve been patient,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “But I can’t ignore this anymore.”

You blinked, your heart pounding. “Ignore what?”

“The way I feel about you,” she admitted, her honesty stealing the air from your lungs.

Your lips parted, but no words came. She cupped your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin as she leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

When her lips met yours, it was soft and tentative, as though she was afraid of overwhelming you. Her kiss was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, her touch careful and reverent.

You melted into her, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as the world fell away.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm against your skin.

“Tell me I’m not wrong,” she murmured, her voice laced with vulnerability.

“You’re not,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

She smiled, her eyes holding a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Good.”

She slowly leaned back in, allowing her lips to ghost against yours once more. “Then let me continue to show my love for you.” She breathed before her lips captured yours again.

A/N: kinda mad I made this so short, but I hope it’s okay!!

[wolfessa]

Going off of the injured Ambessa ask, could you do something where the reader is injured. But their a soldier so it’s really bad and their trying to play it off but Ambessa can tell it’s bad. (Maybe throw in a little hidden injury and “who did this to you?)

if your not up for it I completely understand

-🧚

HIDDEN INJURIES

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: You were one of Ambessa’s Noxian soldiers, and the favorite one of them all. However, when you got injured and struggled to hide it, you thought that might title change.

Request: Anon 🤍

The night air was thick with the scent of Noxus and its empire, the distant hum of a city brimming with life. Meanwhile, you did not feel the same life that the other people shared.

You leaned against the stone wall of the barracks, doing your best to steady yourself, breathe shallow, heart hammering beneath your ribs. Your fingers lingered over the bandage, already stained with the remnants of blood that had dried too quickly. The injury was deeper than you’d let on, an ugly gash that cut across your lower abdomen after a clash with a particularly vicious opponent. You’d tended to it as best as you could, but it wasn’t enough. It never was.

The last few days had been a blur of dull pain and the stubbornness that coursed through your veins, a soldier’s pride that insisted you didn’t need help. You knew what Ambessa expected of you, what she needed you to be: strong, steady, and reliable.

You were her pet, her favored soldier, and above all, you couldn’t let that slip away dimpling because she sees your weakness. Not now. Not ever.

But that was growing harder to do.

With a grimace, you pushed off the wall and staggered back into the fortress, your movements stiff and slow, each step a reminder of how much the injury had begun to rot beneath the surface. You’d tried to hide it, kept it covered up, but something had gone wrong. The infection was spreading now, a subtle ache in your bones, a fever that coursed through your veins, making your body feel like it was being consumed by fire.

You hadn’t been able to hide it from Ambessa for long.

She was waiting for you in her chambers, reclining on a plush chaise, the shadows of candlelight casting an amber glow over her striking features. Her eyes, those fierce golden orbs, flicked up when you entered, and for a brief moment, the sharpness softened.

“Come here,” she beckoned with a subtle wave of her hand, her voice like velvet. She knew something was off, something subtle in the way you moved, the way you tried to stand straighter than you could, the way you winced when your side brushed the doorframe.

You swallowed hard, but obediently stepped toward her.

Ambessa’s eyes narrowed slightly, always keen to the smallest detail. She was no stranger to seeing soldiers in various states of pain. You weren’t the first one she’d taken an interest in, though you were the only one who seemed to matter to her in such a way. Her gaze lingered on you with concern, but her lips curled into a smirk as if to mask the worry creeping in. She raised an eyebrow, studying you, her gaze unwavering.

“Are you sure you’re well?” she asked, the softness of her voice belying the tension that was steadily rising in the room.

You hesitated, your chest tightening at the thought of her disappointment. “I’m fine, truly. It’s just a scratch,” you lied, the words tasting sour on your tongue.

She didn’t believe you for a second. Her eyes softened as she stood up and walked toward you, her footsteps like whispers on the stone floor. As she approached, you could feel her presence like a tangible thing, comforting yet demanding, a force to be reckoned with.

Without warning, her hand came to rest gently on your shoulder. You tensed, a sharp breath catching in your throat. She could feel the heat radiating off of you, could sense the trembling beneath your skin.

“You’ve been hiding something from me,” she murmured, her voice a low, soothing hum. Her thumb stroked lightly over the muscle of your shoulder, sending a shiver through your body. “I could hear it in your voice. Practically feel it radiating off of you.”

You bit the inside of your lip, trying not to show the frustration and guilt that bubbled up. “It’s nothing,” you said, forcing the words to sound as normal as you could. “I’ll recover. No need to—”

“Let me see it,” she interrupted, her voice no longer a request but an order.

Your eyes darted down, and for a moment, you felt a surge of panic. You knew she could be patient, but when she wanted something, she didn’t let it go. Slowly, you reached for the sides of your tunic, fingers fumbling for the fabric that hid the injury.

Ambessa didn’t speak, only stood quietly, watching you with those steady, unwavering eyes as you pulled the fabric up. When you turned slightly to expose the injury on your side, she took in the sight of the angry, red, infected wound with a sharp intake of breath.

“Gods, how long has this been festering?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous now, the tenderness gone. Her fingers ghosted over the edge of the injury, and you flinched, unable to keep the hiss of pain from escaping.

You tried to hide it, tried to play it off as you always did. “It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll be fine.”

Ambessa’s gaze turned hard, and for the first time in days, you saw the faint flicker of worry behind her gaze. Her hand was soft on your skin, but the concern in her eyes was sharp, like a blade waiting to cut through your excuses.

“Don’t lie to me,” she whispered, her fingers now tracing the ugly colored skin around the wound that was farther from the edges, careful but firm. “You should have come to me sooner. You’re not as invincible as you force yourself to be.”

Her words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, you let the facade slip. The pain, the fatigue, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came crashing down. But Ambessa didn’t let you fall. She stepped closer, her presence grounding you, like she always did when you needed her most.

“You’ll need help, this wound is far too infected,” she said, her tone brokering no argument. “Meaning you will rest for some time and take a break from your duties for me, hm?”

You were too tired to argue. Too tired to fight against the kindness you didn’t deserve. Slowly, you nodded, letting her help you remove the rest of your tunic. She gently pressed you back onto the bed, her hands so soft, yet somehow so strong. You felt her steady gaze on you as she began to clean the wound, carefully, expertly, removing the infected tissue with practiced hands.

Her voice, as soft as a lullaby, hummed in your ear. “I don’t want to hear about you being ‘fine’ again. You’re mine now, and when you’re mine, I take care of what’s mine. Understood?”

Her fingers were gentle, the motions slow and deliberate, as if every action was designed to keep you grounded. Despite the pain of her tending to the injury, you felt your body relax into her touch, the feverish burn inside of you easing just a little.

“Yes, I understand,” you whispered, your voice a fragile thing.

“Good.” Her voice was low and approving as she finished cleaning the wound and began bandaging it with care. “Now, rest. I’ll stay with you until you’re better, little one.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion pulling you down, but her presence kept you tethered, warm and solid. For the first time in days, you let yourself fall into that comfort, that fragile space between pain and safety.

As she finished tending to you, her fingers lingering on your skin with a soft caress, you could hear the faintest smile in her voice.

“Let me take care of you now,” Ambessa murmured, her voice a soft promise. “No more pretending. Not here.”

And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that perhaps, just perhaps, you didn’t have to be the soldier anymore. Not in her presence. Not when you were with her.

A/N: Sorry that this is so short, I tried to expand it and it just turned into an absolute mess. So I shortened it down just to realize how much I shortened it. But either way, I hope that you liked it and it was okay (if not, I’ll definitely give it another shot)

[wolfessa]

𝑨𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔 [WLW]

Some little headcanons. How Ambessa likes to treat her women, what she likes about them and more. [x reader]

[fem!reader, switch reader, no specific appearance]

• Positions

-Ambessa loves all the positions where she can be truly dominant, if she has to choose, she'd say anything where she can pin you down to a surface.

-Being it standing or laying down, she will grab your waist and push you down.

-She also loves the sensation of having your legs on her shoulders; sometimes she'll just take your ankles with her hand and pull you towards her so she cansafely secure them on her shoulder. If she finds out you've a soft spot for it, she will look directly in your eyes as she does so.

-She prefers using her fingers on you and loves having you on her lap, but if she's given a strap, she will have you face down.

-But her favorite positions is undoubtedly the mating press.

• Where

-A bed is a classic, and classics deserve respect...but she does love seeing how flustered your skin can get in a warm tub or how desperately you cling to her while struggling to stay on her lap in an armchair.

-For most people choosing a place for these moments is a matter of practicality, but for Ambessa there's an unspoken aesthetic rule. She likes to take her beautiful woman while she's surrounded by something beautiful, maybe something that contrasts with the color of her skin while she's under her gasping her name.

-But she listens, if your knees are particularly hurting that day or if back cramps have been giving you hell, you can be sure she'll take you somewhere with soft pillows to spend your time. Just likes she will always allow you to help yourself with a pillow in certain positions, she wants you to find pleasure and not discomfort.

-But her favorite places are garden lodges. She'll make sure to have a private one for the two of you, personally choosing in based on how much she thinks you'd like it. Nothing better than drinking your sweet nectar and playing with your flower while you are surrounded by pretty flowers.

• Soft or Hard

-Ambessa mostly leans on the harder side, she loves being in control and manhandling you around.

-Hair pulling? Ass spanking? Using her own hands as handcuffs? She likes all of that.

-But she always adds a bit of sweetness to it; she's big on pet names and compliments, whispering in your ear just how good you're doing while your brain is malfunctioning from the intensity of the act.

-As said before, Ambessa genuinely cares about the comfort of her woman, and can be gentler if asked. Especially if you need some soft attention that day, she'll let you guide things and encourage you to do whatever feels better for you, even exploring new things you were too embarrassed to try before.

• Receiving

-Ambessa tends to be dominant even when she's on the receiving end.

-She'll grab your waist and reposition you into the angle she wants you to take her while encouraging you to be rougher with her, reassuring you she's tough enough to take it.

-She will tease you by keeping on calling you soft sweet names while you're absolutely giving your all and being the roughest you can be; she just loves how your eyebrows frown and your hips stutter as you try to go even harder. But it doesn't matter how rough you can be, her attitude will never drop.

-But don't be fooled, Ambessa prefers the perks of topping you. Seeing your back arching as she has her strap deep into you and you're unable to keep your eyes open? that's the best sight for her.

-She secretly adores being sweetly eaten out, though. Your eyes on her as you gently work between her thighs, being so diligent for her. Sometimes she likes to push her thighs together just enough to see your cheeks squished, not hurting you but liking the expression you make when she does so.

[wolfessa]

Still a fox…

[wolfessa]

Hii

(Firstly, English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes) Well, can you do one of Ambessa or Sevika with the blind Reader, but who is already used to it and can do several things on her own, giving her one scare or another? Like, disappearing out of nowhere and coming back with some shopping as if nothing had happened. Even better if she has a guide dog.

BLINDED LOVER

Ambessa x Sevika x f!reader

Synopsis: You had always worried Sevika and Ambessa when you went out alone, besides the company of your guide dog due to the fact you were blind. And when you come back home with a scrap, they were all over you.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Since it could have been Ambesa or Sevika, I chose both (because I’m a simp.)

The late afternoon sun dipped below the skyline of Zaun, casting the world in golden hues laced with the grime of industrial fog. Your guide dog, Juno, trotted by your side, her pace steady, her breathing even. The city’s familiar scents—steel, oil, and the sharp tang of something burning—filled the air.

Your cane tapped lightly along the ground in a measured rhythm. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Paired with Juno’s footsteps, it was a song you’d long since memorized.

The marketplace was its usual mess of noise, voices overlapping as street vendors called out deals, children squealed in the distance, and the faint rumble of distant machinery shook the ground. It was loud, sure, but you’d been navigating this chaos for years. Juno, ever the professional, led you with practiced precision.

“Good girl, Juno,” you murmured, fingers brushing lightly over the harness. Her tail wagged once.

You reached for the small mental checklist you’d built in your head. Bread, fruit, the spicy honey Ambessa likes, coffee for Sevika. You’d already grabbed the honey and bread, and the smell of fresh fruit told you that the next stall was your target.

“‘Scuse me, sweetheart,” a rough voice called as someone brushed by your shoulder, too fast and too close.

You barely had time to react. The edge of something sharp—maybe a metal buckle, a jagged bag strap, or a chipped corner of a crate—scraped against your cheek. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it stung like hell, a bright hot flash of pain that made you suck in a sharp breath.

“Ah, dammit,” you hissed, pressing your fingers against your cheek. It was warm and sticky. Blood. Not much, but enough to be annoying.

The person was gone as fast as they’d come, no apology, no acknowledgment. Juno bumped her head against your leg, her way of checking in. You gave her a quick pat.

“I’m okay, Juno,” you assured her, feeling around in your bag for the tissues you always kept on hand. You found one and pressed it to the scrape. “Just a bump. No big deal.”

It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. Zaun was crowded, chaotic, and full of sharp edges, both literal and metaphorical. You weren’t made of glass. People bumped into each other here—it wasn’t personal.

But you knew it would be personal to them.

Sevika was pacing again.

Her heavy boots thudded against the floor, her metal arm flexing at her side. She glanced at the clock, eyes narrowing at the numbers like they’d wronged her.

“She’s late,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low but tense. “Fifteen minutes past her ‘forty minutes tops,’ Ambessa.”

“Patience, darling,” Ambessa replied from the kitchen. The clink of glass echoed as she set her wine down on the counter. “She’s not fragile. You know that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sevika muttered, dragging a hand down her face. “Still doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Ambessa hummed knowingly. She stepped forward, her broad frame moving with the kind of grace that made every motion look like a deliberate strategy. She approached Sevika, fingers trailing lightly down her metal arm, cool against the smooth steel.

“You worry because you love her,” Ambessa said softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Sevika’s temple. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Sevika’s scowl softened, just a little. “Yeah, well, loving her makes me want to keep her wrapped in steel.”

“Which she’d chew through the second you tried,” Ambessa quipped, eyes crinkling with affection.

Their moment of calm was interrupted by the soft jingle of Juno’s collar and the familiar, rhythmic click-thud of your cane tapping its way through the hall.

“Door,” Sevika muttered, already moving.

Her sharp eyes watched as the handle turned, the door opening to reveal you. Juno stepped in first, her tail wagging happily, tongue lolling as she looked up at Sevika like she’d just returned from a grand adventure.

“Hey,” you called, breathless but cheerful. “Sorry I’m a little late. The market was wild today.”

You closed the door behind you, hands busy feeling for the lock to twist it into place. It took you only a second longer than usual, your muscle memory guiding you. Your bag hung from one arm, a reusable tote filled with clinking jars and fresh bread.

Sevika’s eyes were on you instantly, sharp as a blade. She stepped forward, already halfway through scolding you for being late when she froze.

Her gaze locked onto the smear of dried blood along your cheek.

“The hell is that?” Sevika’s voice was low, deadly quiet.

You blinked, turning toward her. “Huh?” Your hand lifted automatically to your cheek, fingers brushing over the half-dried scrape. It stung, but it wasn’t bad.

“Oh, this? Some guy bumped into me,” you said casually, tilting your head toward the sound of her footsteps. “Not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Sevika was suddenly in front of you, all heat and intensity. Her metal fingers gripped your chin, tilting your face up gently but firmly. “That’s blood, babe.”

“I know,” you said with a sigh, letting her tilt your head as her eyes scanned you like you were a broken machine she needed to repair. “It’s barely a scratch, Sev. Just some guy with a bag. Happens all the time.”

“Not supposed to happen to you,” she muttered, her eyes hard as stone, jaw tight. Her human hand ran over your face, as if checking for hidden injuries you might not have noticed. Her thumb brushed over the scrape, so, so gently, and you felt her exhale slowly.

Ambessa’s presence was sudden but not surprising. She moved behind you, one hand resting on your shoulder. Her touch was a slow, grounding weight, firm but never overbearing. Her fingers brushed over your hair as she stepped closer, taking in the sight of the dried blood.

“Did he touch you?” Ambessa’s voice was deceptively calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that made generals surrender without a fight.

“Not really,” you said quickly, turning your head to face her. “He brushed past me too fast, and something sharp caught my cheek. It’s fine.”

“Is it?” Sevika growled.

“Yes, it is,” you insisted, pulling back slightly, though her hands lingered on you. “Seriously, it’s not like I got jumped. It’s Zaun. People bump into people.”

“People,” Sevika muttered, eyes narrowed, “shouldn’t bump into you. Especially since you are blind. Shit, you have everything to show them that too.”

“Sevika,” you sighed, exhaustion seeping into your voice. “I’m not a porcelain doll. I got bumped, not broken.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Sevika grumbled, arms folding over her chest, her gaze still locked on your cheek like it had personally insulted her.

Ambessa leaned down, her lips brushing your temple, her voice warm but firm. “It matters because you’re ours.”

Your chest ached at that, not from pain, but from love so fierce it felt like armor.

“Come on,” Sevika muttered, taking your hand and pulling you toward the couch. “Let me clean it up.”

You didn’t argue, since you knew there was no winning when both of them had decided you needed coddling.

Later that night, the three of you lay curled together on the couch, Juno snoring softly at your feet. Sevika sat with her back to the armrest, one leg draped over yours, her human hand tracing lazy circles on your knee.

You rested against Ambessa’s chest, her arms folded around you, her warmth seeping into every inch of you. Her hand brushed through your hair in slow, soothing strokes.

“You two are ridiculous,” you murmured, but you were smiling.

“Love is ridiculous,” Ambessa replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Yeah,” Sevika muttered, leaning down to kiss the side of your face just below the freshly bandaged scrape. Her lips lingered there, soft and careful. “And we love you.”

“Too much,” you said, but your eyes were already closing.

“Not possible,” Ambessa whispered, fingers threading through your hair.

You didn’t argue. You didn’t need to.

You were home, and even if you couldn’t see it’s beauty, you could feel it with them.

[wolfessa]

Sevika is her clumsy secretary and they secretly fuck nasty in her office (everyone knows)

[wolfessa]

IV. "𝑷𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑻."

You wish that woman wasn't so fucking scary. And you desperately wish that the trembling you present near her was only fear and nothing more. Ambessa Medarda never ceases to fuck with your emotions. ノ Exhibitionism, Lesbian Sex, Teasing, Softer!Ambessa, Slight Masturbation, & Reader Lore Drops — Some of Her Issues Come to Light. ᧔ potn masterlist ᧓ 6.1k+ wc.

(Note: I hope you guys know that I love alllll of you sometimes scary weirdos in my screen. I mean that lovingly!! If you ever want to interact my DMs and inbox are open!! Anywho- requests for Arcane are welcome!)

"Take it. Come now, don't make my arm tire."

Ambessa's arm is outstretched, hand presenting that familar folded piece of paper. She's giving you back your painting, yet she won't look at you. Ambessa Medarda, the fearless warlord, can't look you in your face.

Before you had gotten to this moment, you were unbearably horrified by her presence. She had been relatively nice, lenient even for the first week of your stay. And while there was subtle force to paint, she gave you room to breathe, even time off for several days. It was jarring to go from someone so nice to that rough slap that landed on your cheek. Imprinted in your brain is the pain, the stinging...the way she used enough back to knock you back a couple of steps. Something about that singular action altered your brain chemistry, it finally convinced you realize this woman is a Noxian warlord, not some woman who would easily forgive and forget, who would pull punches and elect to use words than fists.

While she could use words, Ambessa wasn't diplomatic, she was indelicate and unafraid of resorting to violence. She wasn't a fox, but a wolf—regardless of whether she could be persuasive with words or not. Fundamentally, she was a beast that would bare her teeth and lunge first rather than give a bluff charge.

You avoided her like a disease, horrified at feeling such a sudden, hard strike once more. Her anger was something you hadn't fully realized until then, and it is by far one of the things at the top of your "do not encounter" list.

Though, quite frankly, it seems as of she was avoiding you.

A week had passed since then, and not once has she summoned you, or even delivered a message through a servant. You would assume the woman dropped off the damn grid if not for the calmness of her soldiers. It's currently, your 3rd week at the household and the only thing you've been forbidden from doing walking to the East side of the estate, everything else was available to you. And honestly, you felt genuine peace without the threat of Ambessa constantly looming over you.

However, you also felt genuine surprise when not a single request for your audience has been made. Perhaps she was too occupied with her conquests, sexual or war wise. Or perhaps she was giving you a much needed rest? Her motivations, even from the beginning, have never truly been clear to you.

You wondered if she was still mad. Is that way she's been keeping a distance? Nothing is clear, its like you've put on over prescribed glasses when you became entrapped in Ambessa's grasp, and everything is unbearably blurry. Like a newborn fawn, you've been stumbling your way through this situation, regretting refusing, regretting feeling in such ways to her, and most importantly, regretting ever painting the images in the first place. That child-like curiosity you bore had become your burden. And yet, it was inevitable. Your environment, your conception and birth, nothing would've allowed for a different outcome.

For days, tears flowing from your eyes and down your cheeks to drip from your chin. Kiza, that lovely woman, regardless of what emotion overcame you, she stood by you, caring for you in the gentlest way possible, nursing your swollen cheek.

Kiza had become a prominent figure, replacing both Amara's presence and Ambessa's.

It was strange, how Amara vanished, never to be spoken or whispered about by any other staff as if her mere name was a forbidden word. Nevertheless, Kiza was a more that adequate substitute. While you longed for what could've been with Amara—you thought you were relatively getting along, Kiza became a wooden foundation to which your moldable clay could rest upon. She never asked, not pried, she simply held an ice pack to your cheek and let you lean against her. She only helped you get out of the bath and picked out your clothes. She only brought breakfast and dinner to your bedroom. She only swayed with you, listening to those silent tears, or the loud ones, providing a comforting air.

To be quite honest, you imagined that she would be what a mother was like.

As much as they tried to be comforting and caring, the women at the brothel were far too used to concealing their own emotions. Trying to raise an emotional intelligent child was like trying to recieve a large sum without slipping an inch of skin. The warmth that you lacked seemed to be given in those quite, late night moments. You'd be rocked along with her body, pressed against her side, and soon your vision would fade to back with the comforting background noise of her hums. You'd wake up, tucked snuggly underneath the covers with the woman entering the room with breakfast. It was a nice routine, one devoid of stress-ish.

As much as Ambessa's lack of contact was nice, it was scary to endure. You hoped desperately that she wouldn't do anything terrible the day she finally decided to order you back. Thing is, as time passes, she hasn't and seemingly never will call you to her—if thats the case, could you really leave? It wasn't until you asked Kiza, and fully processed her repeated words from that day, did you finally understand that semblance of instruction from Ambessa.

"Lady Medarda said that when you are ready, you may speak with her, whenever you wish. She's not mad, just waiting for you," Kiza reiterates in soft tone, folding your clothes and setting them aside.

She was waiting for you, to move first.

You swallow, "Oh."

Kiza watches you, looking as if she's studying your reaction, reading whatever is behind those eyes of yours. After a moment, she lightly pats your leg. "Come on, it's time for lunch. Let's eat elsewhere, you need a change of environment." A pout forms on your lips, to which she chuckles.

"Is walking through this big mansion not enough of an environment change?"

"There's a lot you haven't seen, My lady. But no, you've been stuck walking through these stuffy hallways. Let's go fetch food and eat outside today, yes?" My lady. You questioned why she would ever call you that from the first time she did. Yes, you were a guest, but you were born and raised as a peasant, nothing should warrant the title unless she's been told to do so. You hum, thinking over her somewhat forceful advice and sigh. "Alright..." Kiza smiles, patting your leg and offering a hand to help you from the bed as if you couldn't do it yourself.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm supposed to pamper you," she jokes, watching as you slip on the slippers resting on the side of your bed. You pause, tilting your head, wondering about the "pamper you" order she had supposedly been given, but you don't dwell on it too long. The two of you walk down a hallway, a new one. Kiza had led you here to help you discover yet another part of this very very large Medarda estate, and this was only one half of it. As you walked, you noticed that a line of paintings had been hung up along them. You tilt your head, peering up at them. Oh, it was the Medardas. "She...has a husband?"

Kiza blinks, "Oh, yes. It was a political thing, rather than love. So, Lady Medarda doesn't...er—shy away from her lover status."

Well she has a type, you think, looking at the build of her husband. You nod slowly, "Those two?" You point to one of the paintings, Ambessa is sitting a chair reminiscent of a throne, a young boy is on one side of her, while on the other stands her husband and a young girl.

"Kino, her first born, on the right. On the left...Mel. Her daughter."

You purse your lips, thinking to yourself about the paintings. About the dynamics displayed in them. Regardless, of what the painting aims to achieve, as an artist, the fine details are important—and hardly noticeable, but you're trained eyes can tell. The implications of the colors, where each head looks, who's standing and who's sitting... "Would it be, inappropriate of me to ask where they are? I haven't seen any of them in my couple of weeks here."

"Oh." Oh? Kiza swallows, "Well—Kino is in the East side of the estate. You are forbidden from venturing there. As for her daughter...she is currently stationed in Piltover."

"Why, may I ask?"

"I am unable to provide an answer for that."

Ah.

"Oh, okay."

Uncomfortable silence rests between the two of you, at least you think so. You chew on your lip and walk side by side with Kiza, eyes observing the paintings on the wall instead of anything else. Yet, when you finally conjure the bravery to speak again, you look from the wall to be faced with an anxiety-inducing image—at least for you.

Ambessa, along with Rictus to her side, turns around the counter. The slight flicker of her eyes tells you she knows you're standing right there, but other than that split moment, she doesn't spare you a glance.

Kiza simply bows her head in respect when the warlord passes, but you? Something felt so unresistable about her, it made you wish someone would punt you against a wall. Your hand twitches, head lowered aswell, but there is longing in your eyes as you look through your lashes, longing she cannot see because she refuses to look. You bite your lip, heart thumping to a rhythm of a multitude of emotions. But one that stood out was need. Technically speaking, you had never actually touched her, fully at least. Aside from the accidental, running into the metal breastplate on her chest when you tried to escape those weeks ago, and the slap...you hadn't touched her.

Yet, you'd seen her. Seen her in all her glory, naked from head to toe, body exposed to both yourself and whatever conquest she had chosen that day.

Intimacy—tension, always hung in the air, despite the two of you never really touching.

It was unbearable, jarring even—especially since that still existed now. No, the emotion it carried, the type of tension, had not changed despite her prior action of violence towards you. It was the same, seemingly pining tension, that hung between the two of you.

And you hate it.

You hate yourself, and you hate her for ever putting you into this situation. Yet, your hand twitched and reached out towards her, strangely longing to feel the skin you've never been given the chance to touch. Yet, as her eyes are directed straight forward, a simultaneously dismissive and angry look on her face, you quickly retract your hand. You turn, watching her walk off.

You still shake like a leaf near her. Rictus glances from his general to you, watching as your eyes nervously dart away, before he glances back at Ambessa. He watches her frown deepen, the tension growing on her face as her lips press firmly together.

Purposefully, her top teeth clink against the golden lip cuff on her bottom lip. A habit Rictus had noticed long ago when he first started serving as Ambessa's personal gaurd. Everything was so unbearably readable to the warrior, something that shouldn't be so considering her own husband can't read her the same, but nevertheless, that's the situation. And while he always reads, he never comments. That's not his place. Plus, its not as if she doesn't note it in her head herself.

Watching her back get farther and farther down the hallway, you wished your mind would just pick. You wished it would settle on an opinion of her, yet it always fluctuates for some reason. Between fear and—

Perhaps the best choice, for now, is to avoid her in a similar fashion as she does to you. Really, you should just suck it up and talk to her, but that seems so...daunting at the moment. Your feet carry you to the kitchen, Kiza keeping a close eye on your face—specifically your eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, and your soul was so easily understood by her...or even anyone around the estate. You were far too open with your body language, specifically your face. But, that's something Kiza found endearing. Especially, that dejected look of yours.

Not that she found pleasure in your misery! She'd always rush to ease your pain as much as she could. But, those sweet little eyes when you're sad. That look akin to an abandoned puppy, it was cute—and irresistible to respond to. That face of yours, it always had her rushing to you as fast as possible to offer a solution. A bath, a hug, no matter, she would undoubtedly provide it.

As a servant, she'd have to. But nevertheless, she wanted to. She eagerly tended to you—hiding it well of course—always tending to you with care. The relationship couldn't exactly be accurately put into words, from either side. But there's always a sense of respect and gratitude between the two of you. That's enough.

There was a sense of contentment as the days filled with calmness. Both you and Ambessa had been avoiding each other like the other would somehow bestow a curse.

The month mark of your stay had hit. It had been weeks since the "altercation" and only a few days from when you last saw her in the hallway, but finally, you felt somewhat brave enough. Of course, Kiza had encouraged you, repeating the same words she always had. She pat your back, ensuring that you'd be fine, but that there was no shame in feeling such a way. Afterall, a fearful warlord had slapped you.

Internally, you thought that others would call this stupid. Weeks of fear from some simple slap? Though, it wasn't just the slap. Without a doubt, overwhelming fear struck you when that large hand lifted in the air and swung downwards. The impact hurt, it brought involuntary tears and gave you a taste of her horrifying strength. But, it was the grasp of your face, the look of anger—offense, curiosity, and annoyance all curled in one look, and finally, how it felt as if she threw you away. Physically, she did. Her hand threw your face from your face and pushed you away, and then her distance, the indifference she held whenever she accidently saw you around.

No matter how much the job itself made your heart throb in agony, no matter how feeling as if you've been silently coereced to paint what you hate felt, no matter how the violent feeling of confusion felt—the strange sense of complete abandonment by her did not feel good.

Somehow, the encouragement, and those feelings had landed you here—in her bedroom while she stands half-naked.

"Take it. Come now, don't make my arm tire." You felt your chest fill in your chest as Ambessa held your painting in her hand, holding it up to you while she couldn't fucking look you in the face. You swallow, silently taking the folded painting back. You qucikly open it, sighing with relief as it hasn't been harmed or altered in any way.

"Um...why, may I ask, My lady? I thought you weren't going to give this to me until I paint?"

"Can a woman not have a change of heart?" She hums, fixing the loose robes around her body, tying the front closed. "Take it and be grateful."

There's that crushing dismissiveness. And she's still not looking at you. It was strange, considering it felt as if her eyes have been on you since the first time you entered the estate. Not to mention, you've notced she loves to keep eye contact....nevertheless—you hold the paper close to your chest, swallowing as you try and form the correct words.

"Why are you still here?" Ambessa starts leisurely walking over to her closet on the other side of the room.

"I—err, I wanted to ask, if its not too rude, what happened to Amara? She was the primary servant taking care of me, and then it suddenly switched to Kiza...not that Im complaining! I love Kiza, I was just wondering..." Ambessa tilts her head, turning around to face you—to look at you for the first time in a long time.

"You should feel less concern for someone who doesn't like you."

"...huh?"

Ambessa sighs, taking slow steps towards you. "You really are quite niave, little one." You hesitate, desperately wanting to take a step back, but you hold in your spot. However, nothing will stop you from flinching when she raises her hand. Ambessa pauses, halting her movement. She only wished to raise your chin, to see those sparkling, wobbly eyes looking back at her. Though, when you flinched as if you feared she'd batter you, she stopped, narrowing her eyes, but her hand is back near her hip.

"What...what do you mean?"

Ambessa hums, "I must admit, it took me far too long to realize. It took me until I slapped you." You grimace at her casual way of speaking about an action that became a (temporary) scar on your perception of her. "Im not followi—"

"Everytime that girl looked at you, she was annoyed in some sort of fashion. There were no problems in the past; I truly didn't think about her until that moment, but her presence had become one I felt an intense amount of interest and recollection." Ambessa hums, walking over to the nightstand next to her bed, pouring herself a glass of wine a servant had brought in earlier. She swirls the wine in the cup, smiling at the blood red color before taking a sip.

"I confronted her. Brave child—she admitted her interference with your painting. Well, perhaps it took some...convincing, but I digress." Huh. Amara, she hated you? She sabotaged you? Like always, a swirl of emotion when near this woman. A sense of betrayal settles in your chest, she sat back while you were punished and yelled at, knowing that she was the culprit. You had only known her a few days, but that was enough for you to build an attachment, ant that was enough to make your heart thump in unpleasant ways. Your anger and sorrow was stoked just as they died down. Ridiculous.

Ambessa hums against the glass, focusing her eyes on your reactions. "Jealousy, what a cruel motivator—one that always ends in sacrifice." What? Jealousy? What could Amara possibly be jealous for? The woman was beautiful, in your own opinion, more so than yourself. What form of jealousy would lead her like that?

"Nevertheless, she's been punished, you have your painting, you should be satisfied." She's right, you should be. But you feel curiosity, longing to know what was going to Amara's mind, and why. What fucking punishment did she get??? Though, it didn't feel right to ask the details in this moment. There was silence that rests between the two of you. You couldn't quite tell if it was awkward or not, considering your thoughts were swimming in a whirlpool. However, you could undoubtedly feel Ambessa's eyes on you. Though, instead of a few minutes prior, she doesn't seem to eager to kick you out.

"It is not required of you..." she startes, breaking the ice. "However, I would like it, if you came to my room tonight." Is that her way of asking instead of telling? Is she giving you an option of painting for her? "Will you finally give me a chance to witness your talents, hm?"

You hesitate, not quite knowing what to say—not quite knowing what you want. Your lips open, meaning to speak, but not sound comes out. "You can decide later, I need not hear you stutter out a forced response," she waves her hand, attempting to dismiss you, "Go on. Its breakfast time, you should be eating."

Hesitantly, once again, you nod and give a respectful bow before walking out of her room.

You thought of a lot of things while eating breakfast, slowly I might add. Kiza watched you, intake the food at such a slow pace it was starting to get cold. She'd attempt to snap you out of it, but somehow, you always went back to mulling over your thoughts, over-analyzing the conversation. "So that's why you never mentioned Amara. You were forbidden to?"

Kiza nods, "Yes, ma'am. Lady Medarda wasn't keen on letting you wallow in your thoughts unless the news was delivered herself." ? You raise an eyebrow at that statement, but you nod.

"Is she, um, still...alive?" You swallow, bracing for the worst. You wouldn't—shouldn't be surprised considering she's a Noxian warlord. Kiza tilts her head, a bit surprised at how curious you are for a woman that got you slapped—well, technically you provoked Ambessa...but still!

"As far as I'm aware, yes."

You let out a breath, somewhat relieved that she hadn't been slaughtered or something. Though, you didn't expect Ambessa to show mercy like that. Was Amara special to her in any way? Or had she decided to chose a more sadistic approach to her punishment than mere death? You swallowed, shuddering at the thought of whatever the general could come up with. "Ah...okay."

The say slowly, very slowly, went by. Kiza, for the first time in a while, was thoroughly confused at both your actions and the expressions etched onto your face. She had never questioned you internally as she did today. Honestly, you don't think you've ever questioned yourself more than today either. God, you wished you be by your sisters, to be doted on and bombarded with affection despite how annoying it sometimes was. You had never longed to go back to that brothel until now.

The clock ticked. Your painting materials were in your hands, your foot tapped anxiously on the floor, and your eyes kept flicking from that clock, to that door. Should you? Should you not?

She asked like she truly wanted you there. What if you wait too long? After all, its been weeks since you last painted. Would she punish you eventually? Enact something cruel. Was this some psychological trick to convince you to come? Or, was she being genuine when she asked? The future is uncertain, and you are quite scared of that fact. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out before ultimately deciding to get up and walk across the estate to reach her room. You weren't going to risk anything bad happening in the future, so you opted to just go ahead.

When she said come in after you knocked, you caught a glance at her expression, and she genuinely looked surprised. "You actually came? Huh..."

Ambessa huffs a laugh, tearing her attention away from you as you set down your materials, to the butch on her lap. Her lips moved to press kisses along the woman's face, pressing skin upon skin. One of Ambessa's hands is pulled between their bodies, fingers diving to feel the interal warmth of the woman's body. The noise was obscene, slick squelching at every thrust of Ambessa's large fingers. Her lips are attached to the woman's on her lap, her free hand groping the perky tits before her. Ambessa's strap is peeking from beneath the body of her guest, the faux cock becoming wet from Ambessa's minstrations right above it. Whimpers spill from the woman's lips, groans slipping from Ambessa's—not without her typical teasing though.

Your eyes flicker to the two, trying to capture the moment as quickly as possible and then start your painting. As much you were compelled to look up, to stare and never remove your eyes, you have to maintain your dignity. Swallowing, you dip the brush in ink, debating if you should paint this position, or wait for another. The strap would probably be the most compelling...

Once again, you look up, eyes widening as they lock with those familar light brown eyes. Ambessa's lips are pressed to another's, her tongue tied with the woman on her lap, yet her eyes look in your direction. Not just in your direction, but at you—not at your painting, at you. She smiles at your widened eyes, huffing a laugh before looking back at her guest with a lot less interest then she had 2 seconds ago at you. "Have you kissed me enough to your liking?" Ambessa whispers, breaking the kiss, locking eyes with her partner. "Or do you need to wet my hand some more?" Your thighs press together, hand stilling.

The woman whines, clearly flustered nods her head. "Yes, ma'am." Ambessa smiles, removing her fingers and slotting them between the woman's lips. With eye contact, she sucks on Ambessa's fingers, licking them clean.

"Good girl," Ambessa mumbles, moving her hands to grip the woman's hips and lift her. She keeps her there with one hand, aligning the strap to her pussy with the other—surprisingly, allowing her to slowly sink onto the faux cock. A strained whimper leaves the woman's lips, her hands gripping onto Ambessa's forearms for dear life, until she's fully seated on the strap. Her face rests in bliss, hips to hips as Ambessa's remains amused at the display. Ambessa grips the woman's hips, ready to bounce her up and down, until those calloused hands stop her.

"I saw a postion once, that I wanted to try..." the woman whispers, lightly encouraging Ambessa to lay her back against the couch with a hand to her chest. Curious, Ambessa obeys in laying back, watching as the lady on top of her leans back, legs spread to display all her glory, and hands now gripping her thighs.

Cute.

Your lips part, entrapped by the image. A spitting image of a painting you had made in the past. Ambessa smiles, watching as her enthusiastic partner tries so hard to both adjust and start moving.

The pathetic grinds of her hips were adorable to Ambessa. She often got a kick out of this. Watching women who display physical power reduced to a needy mess on her lap. Though, she was having far too much freedom, and moving far too slow, so Ambessa opted to grasp onto her hips, thrusting her own to meet the rhythm of her partner's movements. Ambessa watches as those pretty eyes before her flutter closed—moans slipping from those plump lips. However, she doesn't dwell on it long. Instead, her eyes drift to you once more. It's impossible for her not to. Something about you pulled her attention, no matter if you were doing anything exceptional or not. She wanted to see you, your reactions, whatever mundane thing you're embracing in that moment.

You were captivating to her in the simplest way possible.

And her eyes captured an image that proved her right. Your wide, sparkling eyes were so captived. Lips parted, hands stilled over your paper canvas, and a hand stuck between stiff thighs. It made her red-coated lips perk up, her eyebrows lifted, and her light brown eyes sparkle with mischief.

She turned back to her partner, focusing on reaching pleasure (surprisingly) for the both of them. The fabric of the harness around her hips rubs against her clit, sending sparkes of pleasure through her body. Though, she has to admit the mere sight of this woman losing it on her lap is enough to get her off. Your wide, innocent-looking eyes only sent her over the edge. She felt your eyes on her as she reached her climax, and then they left—she shortly found out to paint the outline of the scene. Ambessa chuckles to herself, continuing her thrusts, her arms forcing hips to meet, and her little quips and praises until she was satisfied.

Sex had been boring the past couple of weeks, every interaction felt dull. No matter how beautiful the man or how needy the woman, their kisses, their touches, their tongues—nothing felt satisfactory as if her body had been longing for a missing piece of the pleasure equation.

Yet, here. She felt motivated, amused and excited to rut into this woman's cunt, to hear her whine and to rub her clit until she squirts on her cock. She carried a wolfish grin as her hips drive into cunt that was to entertain her for the night. Her hips were slapping against bare skin, nestling against the ass presented to her. Ambessa's chest is to that woman's back, large hands nearly swallowing the wrists of the woman below her. "Already done? I thought you had more resilience than that?" She teased, knowing damn well she's pulled at least three orgasms from this woman in a short amount of time.

Grunts, strangled moans, and the sound of wet skin slapping together bounced off of walls of the room until Ambessa was thoroughly satisfied. It seemed she had some steam to blow off, and she definitely achieved it at the expense of another's ability to walk without wobbling with soreness.

She groans, rolling her head in a circle as her partner had left for the night. She slips in a robe, but doesn't bother tying it as she steps towards you.

"Again? There's only a rough outline on this paper. I showed you plenty, little girl," she hums, earning a whimpy look up at her—your eyes darting away as you don't wish to be greeted by the sloppy aftermath of the strap still attached to your hips. That seems to be in vain as she squats, the thing bouncing in your face until you look up and into her eyes. "Must I show you more? A solo act? Or perhaps you'd enjoy taking up the role of my partner?"

Your eyes widen at her teasing, "M-My lady! Please, no such jokes. I don't- I- um, no! No, thank you!" You swallow nervously, trying to decline with respect, especially at the shocking suggestion of "taking up the role of her partner." A noble, making a joke about fucking a commoner, is she serious? Gulping, you try and quickly get out of the situation. Your hands rush to gather your materials and sprint out of the room. "I apologize! But- um- I'll finish it in my room! You'll see it in the morn—"

"Stop."

You had successfully reached the door when that booming, commanding voice had ordered you to stop. Fear struck your body as you slowly turned around, fearing you had thoroughly upset her, possibly enough to warrant yet another harsh slap. "Do you really think I would let you leave? What if you pull another trick hm? Come."

"Paint."

"My lady? I just—"

"Ah, ah—come here girl," she hums, calling to you as she sits her bare ass on the ground. She holds out a hand, offering you to take it and come to her. "What's with you and running, hm? You always run as if you don't have the freedom to walk." She smiles as you hesitantly set down your materials and grasp her hand with your own trembling ones. You look down at her nervously, wishing you could hide behind your hair or fade away. She tilts her head, looking up at you with an amused smile without saying a thing. You're confused, looking down at her with—ah...you're looking down...on a noble!!! She lets out a chuckle as your eyes widen with fear and you drop to your knees, bowing your head. "I am so so sorry! I didn't mean—that wasn't my intention, please forgive—!"

She shushes you gently, "Shush child, let me look at you."

You tilt your head, confused as to what she could possibly want. "I- why, may I ask? I don't see what's so intriguing about me to look at, nor why you would..." you mumbles, looking up at her through your lashes.

"You don't see why? Tsk, tsk, tsk, here we are with those lies again," she shakes her head, looking at you with faux disappointment—something that confuses the hell out of you.

"Do you really think me to be stupid? That I haven't noticed the way you squirm under my eye, but not from fear like when we first met, your eyes carry something more...intimate, hm?" Ambessa smiles, taking your widening eyes and stiffening posture, "Do you truly think I haven't noticed the way your thighs squeeze together, knees knocking at every thrust I give my lovers? Regardless of whether you hide your feelings well or not—which you don't—I can practically smell the arousal wafting off of you, child. You aren't slick."

You chew on your body lip, eyes wide and watering. "I- that's-" you can't possibly find the words to defend yourself, because she's right. She watches your bottom lip tremble, small, quiet tears spilling from your eyes.

"Aww," Ambessa coos, its patronizing, nothing meant with true empathy. "That wasn't to goad you into crying, little one." She wipes a tear from your cheek with her thumb. She watches you, observing and listening to your pathetic little sniffles. There's a lot she could say, and there's a lot she wants to say, but she refuses to let that leave her lips. Her eyes only sparkle with amusement with amusement at your stuttering apologies and horrible refutes to the claim. "Oh, sweetness..." she whispers, her expression forming a fake pout.

A thoughtful hum leaves her lips. She ultimately decides against her enthusiastic thoughts and opts to give you a break. This is the first time you've seen each other in weeks.

She calls your name softly. A whisper, a delicate tone that you never thought you'd hear come from her lips. She smiles, nodding towards the door, "Go rest. Though I expect my painting finished by lunch, yes?"

Your eyes widen at her lenience. It seems completely out of character, and you wish to question it, but you don't. You nod, mumbling a 'yes, ma'am' and hurriedly grabbing your materials before she changes her mind. It made her chuckle, you were caught off gaurd. That was the goal, of course, though she never thought you'd be so cute in your reactions. She hums to herself, watching you hesitate, watching you look back at her before creeping out of the room. She unbuckles the harness from her hips, tossing it to the side before laying her back against the cold floors.

Her clean hand, the one she opted to touch you with travels between her thighs, rough fingers pressing against her swollen clit. A groan leaves her lips, but nothing more. She simply closes her eyes and breathes steadily, indulging in herself.

You, on the otherhand, have dropped your materials onto the floor in your room—there's luckily no spill, but you nearly collapse to your knees, whimpering at the interaction you just had. The first time in weeks you see her, and she does that. What does that mean?? Was she serious?? Was she joking?? She had to have been joking, there's no way she realistically would engage with you like that! A job, this is a job, nothing more! But your watery eyes glance down to see the outline of her painting: her guest riding her with vigor, and Ambessa responding with equal energy as her hips are raised to be flush against the woman's.

You swallow, slowly spreading your thighs. You're kneeling on the floor in front the paper, your hand rests on your clothed thigh, but it starts to wander—moving in tune with your thoughts. Slowly, your hand dips into your pants, slowly, you close your eyes, and carefully, you imagine her voice, her actions just now, her grunts and groans—everything about her that was horrifyingly sexy to you.

Leisurely, your fingers rub a circle against your untouched clit. Whatever motion you had decided to pull from memory was uncomfortable, or perhaps the position? Regardless, it was a new feeling, but it felt good.

Too good.

You bite your lip, feeling a tight coil form in your lower belly, the clench of your walls, a strange pressure crashing down on your bladder—and that was enough. You quickly pull your hand from your pants, gasping lightly at the transparent strings connecting your fingers. You whimper, both at the sight and ashamed that you started masturbating to her.

To Ambessa of all people. There is, there should be, a million reasons why you felt somewhat disgusted, yet your brain couldn't seem to bring it forward.

Tears fill your eyes again and you rush to the bathroom, changing your clothes and washing your hands. Just like she said, rest. You need rest, not to stare at that stupid, stupid painting. You take a deep breath, eyes wodnering to it until you turn around and force yourself to keep your eyes off of it.

Sleep, you convince yourself, screwing your eyes shut and desperately hoping that this was some dream, or that you would, at the very least, forget that moment.

(Note: So sorry this took a bit! But I mean, I am writing Kinkmas. I just had the motivation to do this, in lieu of my Kinkmas fic coming out on time but shhhh, and I have been craving her more lately! Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this not proofread chapter. And the masterlist has offically updated to inform y'all of the final chapters—well of act one. Comment your thoughts, let me know what you think. What do you think Amara's punishment was? What do you think Amara's deal is anyway? What do you think Reader's issues are? Lmk!!)

taglist: @trizxyp ; @wolfessa ; @uravitsy @joker-ali ; @pitstopsapphic ;

@p-taryn-dactyl ; @blackgaladriel ; @bbnbhm ; @ynnasaint ; @hellokittyfeenie ;

@arevik2345 ; @klutzylaena ; @pearldaisy ; @jaydennnnnne ; @blackqueengold ;

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@m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 ; @the-doddler + if you wished to be tagged, let me know!

[wolfessa]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

<3

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning. 

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino. 

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,” 

“You’re kidding,” 

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal. 

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever. 

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes. 

“Seems you’ve all been good,” 

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor. 

“Shut up, boy,” 

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact. 

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot. 

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal. 

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins. 

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee. 

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge. 

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll. 

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted. 

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,” 

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then. 

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present. 

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes. 

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place. 

“Gee, Thanks,” 

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him. 

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree. 

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy. 

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday. 

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact. 

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness. 

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,” 

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly. 

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see. 

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room. 

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not. 

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!” 

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself. 

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,” 

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment. 

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering. 

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised. 

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you. 

“Everything alright?” 

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm. 

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen. 

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand. 

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you. 

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one. 

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,” 

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,” 

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. ���I’m going to go get dressed,” 

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt. 

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back. 

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle. 

There was war after that, plain and simple. 

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door. 

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold. 

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day. 

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo. 

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present. 

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets. 

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it. 

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened. 

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird. 

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds. 

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead. 

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good. 

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball. 

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same. 

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel. 

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face. 

“He’s a penis,” 

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts. 

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul. 

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,” 

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful. 

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you. 

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred. 

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety. 

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,” 

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino. 

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered. 

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,” 

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,” 

“And that’s my problem, why?” 

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously. 

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,” 

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen. 

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder. 

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep. 

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking. 

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker). 

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,” 

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,” 

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,” 

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull. 

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits. 

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,” 

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,” Kino quipped. 

“Intentional, sweet boy,” 

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed. 

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing. 

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke. 

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes. 

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children. 

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind. 

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over. 

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons. 

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist. 

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,” 

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,” 

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa. 

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath. 

“Are you going to piss or what child?” 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration. 

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,” 

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life. 

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,” 

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?” 

“Mel, I-” 

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,” 

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed. 

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,” 

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component. 

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker. 

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate. 

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,” 

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,” 

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands. 

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt. 

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,” 

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,” 

“It does?” 

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door. 

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest. 

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,” 

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,” 

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,” 

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,” 

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,” 

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?” 

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,” 

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both. 

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached. 

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway. 

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm. 

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear. 

10

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same. 

9

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure. 

8

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter. 

7

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you. 

6

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor. 

5

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

4

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace. 

3

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her. 

2

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

1

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen. 

Happy New Year!

[wolfessa]

Ambessa Base Splash Art Concepts - Jennifer Wuestling

[wolfessa]

omgomg, please i am STARVED for ambessa content. could you maybe do something about the reader fussing over her injuries from a battle? like, she's experienced, its fine (🙄), but to reader who's not as experienced with violence is stressed about her injuries, no matter how big or small. please?

TENDING TO BLOODY WOUNDS

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Despite the risks, Ambessa tended to throw herself into battle, not caring about what may happen to her. But you, on the other hand, always worried, and it showed when she came back injured.

Request: Anon 🤍

The acrid tang of metal and soot hung in the air, seeping through the cracks of the towering windows. The clash of swords, once so deafening, had faded into an eerie quiet, leaving behind only the soft rustle of wind and the distant calls of retreat. Ambessa Medarda strode into the grand hall like a lioness fresh from the hunt, the flickering glow of torches casting long, fierce shadows over her frame.

Her armor bore the marks of battle—scratches scored deep into the metal, soot-blackened edges, and, most concerning of all, a dark crimson streak just below her ribs. It wasn’t pouring, but it was fresh. Too fresh.

“Ambessa,” you gasped from across the room, heart lurching into your throat.

She glanced your way, expression as sharp and unyielding as ever. Her amber eyes scanned you like she was assessing a soldier’s readiness.

“Don’t start, little one,” she rumbled, already unbuckling her pauldron with one hand, her other arm moving far too stiffly for your liking.

But you had already crossed the room, all too aware of the sticky trail of red trickling down her side. Her gauntlet clattered to the floor as she tried to wave you off. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Your voice pitched higher than you’d intended. “You’re bleeding, Ambessa!”

Her grin was slow, teeth flashing like a predator humoring its prey. “Then it’s a good thing I’ve got so much blood to spare.”

“Don’t joke about this,” you snapped, grabbing her by the wrist. Her eyes flickered with surprise, more amused than irritated. “Sit down. Now.”

“Are you giving me orders, child? How bold.” she drawled, tilting her head like a queen sizing up a challenger.

“Yes. And if you’re as clever as you think you are, you’ll listen.”

Her brows lifted, but she let herself be led to the cushioned bench by the hearth. The firelight flickered against her bronze skin, tracing over every defined muscle, every battle-won scar. You didn’t look at any of those. Not today. Your gaze locked on that fresh wound, the one just beneath her ribs.

“Armor should’ve caught that,” you muttered, crouching in front of her. Your fingers hovered just over the gash, not daring to touch it yet.

“Should’ve,” she admitted, leaning back and resting an arm on her thigh. Her voice was low and steady, like she was already over it. “Got cocky. Happens.”

“Don’t ‘happens’ me, Ambessa.” You glanced up, eyes sharper than you knew you could be. “This could’ve been worse. Much worse.”

Her gaze softened—just a flicker, barely there. “But it wasn’t,” she murmured, voice like a low purr. She tilted her head, watching you as if you were a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. “Look at you. All bristled up over a little scratch.”

“Little scratch,” you repeated, deadpan, wiping your hands on your skirts. “You call that a little scratch, and you expect me to be calm about it?”

Her only response was a half-smile, her eyes narrowing in that familiar, maddening way she always had when she thought you were being overly dramatic. Her gaze was heavy, sure of itself, like the world would bend to her will if she just pressed hard enough. But you weren’t about to bend.

“Off,” you said, tapping her chest plate.

She raised a brow.

“Don’t make me do it myself,” you warned, and though your heart was thundering in your chest, your voice didn’t waver. You’d learned to hold steady under her gaze—a feat that not many could claim.

Ambessa snorted but complied, her grin still crooked as she tugged at the straps. Each piece of armor came off with a heavy clunk, and every clang made you wince. Finally, she shrugged off her breastplate, the leather underlay darkened with sweat and—your stomach twisted—blood.

You drew in a breath through your nose, exhaling slowly. “Alright,” you murmured, voice gentler now. You reached for the clean cloth from the table and the small basin of water you’d kept on hand for this very reason. “Lean back.”

Her eyes flickered with amusement. “Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“And yet, you’re listening.” You didn’t give her a chance to retort, pressing the damp cloth to her side.

She hissed between her teeth, her stomach muscles flexing under your hands. “Tch, careful.”

“Don’t tell me to be careful,” you shot back, furiously focused on the wound. “I’m not the one who got stabbed.”

She let out a low, quiet chuckle, eyes half-lidded like this was all some grand entertainment. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Don’t.” You glanced up, and whatever she saw on your face must have given her pause. Her grin faltered.

Your hands slowed, your gaze locked on hers. “Don’t brush this off, Ambessa,” you said quietly, dipping the cloth back into the basin. “Not with me.”

Her amber eyes shifted, a shadow of something unspoken moving behind them. She tilted her head back against the stone wall, closing her eyes briefly. “Alright, little one. I hear you.”

The silence that followed was weighty but not uncomfortable. The fire crackled softly, and the warmth of the flames danced over the curve of her jaw and cheekbones. Your hands moved with care, wiping away the dried blood, cleaning the edges of the wound as gently as you could. Each small wince from her made your chest ache, but she said nothing.

“You scare me sometimes, you know that?” you muttered.

Her eyes slid open, sharp gaze pinning you like a hawk spotting prey. “I scare everyone, love.”

“Not like that,” you murmured, squeezing the cloth over the basin and watching the water turn red. “I’m not scared of you. I’m scared for you.”

Her eyes softened at that, just for a moment. Her lips pressed into a line, and she reached out, calloused fingers brushing the side of your cheek. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you whispered, tilting into her touch. You pressed a clean cloth to her side, eyes flickering up to meet hers. “I don’t have to be okay with that.”

Her eyes lingered on you like you were the only thing worth watching in the whole world. Slowly, her thumb traced along your cheekbone, a quiet, unspoken promise in the way she looked at you. She exhaled a slow, tired breath, letting her shoulders drop from their perpetual readiness.

“Then I’ll try harder,” she said softly, like it wasn’t a hard thing to promise. “For you.”

You glanced at the wound, brow furrowed in concentration. It wasn’t deep—thank the stars—but it needed to be wrapped. Your hands moved with practiced care, securing the bandage tightly around her middle. Her breathing remained slow and steady, but her eyes stayed on you the entire time.

When you were done, you smoothed your hands over the edge of the bandage, fingers lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “That’ll hold,” you said quietly, not looking up at her.

“Better work than most of my field medics,” she admitted, tilting her head down to inspect your handiwork. Her gaze slid back to yours, more warmth in her eyes than you’d seen all day. “You’ve got a steady hand, little bird.”

“Steady hands, shaky heart,” you replied, finally glancing up at her. Your lips quirked in a faint smile. “One of us has to worry.”

Her gaze dropped to your lips. It wasn’t subtle. Her thumb brushed your chin, tilting your face up to hers. “Then worry a little closer,” she murmured.

Your breath caught, heart suddenly louder than the crackling fire. Her lips met yours—not fierce, not wild, but with a gentleness you hadn’t expected from a woman so forged in war. Her palm cradled the back of your neck, holding you steady as if you might break if she wasn’t careful.

It wasn’t the kiss of a queen. It wasn’t the kiss of a conqueror. It was the kiss of someone who knew how fragile the world could be.

When she pulled back, her forehead pressed to yours, her eyes half-closed and her breath warm against your lips.

“Still here,” she whispered, and this time, it wasn’t just reassurance—it was a vow.

You closed your eyes, heart full, fingers brushing the edge of her bandages one last time. “Yeah,” you breathed, a quiet smile on your lips. “Still here.”

[wolfessa]

General’s Muse.

(Ambessa Medarda x Fem!reader) 

Ambessa loves to paint, and being her best friend for a long time, she had asked for you to become her muse. You agreed excitedly- that was until you discovered how nude you’d have to be for the painting.

Warnings: (Ambessa Medarda x fem!Reader) (smut) (manhandling) (dom!ambessa) (sub!reader) (paint on body) (praise) (kind of filthy)

Not proof read so please excuse the errors and spelling mistakes. Masterlist.

The soft warm breeze of the afternoon wind blew against your skin as you poured Ambessa her third refill of wine. You were her best friend, her closest companion- which is why, she had invited you to come and talk with her, to relax.

Ambessa was always distracted with her work as a general, whether it be dealing with people who attempted to fight back against her, or being the general of a war. How could you not fall in love with her? She was everything you’d ever wanted.

She was tall, towering over you, taunting the fact with pride. Her muscles which she showed off regularly- You had become friends long ago when you offered your loyalty to her- your complete undying loyalty. She adored that you offered yourself up, even finding it somewhat cute.

You on the other hand? You were a medic once- working under Ambessa. But your relationship changed from boss to friends when she had asked you if you would ever betray her, when you sat next to her cleaning the cut she had gotten from a battle. Her expression was strong, just like it always was, but she lacked her usual ego, her ego that had gotten her so far as a ruthless feared leader.

But when you cleaned her cut so gently, stitched the skin together so delicately as if she’d break- her entire strong war general facade fell. From that night on, your friendship had developed, and you had become her closest friend.

Ambessa’s voice brought you back from your thoughts, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Thank you darling.” She’d comment, swirling the wine around the glass a few times before bringing the glass up to her lips, sipping slowly.

You hummed in response, placing the wine bottle down onto the small table, taking your seat at the other couch.

Ambessa let out a heavy breath, her gaze glued onto the glass. The colour of the wine reminded her of the colours she’d use to paint, the dark red a reminder of a shade she’d use to draw people’s faces- area’s below the waistline.

You noticed her expression, deep in thought and reminiscing. Your soft voice reached her ear, a slight smile on your face.

“I wish I was a mind reader y’know.. I’d be much help.”

The woman chuckled at your joke, her attention on you as she shook her head softly, sitting up.

“I wouldn’t want to ruin that sweet mind of yours.”

Sweet? Your mind wasn’t sweet- you thought of things… they were definitely not sweet.

Right?

“Hey I’m not that sweet-“ you tried arguing, but before you could even mutter out the next words, she had waked her way over, a finger tilted your chin up

“Care to be my muse for my newest painting?” She’d asked so politely- her thumb caressing your cheek it almost caught you off guard. Wait but she did that with every one right, it was nothing new…

…

Right?

You had never been more excited, you basically jumped in your seat at her request- a bright smile plastering your entire face. “Yes!- I’d be delighted to!” You replied.

Ambessa’s artworks were brilliant. You’d seen the results before, you envied the models, from how Ambessa’s eyes would stay trained on them, all the while drawing the most beautiful painting of the model. Each stroke she paint stroke contributed in depicting her true admiration for women, from how fell she had defined their features which they felt insecure about.

It was clear from the way she painted the women, that she worshipped the female species itself. And finally- she had asked you.

Ambessa removed her hand, gesturing you to follow her. She guided you to a different room. Her painting room. She had a massive open space, like a balcony- her canvas was already prepared, her paint and brushes set out.

“Take off your clothes and lay down darling.” She’d asked- more so demanded casually. Your eyes widened immediately at her words. She was going to do a nude painting? She hadn’t even prepared your for it. Did she realise how insane it sounded? To have you sprawled out on the soft cushion, nude and bare, while her eyes focused all over your body.

Your heart practically jumped at the thought.

“Nude?- I don’t think I can do nude.” You whispered hesitantly as if the word itself felt dirty. Her reply was nothing more than warm and alluring, it felt like honey, so sweet.

“You must try new things child. You will stay the same forever if you don’t.”

You looked down at the floor- the wheels in your head turning. In that time, Ambessa had managed to stand behind you, speaking with her usual voice, placing her large hands on your shoulder.

“I assure you, nothing bad will come out of this.” So she’d promised. And you trusted her, just as much she trusted you. It was mutual trust both of you respected and kept, and now was one of those times when she needed you to trust her.

For a long time now, Ambessa had been watching you. Your cute little smile whenever she praised you, or the way your head would tilt slightly to the side when you were met with a troubling question. She had grown to adore you. And she needed a painting of you in her room, so she could admire it late at night, when she wished more than anything that you would be hers.

“Okay, I’ll do it.” You complied, a soft breath escaping your lips as you prepared yourself. You felt excited and nervous at the thought of her seeing you naked. Exposed and vulnerable.

She rewarded your answer with a smile, removing her hand as she walked towards the canvas, rolling her sleeves up. She turned away, giving you time to strip.

You had taken all your clothes off, hand wrapped around your own torso to hide your boobs, one thigh slightly raised to cover your core. “I’m done” you whispered out nervously.

Ambessa turned to you, her smiled still unwavering. Her eyes trailed up and down your entire body excruciatingly slowly as she walked towards you.

“Don’t hide such beautiful treasures” she spoke confidently grabbing your wrist, small in comparison to hers, pulling them down, revealing your boobs. With your wrist still in her hand, she turned around, guiding you to the couch.

“Lay, child.” She commanded. You did as she said, laying down stomach facing up,your movements were stiff and nervous, to which a chuckle she responded with.

She manhandled your body, perfecting you into a position. She’d moved every single hip and bone to the perfect angle. Ambessa had done nude paintings, but she didn’t put nearly as much effort it perfecting the pose. She wanted everything to be a clear representation of you. Your personality.

She moved back, grabbing a brush as she dipped it into a paint colour. As she swiped across the canvas, you admired her. Her goddess warrior figure, her beautiful hair that were loose, grey and curly.

Each spot her eyes lingered on grew hot. But you could see the way she was so focused, her eyebrows furrowed together tightly, her hand sweetly levitating across the canvas as her brush rolled against the surface.

It didn’t take her long before she was halfway done. Before she told you she had to step out for some more paint, returning back to the room with a whole tub of red paint. Her favourite colour.

The way Ambessa painted, wasn’t one of detailed realistic artworks, no, her art was many pieces of paint piled, mixed, creating different colours- messy but beautiful in the way she drew you.

“Would you like to see?” She questioned admiring the artwork. You wasted no time jumping from your position, some parts of your body numb. But when you saw the artwork, you squealed. She had drawn you the prettiest you could ever see yourself, everything from the way your smile looked, to the way your hips created curves.

“You’re quite the perfect muse.” She whispered suddenly stepping towards you. The woman loved seeing your shocked face, her expression filled with adoration. “Have I ever mentioned how pretty you are?”

You grew red.“No but, thank you-” In Ambessa’s eyes, you fell nothing short of a love god.

You turned your back to the artwork, looking up at Ambessa with gratitude. When you took a small step back to create distance between the two of you, your heel hit the bucket of filled with red paint, making it splatter all across the floor. You lost your balance, from stepping on the uneven surface, making you fall right into the paint- naked.

Ambessa chuckled down at you, not the slightest bit upset. Accidents happened and she knew you were okay from your embarrassed smile. She just wanted to kiss that cheesy look off your face.

But the way your chest jiggled slightly when you pointed onto the floor, the way your thighs slapped against the floor aroused her more than she liked to admit.

“Be careful darling.” She held out her hand, to which you took quickly. She swiftly pulled you up, only for her to quickly twist your body, making you press against the canvas. You gasped in response- oh no, you’d ruined her artwork.

She saw your guilty expression and O shaped mouth, a grin coating her mouth. She tilted your chin up making you look at her.

“Y/n…you’ve done more than enough for me to prove your loyalty to me. And over the countless years I’ve known you, I’ve developed feelings for you, ones I now realise I cannot control. I apologise if my advances are too forward, but this is how I feel.”

Your jaw slacked at her words.

The general kept you up against the canvas, pushing her knee in between your thighs, her hand coming up to cup your face. Her face leaning down close to your lips. She noticed how you nuzzled against her hand, tilting your head slightly, bringing up your arms to hold her hand, giving it a small kiss. Then flipping her hand over and kissing a scar on her hand.

Her eyes visibly relaxed and softened at your actions. She knew you felt the same. And if your actions didn’t speak for you, your gentle voice did. “Ambessa, I’ve felt that way since the night we became friends.”

That alone was enough reassurance for her to crash her plump lips into yours, your soft whimper fuelling her desire to see you crumble.

Her hands grabbed your waist, lifting you with ease, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around her hip. She carried you to the mattress, laying you down while she crawled on top of you. She leaned down kissing you again as her hand reached down to your exposed glistening pussy, rubbing your clit in slow and deliberate motions.

You moaned into the kiss, hands gripping onto her muscly back. You were sure that her skin, that bathed in milk, would recover rather quickly, trained from last battle scars.

Her left hand and grabbed your boob, fiddling and squeezing. Co-ordinated even. Her right, shoved her finger in without warning, ramming it in an out of your pussy that swallowed her whole. Just as you were close, when your hips buckled uncontrollably, your moans becoming unhinged- she pulled her hand away, forcing it in your mouth. “Suck it” she demanded.

You were confused- why did she stop suddenly? The whine that left your mouth got silenced and muffled by her finger, coated in your slick. You obeyed her wishes, sucking on her finger.

“You shouldn’t have ruined my painting child.” She smirked removing her hand, lifting you up once again to see the painting.

It was pretty, yes, but on the side, the entire outline of your body was left in her favourite red colour. Your ass, your things, your hands everything- was outlined.

——————————————————————————

Guys I’m sorry this is so long 😞 but I couldn’t help it and I sort of suck at smut but I tried my best- I working on the other requests.

Anyway it’s currently 5:34 Am in the morning that I’m publishing this-

Tired asf but hope you enjoyed soft Ambessa

-Lillian 💕

[wolfessa]

ARCANE | Ambessa Model Groom | Flora Andrivon

[wolfessa]

Fuck biology I truly know she can get me pregnant frrr

God I would give her as many offspring as she wants

[wolfessa]

GILDED WARMTH

Ambessa x f!reader

Synopsis: Ambessa could tell that you have been wearing yourself thin lately, so she decides to help you by allowing you to both bathe with one another.

A/N: I honestly just needed to write a moment with this woman because omg.

The night hummed with the low murmur of distant city lights and the faint clang of metal on metal. Noxian evenings were never quiet, but within the grand villa of Ambessa Medarda, the world outside felt like a far-off dream. Warmth radiated from every corner of the marble-clad bathroom, the glow of soft amber sconces dancing against the stone walls. The scent of sandalwood and spiced vanilla lingered in the air, curling like a lazy ribbon of smoke.

You stood at the threshold, gaze flicking from the large, sunken bath filled with steaming water to the imposing figure at its edge — Ambessa. Her eyes, sharp as ever, tracked your every movement, a predator’s focus softened only by the faintest tug at the corner of her lips. She wore a loose robe of crimson silk that hung lazily off one shoulder, her bronze skin kissed with the glow of the flickering lights. Power and elegance radiated from her in equal measure, her presence filling the room as easily as the rising steam.

“You’re just going to stand there gawking, little one?” she asked, arching a brow. Her voice was smooth but edged with mischief, like velvet draped over steel. “Or do I need to come fetch you myself?”

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you rolled your eyes as you stepped forward. “You like making me squirm, don’t you?”

Her laugh rumbled low in her chest, a sound rich with amusement. “Of course I do,” she admitted, reaching out a hand toward you. “But tonight, I’m feeling indulgent. Come here.”

You took her hand, and in one smooth pull, you were drawn closer, the warmth of her body a stark contrast to the cool air. She tilted her head, gaze softening as she looked you over. Her thumb traced slow, lazy circles over your knuckles.

“You’ve been running yourself ragged, haven’t you?” she murmured, her golden eyes narrowing in quiet scrutiny. “I can see it in the way you carry yourself.”

You shrugged, eyes flitting to the bath behind her. “I’ve been fine. Busy, but fine.”

“Mm,” she hummed doubtfully. Her other hand lifted, two fingers brushing tenderly over your cheek. Her touch was gentle, but there was no mistaking the command in her voice. “No more of that tonight. Undress.”

Your heart skipped, your breath hitching just a fraction. Her gaze held yours, steady and unwavering. It wasn’t a demand—it was a gift, a kindness disguised as command. Slowly, you nodded, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

Her eyes never left you.

There was no shame in the way she watched. No hunger, no impatience—just a quiet appreciation as if you were a canvas she intended to study every inch of. As you stripped away the last layer, goosebumps raised on your skin from the cool air, but Ambessa’s gaze burned hotter than any flame.

“Beautiful,” she said plainly, like it was a fact of nature rather than a compliment. Her eyes met yours, unwavering. “In every way.”

Heat bloomed again—not embarrassment, but something warmer, deeper. You glanced away, biting back a grin. “You flatter me far too much...”

“Only when the truth demands it,” she replied, her voice rich with sincerity.

With a gesture, she released the knot of her own robe, letting the fabric slip from her shoulders like a silk waterfall. Her body, all carved muscle and sharp elegance, was unashamedly on display. A living monument to strength. She stepped into the bath first, the water rippling around her as she sank to a seated position with a contented sigh. She leaned back, arms stretched out along the edges, her eyes half-lidded with the sort of satisfaction that only comes from absolute control over one’s own world.

“Come,” she said again, her voice softer now but no less firm.

You followed, carefully lowering yourself into the water. It was hotter than expected, but the heat quickly eased into your muscles. A sigh escaped you unbidden, your eyes falling shut for a moment. Warmth curled around every inch of you, like being embraced by sunlight after a storm.

Before you could fully settle, Ambessa’s hands were on you—large, steady hands guiding you to sit between her legs, your back pressed to her chest. Her skin was slick with heat, and her arms wrapped around you with the certainty of a shield.

“Better?” she murmured against the shell of your ear, her breath warm on your skin.

“Much,” you admitted, letting your head fall back against her shoulder. The steady thump of her heartbeat echoed against your spine. For a moment, you let yourself be still. No deadlines. No tasks. Just this. Just her.

Her fingers moved slowly, languidly, dragging through the water to find your arm. She lifted it, her fingers massaging the muscles with care. Firm but gentle. Purposeful. She worked her way from your shoulder down to your fingertips, every knot of tension she found undone with practiced ease.

“You’re always so stubborn,” she muttered, pressing her thumb into a particularly tight spot in your forearm. “Always carrying more weight than you should. It’s a foolish habit.”

“Sounds like someone I know,” you shot back, peeking at her with a raised brow.

Her grin was all teeth. “A fair point,” she allowed, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. The heat of her lips lingered long after.

She continued her work, lathering sweet-scented oils onto her palms before running them down your arms, over your shoulders, and across your back. The glide of her hands against your skin was slow, deliberate. Each touch was a reminder that you were here, that you were seen. She worked the oil into your scalp next, her fingers threading through your hair, her nails scratching lightly at your scalp. It was intoxicating, the feel of her hands, her presence.

“You’re mine,” she said softly, like an oath. Her lips brushed the side of your temple. “Even if the world takes you away from me for a time, you will always return, hm?”

Her words settled into you, their weight heavier than stone, but not unwelcome. You tilted your head, letting her see the fondness in your eyes. “Always.”

For a while, the two of you stayed like that—your body melting under her ministrations, her strong hands never ceasing their gentle work. The water grew cooler, but the warmth between you never faltered.

When at last she stirred, it was with a soft hum of discontent. “Come, little one. Before the cold finds us.”

Reluctantly, you shifted, letting her rise first. Water streamed off her form in rivulets, and she stepped out of the bath with all the grace of a lioness on the prowl. She grabbed a thick towel from a nearby rack, turning back to you. Her brow raised expectantly.

“Do I have to?” you whined, still soaking in the warmth of the bath.

Her eyes narrowed playfully, but she said nothing. Instead, she held open the towel, arms wide, gaze fixed on you with patience sharpened by affection.

“Alright, alright,” you muttered, lifting yourself out of the water. Cool air prickled your skin instantly, but before you could shiver, she wrapped you in the towel, her arms encircling you once more. The scent of her filled your senses—cedar, white musk, and something unmistakably her.

She rubbed the towel over you with slow, deliberate movements, drying every inch of you with care. Her lips pressed light kisses to the crown of your head, to your cheek, to the soft space just behind your ear. You melted anew, every ounce of tension gone.

When she was satisfied, she draped a second towel over your shoulders, like a queen bestowing a royal mantle. Her gaze swept over you with approval, her hands resting on your waist.

“You are mine, little one,” she said again, leaning down until her forehead touched yours. Her eyes locked with yours, golden and fierce. “And I take care of what is mine.”

Her lips met yours—not with hunger, but with certainty. A claiming kiss. A promise.

And in the quiet glow of that room, the world outside ceased to matter.

The weight of everything could wait.

You were hers.

A/N: I know this is kinda short, but I hope it wasn’t too bad. It was a kinda-in-the-moment-but-I-need-that type of mood.

[wolfessa]

she's a messy eater

[wolfessa]

Ambessa Medarda expects nothing but the best from her pets. How else would she be able to show them off in front of the other warlords?

cw: wlw, consensual D/s, inspection, fondling, fingering, smut

------

"Display."

The command from behind snapped you out of your brief reverie. You spread your legs apart and placed your hands behind your head with elbows spread wide. Held still. Naked and still with your eyes cast downwards.

Warlord Ambessa Medarda hummed as she circled you. "Hm, faster this time, eh? I'd almost believe you'd been practicing without me. Even still..." Her words lingered. She stopped behind you once more, and you shuddered when her lips ghosted the shell of your ear. "...your stance"—she pushed the inside of your thigh with two fingers—"needs work. I expect them wider."

You widened.

"Forty-five degrees, pet, like I taught you," she scolded. When she reclaimed her spot in front of you, she examined the space between your legs. "Not sixty and not thirty. Don't make me repeat myself. Understood? Speak."

"Yes, Warlord."

Despite your official status as her beloved concubine, you didn't have the luxury of undermining her right now. Ambessa was a large and intimidating woman, ruthless and cunning beyond her stature. The scars decorating her dark skin dictated a thousand stories of war and betrayal, situations of life and death you'd never be able to comprehend. In what world would you jeopardize her position and claim to authority for a temporary ego boost? This wasn't the practice session for it. You'd have ample opportunities in the future.

"Straighten your back, little one." When you did, Ambessa proceeded with her study of your form. "I did inform you this banquet is important, didn't I? I see you've taken that to heart. But did I tell you why?"

You did not respond, only made the minute adjustments to your form as she demanded.

"We Noxians respect power over all, no matter what form it takes. What better way to display such power than through the subjects you command?" She paused. Gave you a once-over. She cupped your cheek with a large hand, then ventured south over your collar to balance one breast in her palm. Your lack of a reaction earned you a pleased nod. "The banquet is nothing more than a gathering of warlords eager to boast about their claims. Important, still, but a...networking event, so to speak."

You swallowed as her touch lingered at your breasts, unable to help the shiver from the possessive graze of their undersides.

"You'll be on display. At my side, of course. You are my most prized pet, after all. But you will be scrutinized by the other warlords. Touched..."

She pinched a nipple.

"...Fondled..."

Kneaded your ass.

"...Violated."

Two fingers slid along your cunt.

You whimpered and flinched, nearly dropping your stance.

"Your ability to keep your composure reflects upon me." She teased your entrance before breaching slowly. "What kind of lord would I be if I couldn't train my own pets? That's why I demand perfection from you. All of you. But especially my prize."

You dripped around the one finger that had entered you, and a single bead of your arousal slid down your thigh. You fidgeted in place, mentally begging to be put out of your misery in this godforsaken position. But you had to hold on. For you and for her.

"I have high expectations for you, pet. I need to know you're ready for what comes ahead. It'll be a special day for us both."

Your breathing grew erratic. You blinked multiple times in succession, hoping to rid yourself of this nightmare.

Another finger filled you as the pad of her thumb caressed your clit. Your breath hitched and you could not take any more.

Ambessa shot you a look that bordered between mischief and pity, a look you barely caught out of the corner of your eye. "Hm? Is there something you need to say? Speak freely."

"M-May I come? Please..."

"Already?" Her scarred lip twitched in mirth, and she withdrew her fingers, pulling a groan from your chest. "I've barely touched you."

You whined.

Ambessa tutted. "Ah ah. Don't you dare. Use your words."

You sighed instead. "Please, Warlord? Please let me come..."

It may not have shown on her face, but Ambessa broke in seconds. She found your whining unbearable, but hearing you beg never failed to make her falter.

"You did improve your timing today. Though, I still expect better from you in your positioning." She pressed her palm against your pussy, and you jerked against it, breaking your rigid stance. She sighed dramatically.

"You may."

You only lasted four thrusts after she plunged back into you. Noxian swears dribbled from your lips as your orgasm ripped through you. Shaking and spent, your knees buckled and you collapsed into her chest. Your heart clamored in your ribs while hers beat with the whisper of a soft drum, utterly calm and at ease. When she pulled her hand away, your cunt twitched and grasped at nothing.

She held you close, and you floated away in her arms to land in the plush satin of the canopied bed you sometimes shared with her on nights you desired her embrace. When your brain reset itself and your attention returned, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue as you were trained to clean up your messes after making them.

Ambessa wiped her still-wet fingers across and down your tongue, painting your mouth with your own essence. "You should know, pet, I don't plan for anyone to touch you in the ways I do. It would be an act of aggression against me. We Noxians may exhibit pride in our strengths, but we aren't barbarians. You can at least expect a level of respect when you're there."

When you cleaned off her fingers with your lips and tongue, Ambessa cupped your chin. "Now, what do you say?"

You locked eyes with hers, the only time you were allowed during your training and scenes. "Thank you."

"Good," she husked, and released you thereafter. "That's enough training for today. Now, come. We both need a bath. That is...if you can still walk."