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potchi-fics · 7 hours ago

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note: no smut LOL IM SORRY, I GOT HOME AND I FELL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH CUS IM SO TIREDDDDDDD YALL THIS IS ALL I GOT, THIS IS ALL I GOT. i cannot even fathom how i managed to write this (not proofread, ill do it when i wake up pls meow meow) this is the part two of playing with fire

the twitch of your eye portrays the frustration seeping through you, the paper in your hand greatly souring your mood. you do not know how many hours you have been hunched over your desk, but the soreness in your shoulders and the glasses slipping on the bridge of your nose tell you.

something isn’t right with what you’re seeing; the numbers, dates, even the signatures are incorrect. you straighten your posture, your weight leaning on the elbow of the hand you’re using to hold the sheet of paper, your hair falling into the frame of your face, and your other rubbing your chin in deep thought.

“arden,” you called out to your assistant beside you, “who did this sloppy of a paperwork? i thought i made myself clear about doing work proficient–”

you’re cut off when the door to your office is suddenly opened. you mask your surprise when you see her, ambessa medarda.

she has a scowl on her face; her stare is full of anger, the tips of her fingers turning white with how hard she’s clenching her hands.

“never learned of knocking, general? and i believe our meeting is set for next week.” you look back down to the paper, doubt still gnawing in the pits of your stomach, “i also believe that i did not summon for you. what brings you here?”

she all but growls, but, she doesn’t know if it's due to her anger or… you—the appearance of you: your posture, your tired-looking face, the skin of your legs from the split of your dress; a goddess is what you are, she thinks.

she savours the image of you before her. however, without even sparing her a glance, you spoke.

“general, speak.”

instantly responding, she baffles you with her words, “the supposed resources that are to be delivered to me have not reached me, your majesty. what is the meaning of this?”

“pardon?” you motion to arden to leave, bowing to you, she quietly leaves, “i am afraid i do not know what you are saying, general.”

ambessa walks a step closer, “this will put a strain on our contract, your majesty, i hope you are aware of that.”

“general, i am fully aware.” a hand takes your glasses off, and you lean back on your chair, eyes closing at the feeling of your back stretching. “on the other hand, i do not know what you mean when you say the shipment has not been completed.”

“i do hope you are not playing dumb, your majes–”

“i can assure you, general, i am not.”

how she loves riling you up. how your fingers twitch in anger, your eyes scrutinizing her, knowing how powerful she is and yet, you hold your ground. she loves all of it.

ambessa reveled in it.

“apologies for the inconvenience, general,” ignoring her smug look, you stand up, and walk around your desk to show her the papers, you beckon her over, “come. take a look at this.”

she does, nearing you until you start to feel her figure looming over you. “sloppy paperwork, your majesty.”

“do not even get me started. that is filthy.” you spread the sheets on your desk, ignoring how the proximity is sending warmth to your abdomen, “look, something is not right, correct?”

she leans over your shoulder, and a soft exhale emits from you, “correct, your majesty.”

“what’s worse is not only did this happen once, but thrice.” you can feel your anger bubbling over, “three times. someone has been stealing from me, selling it to others. i will take care of everything, general. see to it that the shipment will be delivered soon.”

ambessa made no move to back away, “hoping to dismiss me so quickly, your majesty? here i was thinking you��re finally softening up on me.” she pressed on, her breath hitting the back of your ear, “i must say, that does hurt.”

“need i remind you of your so-called thoughts about professional entanglements, general? i am starting to think you want me to break them.” your eyes close, the heat on your abdomen traveling down, pooling between your legs. “oh, you would love that, won’t you, general?”

you let out a shaky breath when you feel her hand on your stomach, your back pressing against her front, her nose slotting it behind your ear, smelling the fragrance you sprayed, “so innocent for a bold little lamb.”

“mhmm,” the hum vibrates your chest. you raise your right arm, your fingers grazing her cheek, then burying them into the back of her head, pulling her head down slightly, and you push back against her to whisper into her ear, “you aren’t exactly subtle, as well, general.”

she could destroy you with the strength she has, she could tear you into pieces by pieces. you focus on her body, on her bulging muscles, her long fingers, and her firm-toned stomach.

your thoughts run wild; you would take everything. ambessa places a kiss on the side of your neck. this is wrong. both of you knew that, but why aren’t you stopping?

you give her more access, and her kisses leave a fire in their wake, from your jaw to your pulse, pecking it over and over again, you scratch her scalp tenderly in appreciation. she grabs your hand that’s on her head, manhandling you to turn you around.

you peer up at her through your eyelashes, eyes parted and your breaths shallow. your neck and cheeks are flushed. ambessa was no better: her irises darkened, she was breathing heavily, and she looked like she was holding herself back from doing something.

her palm gently meets your cheek, her thumb running along your bottom lip, “i am far from innocent, ambessa.”

and she is spiraling. she nudges herself between your legs, forcing you to sit on your desk. her hand is now grasping the whole side of your neck, with her thumb now tracing along your cheekbone. she needs to hear you say her name again. she yearns for you to utter out her name once more.

“say it again.”

“ambessa.”

she leans in. she’s a mere millimeters away when a knock stopped her. you gently push her away, hurriedly fixing your appearance. she could only grit her teeth, her gaze was fixed on the door, fury evident in her eyes.

if looks could kill, the person on the other side would be dead.

you clear your throat, you soothe out the creases on your dress, “come in.”

“your majesty, general,” arden greets, “i dug around, asked around, too, and i found out who did those papers, your majesty.” you nod for her to keep going, “it’s holloway.”

your gaze snaps to her, a deep frown mars your expression, “lieutenant holloway? but why? where is he?”

“at the docks, your majesty.”

…

the soles of your boots slam down against the pavement, your mood beginning to turn bitter once you spot the man you’re looking for, “holloway.” he turns around and quickly meets a fist to his face. “what have you done?”

“yo-your majesty,” he crumples to the ground, holding his bleeding nose, he spots arden and the warlord behind you, “what–what’s happening?”

“you have been stealing from me,” the blade of your sword is pressed dangerously against his throat, “and the general. have you got no shame and brain? you have put my–OUR nation in danger. let me ask you again, what have you done?”

“our nation? oh please, i’ve been making much more money than you.”

“is this what it’s about? money?” your sword hovers, “you would risk an entire nation for money? you would betray me, your queen, your empress, for money? you are easily bought.”

he shouts, “and you are a whore. a whore for that slut of a gener–”

with a swift slash, you cut off the hand that’s holding his nose. blood spurts and bursts out of the now stump, “mind your mouth, holloway. if it is i you wish to speak ill of, do it. however, if you dare to insult the general, then that is simply a foolish thing for you to do.”

ignoring the blood gathering at your feet, or some of it getting on your dress, you turn to your army of men who are watching.

your gaze cold and dead, you point at holloway using your bloody sword, “make the same mistake and i will ensure that you will hold a much worse fate.” you walk to him, grabbing him by his hair, dragging him to kneel in front of the general, relishing in his screams and whimpers, “apologize.”

“in your dreams, bitch. i’m not apologizing to this slu–”

“holloway, you are beginning to test my patience.” grabbing his head once more, you force him to look up, “apologize.”

she has never seen this side of you. this ruthless and unforgiving side of you sends tremors to her hands, weakens her knees, and dries her mouth and lips.

the fire never left ambessa and it is spreading throughout her body, it’s burning and uncomfortable.

“fine. have it your way, holloway. hold him down.” you call out to your men, and they seize him by his arms, legs, shoulders, every part of him, “you brought this upon yourself. hold out his tongue.” knowing what you’re about to do, he thrashes in their holds but it’s no use. he begins to plea, escape, anything. “i have given you your chances, holloway. accept the consequences.”

only his screams of terror and agonizing pain can be heard, his screeches making the birds flock away, his blood staining the ground, creating a puddle.

he looks at his hand and tongue in horror that is dying on the floor, and then up at you, only to be met with hollow ones—lifeless eyes of yours that are like staring into an abyss of darkness. you cover his mouth, your hand squeezing his jaw, adding more pain.

“a hand for stealing, a tongue for disparaging remarks,” you shove him away, not caring that his blood is on your hand, “run.”

you turn around just as he takes off, clutching his hand to his chest, looking around wildly as the men he used to order around are looking at him with disgust in their eyes.

you bow your head to the general, “i must apologize for all of this mess, general. i… stay for a little while i assort your shipment. i will have my men board your resources to your ship.” you turn to look at the retreating figure in the distance. “kill him.”

a bang ends your day at the docks.

…

“my, my, what a wonderful sight that was, your majesty.” ambessa sipped her tea, her legs spreading as she sat, “didn’t take you for a killer.”

crossing your legs, your silk dress, now having changed, riding up, “i have done worse, general. much worse things that would make yours look like a child’s play.”

she raises a brow at you. though her stare quickly travels down to your legs, openly looking at you, from your legs to your thighs, all the way up to your chest.

absolutely no shame, you think to yourself, smirking slightly. this woman is a piece of art, her skin, her stature, her scars. and then you remember how she felt like when pressed against you. her solid frame, how her presence can engulf your being, it suffocates you.

yet you want more.

“your majesty, i doubt that. i have killed everything that stands in my way.”

you hum, your eyes raking over her form, “that, i don’t doubt.”

you wonder how it would feel to be underneath her, holding you down from moving, to force you to take everything she will give you. unconsciously, you squeeze your thighs together.

ambessa notices.

“it seems like we were interrupted earlier, no?” her voice drops an octave.

you bite your lip. your action spurring her on. she can’t help it anymore. all these playful banters, the tension, it’s too much for ambessa. you are too much for her.

maybe it’s time you let yourself indulge.

“i believe so, yes…” you take it yourself to move and sit on her lap. in the blink of an eye, her hands are on your thighs, rubbing smooth circles and slipping under your dress, “would you like to continue, ambessa?”