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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years ago

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Consequenses // Thomas Raggi

words // 1590

warnings // smut ahead hehe and not even a full smut, just a snippet honestly

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. ok please let me know on the taglist link if you have asked me to tag you and i havent right now... I lost some of the user names so yeah im so sorry 🥺

request // yes

summary // Reader has been breaking Thomas’ rules by teasing him for days. Thomas eventually is fed up and shows Reader what happens when you disobey.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @bidet-and-legolas @atremendousstrawberrycollection @otaculo @selenophiliaxx

Music, throbbing lights and booze was the way Thomas and his partner decided to spend his weekend off. An average gathering made to feel like a party amongst the closest friends of the band and everyone’s partners. Of course the guitarist couldn’t resist bringing his lover along. He had not seen her in a while, traveling around and working on new music had made the relationship hard for the two of them, things only becoming harder when they started being unsatisfied with their more intimate relationship. The longing did not help much, instead it brought anger and anxiety, both resulting in ruining both of their moods.

The suggestion came from Y/N in the afternoon after Thomas took a break. They were sitting on the couch watching some tv show neither cared for, slowly trying to relax and potentially do more than sitting on the couch. The thought had occurred a few days ago, while the man was still not there, when his lover was maybe watching a bit of an erotic movie. “Maybe we should… switch,” was all she said. No explanation, no details, nothing.

Not much convincing was needed so here they were. Y/N being dominant was finding it a little hard to just sit there and listen. Thus the dom turned into a brat, choosing to tease the man during their first night together.

It was rather simple to get Thomas all riled up this fine night. They happened to have a small fight before the party (a disagreement over minimal things truly) so they were both in a very tense mood while at the party. Thomas was on the one side of the yard, talking with some of his friends, while Y/N was on the other, revealing clothing and lingerie (with certain movements it was visible to the man - and anyone else that paid attention, but not many did). The man was unable to take his eyes off his partner. See, she knew that the result would be pretty good.

“Keep this up and the result will not be very nice for you, amore,” he whispered in her ear when he finally approached her. His hand right above her ass, face too close for comfort.

“I am not sure I want to stop,” said Y/N, an evil smirk decorating her face. Her hips moved side to side, making sure the man could see. Back on her plotting she was.

At first things went smoothly: a bit of seductive dancing, a bit of drinking… The casual. But soon that would change as well. Ethan was sitting on a pool chair, joking about Y/N’s dancing, having a playful back and forth with each other until Y/N sat on his lap. It was nothing unusual for the two, it had happened plenty of times before, but both Thomas and her knew that this time was different.

By now Thomas is fuming. If he was in a cartoon his face would have gone comically red, smoke coming out his face in an exaggerated way. The cigarette and drink in his hand did little to help restrain him. For that, he downed the rest of his drink in an instant, smashing his cigarette on an ashtray and moving to his friends and partner. “Sorry to cut your fun short,” he smiled, trying to keep it together, “but me and Y/N need to go. Honestly, I’m feeling very tired,” he finished, taking Y/N’s hand in his and pulling her up and towards him.

Their friends did not say much, but rather voiced their goodbyes allowing the pair to leave the party.

Getting in the car was now the easy task, but one of them was dreading it. She knew that this would be so fun, but she was undeniably afraid of what could potentially happen that night. “What do you think you have been doing, dolcezza?” He all but growled, roughly turning her face towards his with his hand.

“Me? Nothing. I was just trying to have fun with my friends.” Oh, the innocent act. If Thomas wasn’t hot and bothered (more of the later) already, he certainly was now.

“I don't think so, baby. I think you have been very very naughty. I think you need a punishment.” His tone was playful but his eyes told a different story. Y/N was in for a long night, and they were still in the car. Thomas’ hands had already begun to travel all around his lover, faces dangerously close. And like that the vigorous kissing started.

“You shouldn't have acted like that tonight, amore,” he commented before he started driving back to their shared apartment. The ride was quiet but the tension and anticipation was loud as hell.

Patience was out the window the moment Y/N opened the door to their home. Thomas pushed her to the wall, attacking her neck with kisses. “I warned you enough times, my love, now it’s time for actions,” he commented, hand slowly traveling up to her neck, lightly squeezing, blocking the blood flow lightly making her lightheaded but so much more desperate for him. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall - just like that, good girl! Now, ass perked up.”

She was very well aware of what was about to happen and saying that she did not want it would be a lie. She was rather used to serving spankings to the man whenever he disrespected her - rather lenient - rules, taking such an adrenaline rush every time, but oh did she get a rush now, too. Thomas was getting more and more confident by the minute, Y/N getting rather aroused from it.

Thus she obeyed his demands, pushing her ass back, all there for him to do what he wanted. Thomas quickly got to work moving up her tiny little skirt to have her exposed to his will. Her ass looked amazing in that white lace thong she wore, making the man undeniably hard. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you? You planned for this to happen-” slap, “you knew I would not be able to hold back, didn’t you, puppy?” slap. “Answer me!”

“Yes, daddy,” Y/N responded very timidly, slightly flinching every time he struck her cheeks.

“Good, good. Now count for me, and you will thank me for each slap.”

“One. Thank you, daddy,” she began with his rhythm getting quicker and his force bigger by each slap of his palm. They reached around twenty five before Thomas decided on his next move. He said nothing but roughly turned Y/N around, pulling her towards their shared bedroom, lightly. After closing the door behind him - more out of habit than any actual practical reason- he pushed her to the bed, legs automatically falling open as he stared with lust in his eyes.

“Just sit there and do nothing,” he ordered, “no touching, or there will be consequences.” He did not go far after that, he only undressed and picked up the condoms and the lube, just making sure that she was entirely ready (not that he truly needed it at the moment - just a safety precaution) and knelt in front of his lover.

“Mhm,” he moaned, “you are looking delicious, but I’m not sure you can handle it. Maybe we should do this anoth-”

“No, no! Please, I can handle it! I can handle anything! Please, please!” she exclaimed, or more so whined, making Thomas smirk like a cheshire cat and proceeding with his actions.

“Anything, you say? Hm, we’ll see about that.” Oh boy was she about to regret those words.

His tongue started to tease her immediately as he finished his sentence. It was small short licks and little pecks on her clit, featherly but was agonizing in this case. The pace was slow, timid, really, all in an attempt to show his love in the most painful way possible. Her eyes were shut tightly, mouth hung open releasing heavenly (or rather sinful) noises - a pleasing confirmation of Thomas’ plan working perfectly. Y/N’s back was arched up as her head hung behind, chest bouncing in the attempt to gain more pleasure by Thomas.

“Thommy, please,” she whined, earning a slap on her thigh.

“You are being ungrateful, amore. I shouldn’t be giving you any pleasure at all. You’ll take what you can.” The lack of contact for the few seconds he spoke was enough to cause another fit of whines, but his breath on her heat made far worse ‘damage’.

He wasted no time moving up and away from his disheveled lover, moving to the dresser. Y/N simply sat there, mouth falling open, but this time due to confusion. It was clear that frustration had already started to pick up. Thomas on the other hand was enjoying the situation fully, finding it rather entertaining how he could make her melt so easily.

“Thommy. Come back,” she uttered in her usual dominating tone. Nothing. “Thomas, come back here-”

“What did you just say to me, puppy?” If he was pissed before, now he was livid, and it was clear as day. If this were some weird cartoon his eyes would’ve glowed red - a thought that did not help Y/N’s pleasurable fear. His hand had swiftly reached Y/N’s neck, not tightening up, yet making his stance threatening. “I think you have forgotten how things are going on around here, my love. You are not on the lead right now. I am. And you will pay for that.”

#maneskin imagine #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin #thomas raggi imagine #thomas raggi #thomas raggi smut #måneskin #måneskin headcanon #måneskin x reader #måneskin smut

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seoracle · 4 years ago

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DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame.

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real.

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back.

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist.

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that.

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face.

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.”

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy.

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.”

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!” You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain.

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager).

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind.

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea. “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo.

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu.

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed.

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face.

“Y/N?”

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever.

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.”

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?”

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect.

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat.

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long.

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her.

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.”

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.”

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.”

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop.

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

#i'm sorry in advance #however thoughts are welcomed #skz chan #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz x you #skz x y/n #stray kids blurbs #stray kids scenarios #bang chan angst #stray kids imagines #skz blurbs #stray kids chan x reader #bang chan #bang chan imagines #bang chan blurbs #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you

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brianc521 · 5 years ago

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Holding Her Hand | Raul Mendes

Romanced By Tik Tok

Aaliyah was the first of the Mendes family to know about you and Raul finally getting together. She is an active user of Tik Tok, it’s no secret, so when she got a notification saying that you had posted she’d been your first view.

So with that, she’s been on your side through the idea of filming Raul. She’s actually become your filmer for the day.

Today was family dinner at Mama Karen’s, but it happened to work out that Aaliyah had spent the night at a friend's house. A friend that happened to live blocks away from you. So it just worked best for everyone if you and Raul picked her up and drove her back to the house.

You’d texted her on your way over to get her take on the idea, and responded in seconds. She was filming before she even got in the car.

Raul plays the tough guy card very well. He’s covered in tattoos, piercings, and when he can he drives his motorcycle everywhere. His shirts have holes, rips and tears. You and the lord know he’s very needy though.

When he makes it to the main road after picking Aaliyah up, that’s when you give her a subtle nod that you’re gonna start. She sneakily aims her phone towards your hands.

His hand is resting against your thigh, thumb rubbing back and forth in a soothing manner. He’s actually kind of always done this, even before you were dating. Now though his hand rests a little higher up your thigh, fingers splayed a little deeper into the crevice of your thighs. Much more intimately.

“Hey is Shawn in town?” He asks, looking over his shoulder briefly at Aaliyah, oblivious to her phone.

“No, heard he’s still in Miami recording or something.” Aaliyah shrugs, catching your eye and nodding that he hadn’t seen.

That’s when you pull the first move. You readjust your legs, innocently pushing his hand away. It falls with a thump to the seat and he looks over for a moment. His brows are furrowed and his lips pouted out. He smoothly pulls his hand back, playing it off like he wanted to change hands on the wheel.

A full song passes before he reaches back over, this time slipping his hand into yours, threading your fingers together. He sighs in relief once his hand is settled into yours.

It’s then that Aaliyah really notices how deep Raul is in love with you. She zooms in a little to show that he’s wearing your hair tie on his wrist, and that his thumb is back to rubbing the back of your hand. She zooms back out when you flex your hand, unlocking it from his fingers.

He whines softly, looking back over at you when let go completely letting his hand fall on the seat yet again.

He clears his throat, checking his mirror and seeing Aaliyah on her phone. He wants to ask what’s wrong, but doesn’t, in sake of not starting something in front of her.

He starts humming softly with the music, settling his hand in his own lap.

You have to try so hard not to bust up laughing, he’s so sad, his adorable pout rested firmly on his face.

The song switches, and the soft chords of ‘More Than Words’ starts flowing through the speakers. You silently curse yourself, this was your song.

During your very first high school dance, Raul had pulled you to the dance floor when the third slow song started playing, he couldn’t stand watching the sad look on your face as you realized no one wanted to dance with you. His secret is that he glared at every boy who tried to ask, you were his and he wasn’t watching you with someone else.

Raul looks over with a smile, reaching his hand out and placing it on your thigh, squeezing softly. His rough voice starts crooning along lowly, he’s no Shawn but he can carry a tune. It’s always made you blush when he’s sung to you.

You have to try so hard not to completely melt to his touch. You sigh softly and push his hand off, this time getting the snapping of his head towards you. You’re sitting at a red so he has a moment to stare at you.

“What’s the matter Baby?” He asks softly, hint of a baby voice breaking.

You look at him and shake your head, but when he tries to reach for your hand and you tuck both under your legs he flares his nostrils, tugging your hand anyway.

“Hold my hand.” He whines, no longer caring that his baby sister is in the car. You pull your hand back and interlock it with your other hand, not allowing him the chance to hold either one. “Is it because Aaliyah’s here?” He tilts his head at you. “Because she knows Baby, so we don’t have to hide or anything.”

You just look out the window without responding. You hear him sigh loudly, as he focuses back on the road. There’s still 10 minutes until your arrival at his childhood home and you grumble to yourself because you don’t want him upset.

You look back over at him for a moment when he skips the song, refusing to look over at you. It switches over to ‘Lover’ and you have to fight back a grin as his cheeks tint pink.

The last time he heard this song was when you were in the kitchen the other morning. He’d woken up with you on his chest, hair still messy from the night before. He’d woken you with soft kisses on your neck and collarbone that then lead to slow, deep morning sex.

It had been the most intimate morning he’s ever had, from how you both woke to how you made breakfast together. You were in his Rolling Stones shirt, and since he’d ripped the collar of the shirt it hung off your smooth shoulder, showing off your freckles. He’d put on a playlist he’d made just for you after your confessions. ‘Lover’ had started playing and you serenaded him as he danced you around the kitchen.

He felt so loved, his heart so full in that moment. He never wanted to not feel that way.

So when you started singing along softly he reached back over one more time, forcing you to hold his hand. You tried letting go again and he lost it.

“Can you just hold my hand?” He asked, shaking his head at you. “I’d like for you to hold my hand please.”

You couldn’t help it, you started giggling, followed by Aaliyah laughing in the backseat. She stopped recording and snickered away.

“Why are you laughing?” Raul huffed.

“I was just messing with you.” You muttered, threading your fingers with his, and encasing his hand completely with your other hand as well.

“What?”

“It’s this thing that girls have been doing on Tik Tok.” You shrug.

“What annoying their boyfriends?” He spit out, turning down the road that leads to the Mendes home.

“Seeing their boyfriend's reaction to letting go of their hand while he drives.”

“Well it worked.” He mumbled, parking behind Peter’s Tesla.

“I’ll send it to you once I cut and edit it together.” Aaliyah called, ducking out of the car knowing that Raul needed a moment with the look he was giving you.

You both watched as she made it in the door, and then looked at each other.

“That was mean.” He pouted at you, bottom lip jutted out.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, reaching forward and caressing his face. “I needed something else to post.”

“I still don’t know what a Tik Tok is.” He rolled his gorgeous eyes at you.

“You don’t need to.” You snicker, leaning forward and planting a kiss to his lips.

“I love you.” He sighed as he kissed you back.

“I love you.” You smile, leaning back to hold his face.

“Don’t do that again, especially when those songs play. They mean so much, I thought you were mad or something.”

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anotherknightofren · 4 years ago

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[Kylo Ren] Paralyzed - Chapter One

The sound of windows smashing, the glass shattering along the once clean floors echoed through the empty home as a body tumbled across the floor. Coughing, the middle aged man struggled to push himself to his feet as a figure climbed through the window, clearly in pursuit of him.

“I told you, I-“

A swift kick to the ribs, he spat out blood as his body collided with the wall with a rather loud thud. His grey eyes turned towards the figure as he sat himself against the wall, breathing heavily from the assault.

“You can say whatever you want, but your fate is sealed.”

A strained chuckle came from the man as he held his hand over a section of his torso, grey eyes meeting those of his attacker. “By who? You, a mere woman?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Listen, sweetheart. I don’t have the answers you’re looking for. Whatever they told you, they lied.”

“How do you know they were lies? You think I don’t have the slightest clue as to who you are?”

He chuckled again. “You think I even care about who you are? A mere woman, intent on murdering an innocent man-“ He was cut short as his hand found its way to his throat, all air cut off from him as if someone were strangling him. His eyes widened as he stared at the woman in front of him. Her hand was merely extended, twisting slightly before he felt himself being lifted from the ground and dragged up the wall.

“I’ve killed for less.”

The sound of bones snapping was the only sound before the man’s arm dropped to his side, his head dropping forward. Within a second, his body dropped to the floor all bent over. With a turn of your heel, you climbed back through the window and peered down the street. Someone would’ve heard the commotion by now, but you wondered if they’d care enough to investigate. Pulling the hood of your jacket over your head, you stuffed your hands into your pockets before vanishing into the darkness.

—————————————————————-

“Supreme Leader, you summoned me?”

Snoke looked across the room towards his apprentice, eyes focused on the masked man who knelt before him. “There is a presence in the Force. A dark presence, a young woman shrouded in darkness. I want you to bring her to me. She could prove to be a useful ally to the First Order.”

Kylo Ren looked up from where he knelt, his hidden gaze meeting that of his master’s holographic image before him. “As you wish, Supreme Leader. Where can I find this woman?”

“The Outer Rim, a planet known as Serenno.” He leaned back in his seat, watching the young man in front of him. “Go, seek her out. You know what to do, my young apprentice.”

Kylo stood before he turned on his heel and took his exit. “Prepare my ship.” He commanded to soldiers who were stationed outside. Serenno, of all places for this apparent Force User to be located. He huffed slightly before he continued walking. He would not fail Snoke.

—————————————————————-

As night fell once again, you leaned back against the smooth surface of the wall behind you as your eyes watched the people who kept walking around you. They were oblivious to who you were, what you were capable of, or what had transpired the night before. Oblivious to the fact that with mere effort you could control them, will them to do as you pleased, invade their thoughts and corrupt their minds. A smirk danced across your lips as you let your tongue run over them, your eyes dancing over the faces of your unsuspecting victims.

You had been born to a Force-Sensitive couple, both of which had favoured the Dark Side more than the Light. Their abilities had been passed down to you, training you at a young age before their disappearance shortly after your ninth birthday. You simply assumed that they had been killed somewhere, bodies left abandoned and rotting on some desert planet that you’d probably never heard of. Ever since, you had been on your own. Well, at least you’d done well for yourself the last decade.

“Nice night, huh?”

Your gaze shifted to a young man who stepped from the bar behind you, placing his hands on his hips as he looked towards the sky. “I suppose it is.” You spoke, folding your arms over your chest. “Then again, I suppose it could be better.”

“With clear skies and a perfect view of the stars like this? What could ever make it better than that?” He chuckled as his gaze moved to meet yours. He took you in for a moment before he smiled. “You don’t look old enough to be hanging around this place, you know.”

“Appearances can be deceiving.” You spoke smoothly, your gaze moving from his face to the sky above you. “You never know what lurks just beneath the surface.”

He raised a brow. “And what lurks beneath your surface?”

You let your gaze move to meet his once more. “An untameable monster.” You watched his expression shift before you heard the laughing.

“I’m sorry, please excuse my laughter.” He slowed down to a chuckle, wiping his eyes. “I just find it a bit challenging that a woman like yourself could possibly have a dark side.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Everyone has a dark side, friend.” You looked towards one of the darkened streets. “It lurks there, always hungry and eager to devour everything around me. It needs only ask once before I indulge and let it consume me, succumbing to a feeling that truly makes me feel more alive than anything in all the galaxy.” You licked your lips once more before you met his gaze, watching as he struggled to keep himself from laughing. “You think that I’m joking.”

“Only a bit, miss. You don’t look the type.” He smiled, shifting slightly. “But I won’t go as far as to call you a liar.”

You stepped towards him, placing a hand against his chest. “Would you like me to show you the dark side?” You almost whispered into his ear, staring into the darkness once again with a smirk. You could feel the familiar pull, the warmth it provided.

“Will I be disappointed?” He smirked, moving to place a hand against your hip and cup the side of your face with the other. “I’m not much for disappointment.”

You watched his face, how he searched your own, his eyes locked with yours before you smiled softly. “Not at all, but I cannot promise anything.” You moved towards his ear again, invading his mind with ease. “You will follow me and say nothing unless I tell you.”

“I will follow you and say nothing unless you tell me.” He spoke almost with no hint of humanity behind his voice before he followed you through the streets. When you had stopped, you turned to look at him.

“You will obey every command that I give you.” You watched him repeat the words before you smirked. “You see those people over there? You’re going to kill them all without hesitation and if anyone besides myself tries to stop you, you will kill them as well.”

The man turned from you and within moments you heard the screams fill the air, crying and shouting. The familiar sounds of slaughter filled your ears and you smirked, grabbing a fruit off of a cart next to you before biting into it. Chewing softly, you watched the carnage unfold before you caught a glimpse of something dark flying through the air. You hadn’t seen a ship like that out here before.

”I can sense the darkness, can you?”

Your eyes shot open as you quickly checked your surroundings. The voice had come from somewhere but you saw no one around. You turned your gaze back to the onslaught from your mind controlled friend down the street. Cautiously, you walked towards him and stopped when he turned to face you. “Kill as many people as you can, cause as much of a commotion as you can possibly muster. Do not stop until you are dead.” You issued the final command before you continued walking, the sound of the carnage behind you.

”I know that you are near. I can feel you, the darkness that envelops you. It pulls me towards you.”

Again you turned to glance over your surroundings before you tensed, stuffing your hands into your pocket shortly after pulling your hood over your face. You slipped into the darkness of a nearby alley and remained hidden as you watched the onslaught from a distance. “Whoever you are, I will kill you.”

”Once you hear what I have to say, I don’t think you will.”

You scoffed and slipped further back into the darkness when a figure dressed in black appeared with several stormtroopers. A black mask over his face, a hood pulled over his head, you could sense the Force within him as if it were pulling you in. It was intoxicating, the feeling of darkness that surrounded you in that moment.

”I see you wasted no time in using your powers for entertainment.”

You waited until they were close enough, your hand shooting out from the darkness only to send several of the stormtroopers flying before your hand disappeared into the shadows again. You crouched down, a hidden blade at your side as you slipped further into the blackness when the figure turned towards you.

“Clever girl, but I don’t need them.” He spoke out through the mask, his voice metallic and deep. “Why do you hide in the darkness knowing what you are, who you are?”

“I know the Light seeks to destroy the Dark. You think me a fool to reveal myself so willingly to another with the same powers?” You scoffed, watching him closely. “Why are you looking for me?”

“My Master wishes to speak with you, to offer you a chance to be more than what you are now. He can give you strength, guide you in the ways of the Dark Side.” He didn’t move as he stared into the black. “Come with me, I will take you to him. Should you refuse his proposition, I shall return you home to this.. planet.”

“Your Master? And just who would that be?”

“Supreme Leader Snoke.” He quipped back quickly. “The First Order.”

Your eyes widened slightly before you stood up straight, the blade hidden in your sleeve. “And Snoke sent you to retrieve me? All the way in the Outer Rim?” You chuckled. “How did he know where to find me? Can he truly sense me all the way out here?”

“You underestimate the Supreme Leader. Come with me. You can learn for yourself.”

Keeping the blade hidden, you stepped from the darkness and stared at him, unmoving as the stormtroopers rejoined him. “I could easily kill each and every single one of you. It’s simple.” You spoke nonchalantly. “Except you, princess. You’ll prove to be a challenge, but one I’m willing to test my luck with.”

“I would not advise it. I am a patient man until it’s worn thin. I will ask once more for you to come with me.” He held his hand out for you to take, watching you intensely. “You have so much more potential than you realize. Allow us to help you achieve unlocked powers within you.”

You raised a brow, an uninterested expression on your face. “I heard those words before and the ones who spoke them never returned to fulfill said promises. I trust no one anymore.” You shot forward, your movements quick as you dispatched two of the stormtroopers before you unsheathed the blade and swung around to attack the man.

“You will come with me.” He had caught your wrist and placed a hand against your face, watching as you fell into unconsciousness. Lifting you into his arms, he began his trek back to his ship and the longer trek to return to the First Order.

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star-birthmark · 4 years ago

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Better: Formaggio x Reader x Mista (18+)

To that one anon that asked, “Uwu if you could throw us some more of that juicy formaggio and mista being in love with the same s/o it would be muy greato” It’s finally done, the NSFW part 2 to my Formaggio x Reader x Mista fic . It took me a while, but it is finally done. This is my first not sfw post on this blog, so go easy on me everyone!

CWs: drinking, dirty talk, slight degradation, threesome, slight cucking (lmk If I should add any other tags)

Without further ado: Better (NSFW) (6k words)

You had a strange relationship going within Passione, two men at once. One of them, Mista, a teammate of yours in Bruno’s gang. The other, Formaggio, a supposed “rival” of yours from La Squadra. Though you figured things were going smoothly enough, both men had certain complaints about the arrangement. Formaggio, not content to be your little secret, wanted to claim you for himself and himself alone. Mista, younger than both you and the older mafioso, still felt inadequate against his male companion. One fateful night, the three of you were spending time together, and things soon escalate. Catching you and Formaggio together, Mista embarrassingly asks the older soldato for advice on how to please you... Together, the two of them give you the rough, degrading night that you had long hoped for.

- - -

Formaggio leaned back in his chair, staring up at the night sky. He reached over for the bottle resting on the table nearby, taking a sip of the drink and stared out to his view of Naples. It was his week off, the week Risotto gives all his men, so the assassins can clear their heads from the mafia, and this week happened to be his. He was spending his evening alone sitting on his apartment’s balcony. Trying to forget about work, the young man lounged in a warm red crew neck and sweatpants. It was a perfect night to relax, spend some time unwinding, and mess around with something. Formaggio wiped his mouth after taking a sip and frowned. A perfect night, except that you weren’t there with him. And he missed you, but you were out with Mista that night.

His phone rang from inside the house, and he rushed to pick it up. Prosciutto was on the other end of the line, quick to start speaking, as usual.

“Hey man. I know it’s your week off but the group’s having a poker night. Melone got a little extra from a recent hit and he’s feeling lucky enough to bet it. You in?”

Formaggio shook his head. “Nah… I’m watching the game with (y/n) tonight.”

“Is that Guido guy gonna be there?”

Little Feet’s stand user huffed, not wanting to be reminded of that. “Yeah… he will.”

When Formaggio had initially agreed with Guido Mista that the two of them would “share” you, he didn’t quite realize that agreement’s implications. He hadn’t realized that “sharing” meant you would still be dating Mista, meanwhile he’d be regulated to your secret “side piece”. It was frustrating, especially given the fact that you dated him first, and the fact that he was forced to agree with this arrangement because you’d hate for your precious Capo, Bruno Buccellati, to find out you were in bed with a member of La Squadra. It wasn’t fair. Formaggio had you first, and how he was regulated to the sidelines as your little skeleton in the closet.

The whole situation would be so much easier if he actually hated Mista, then he could just kill him, but he didn’t. Ever since meeting him, the two mafiosos had become incredibly close friends, even going so far as to spend time together without you even being there. They both knew that if it came down to it, they’d be willing to kill each other, but for now, they enjoyed each other’s company. Formaggio wanted to hate Mista so badly, but he couldn’t ignore the smile that came to your face whenever you looked at him while the three of you were hanging out. He supposed he should take it as a compliment, in a sick kind of way. He and Mista were very similar in personality. And since Mista was two years younger than you and Formaggio, the younger soldato often asked the older for advice on how to better survive in the mafia. So perhaps, in that way, Formaggio should feel complimented that you’re so taken by someone so similar to him. But it wasn’t him specifically, though, and that ate him up inside. Formaggio stood up from his chair and got ready to drive over to your place.

He missed you. He missed calling you his. He didn’t like that the only reason he was allowed to sleep with you was that Mista was a chill guy that happened to be cool with it. He was the superior mafioso and he wanted to claim you for himself.

Good thing he’d soon get his chance.

- - - -

The three of you had been planning a night together for a few weeks now. Just a chill night spent together, watching a soccer match, a couple of drinks between you all and nothing intense. Formaggio was finally on his week off from La Squadra, Mista was open for the night and you were just happy to see them both in the same room. You knew perfectly well how odd your situation was, to simultaneously be with two mafia men, one a teammate of yours and the other a supposed “rival”.

But you’ve fallen in love with Mista and fallen back in love with Formaggio, and you were incredibly grateful that the two of them liked each other. The only issue that arose was with the mafia itself. Bruno knew how dangerous La Squadra di Esecuzioni could be, and both you and Mista knew that Bruno shouldn’t find out about your little outings with Formaggio.

Thus, even if the assassin didn’t love the idea, you decided it would be best to continue dating Mista, and Formaggio would be your little secret. Though, you couldn’t help but want it to more than that. The Formaggio you used to date back in the day, paled in comparison to the man that you spent time with now. He was stronger, more confident and assertive, and well… hotter. You could tell how much he hated being your side piece while Mista was your main, but you didn’t want to lose either’s company.

You heard a car horn blast near your building and looked out the window at the sound, seeing Formaggio’s car parked near your front door. Rushing out, you entered the car. Formaggio gave you an up and down and smirked.

“You’re looking good, baby.” You turned over to him with a smile.

“You think so?”

Formaggio grinned, placing a hand on your upper leg and giving you a teasing squeeze there.

“I know so, babe.”

You gave him your own flirtatious giggle. You knew it was odd to have two “boy toys” as Mista called it, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you excited about tonight?” You asked your driving companion, and his hand went further up your leg.

“Yeah… should be fun. Napoli’s playing Roma. Should be an exciting game.”

“Too bad Mista’s rooting for Napoli though… only the smart ones root for Roma.”

“Well you and I grew up together in Roma, dolcezza, don’t forget.”

Formaggio grinned, giving your inner thigh a teasing pinch, before he suavely took your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it romantically. You rolled your eyes at him, slapping him on the arm.

“Nothing funny tonight alright? I just want it to be chill, the three of us.”

You watched as Formaggio’s mood visually soured as he nodded and made a sharp turn onto a new street.

“Yeah yeah, the three of us… Why? Did Mista say he wanted that?”

You look at him confused. “No… I want that.”

Formaggio gave you a quick glance and you soon realized what he meant. You shook your head, giving him an annoyed huff. Why did he have to act like such a baby?

“Oh dio mio, are you still on about this whole thing?”

Formaggio gripped on tighter to the steering wheel. “Yeah… I am. I had you first.”

You gritted your teeth, angry with him. “Oh, you had me first huh? So? Mista was around when you weren’t. Moron, I’m not some object. I’m a human being you know?”

However, your face softened away its annoyance when you saw how genuinely upset Formaggio was, even if he wasn’t showing it outright. You knew he didn’t like being hidden away like this. You sighed, a sad smile on your face.

“Oh… Formi… caro, cuore mio…”

Formaggio gave you a stabbing glance. “Stop it with the pet names (y/n).”

You saw right through that toughness. “You know you still have a special place in my heart amore… No one can change that. This whole thing is just to save face alright? I joined Passione to find you, and Mista was there for me… I thought you were dead. But I still love you too. I love you both…”

Formaggio gulped. “Why can’t you transfer to La Squadra? Your stand would be better used there anyway.”

“Formaggio, you know that’s not how that works. And besides, Mista won’t give me up that easily.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile on your face. Formaggio shook his head, a low chuckle taking over him. He couldn’t stay mad at you, his own emotional Achilles heel. You were just too important to him.

“If I were Mista, I wouldn’t give you up either. I’m not giving up on this though.”

Finally, the car pulled up in front of Mista’s place, the chosen location for the three of you for that night. You often rotated the three apartments for your hangouts, and this night fell on Mista to host. You and Formaggio stopped right before Mista’s front door, the assassin hesitating to knock. Your hands were full from holding things for the night, so you couldn’t knock either. Formaggio looked over his shoulder back at you and you shrugged.

“Formi, knock already will you? My hands are starting to hur-”

Formaggio cut you off by turning to you and planting a deep, passionate kiss on you. You let out a surprised whimper as the young man took your face in his hands. You had expected a normal, quick, loving kiss from him, just a show of affection before keeping it more platonic for the evening. But this was far from sweet and loving, it was needier, more desperate. Formaggio moved his hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush against him. It was almost as if he only wanted you to think of him for that moment. He finally broke the kiss briefly, letting you breathe. You looked up at him, eyes hazy.

“Umm… uh... Dante I-”

Formaggio cut you off again with another kiss, smirking to himself. You only addressed him by his real name when you were super infatuated by his actions. When it felt like you two were back in Rome together, just normal people. He must be doing a real number on you with this kiss. But before you could drop your things and kiss back more forcefully, Formaggio let you go and quickly knocked on Mista’s door, leaving you bright red in the face as you straighten yourself out.

Mista opened the door, incredibly excited to see you two. You’d been gone on a mission for the past week and he hadn’t gotten a chance to spend time with you, and he was antsy about it. Being younger than both you and Formaggio, he felt that he needed to prove himself to you both, given that he was a sort of addition to your already existing relationship, but you kept assuring him that you valued him just as much as anyone else.

Formaggio was the first to walk in, giving Mista a small hug before collapsing onto the couch in front of the TV. The pregame programming was starting and Mista and him were already wearing their jerseys. Mista took your supplies from you, putting them in the fridge before returning to your side, taking your coat from you, and hanging it up. You could tell what was going on, from his jittery movements and him nervously wiping his clammy hands off on his jeans. When he finally went to speak to you, you instead pulled him in, giving the younger member of Bruno’s team a quick peck on the lips.

“Calm down alright?” You said to him sweetly, and he nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a while since anything’s happened between us.”

“I’ve been busy… why? Did you think anything’s going to happen tonight?”

Mista blinked at your overly direct flirt, suddenly getting even more excited. “Do... d-do you want something to happen?”

“Hmm… nope. No funny stuff tonight. I already told Formaggio.”

Mista thought for a moment, relieved. “Thanks… You know I get self-conscious when he’s around with us...”

“And you shouldn’t be. You’re perfectly capable on your own.”

“Yeah but… he’s better than me at um… you know. You know he’s better.”

“Well you’ll get better. I-”

“Can you two stop talking in the doorway and come sit? I can hear you…”

“Yeah, we’re coming Formi! One sec!”

Mista turned away from you at the sound of the other man’s voice while you shouted to him. Mista was always more nervous whenever he was around both you and Formaggio. He felt he had at least some form of superiority over you, given that he’d been part of Bruno’s gang longer, even if you were older than him. But he always felt inferior to Formaggio in one way or another. Mista had had a few nights alone with you, but when he asked you straightforwardly if he was as good at pleasing you as Formaggio was, you couldn’t help but say that Formaggio was still better, not wanting to lie to your teammate. Such honesty definitely bruised his ego, but Mista was still going to try to hold his ground in this odd relationship. He owed that to himself.

“Alright… let’s go other there.” You instructed Mista before giving him a longer kiss. You chuckled as the other’s face became bright red.

“I uh… umm... I… okay, (y/n).”

“Aww… you’re so cute, caro.” You teasingly ruffled Mista’s hair and he followed you to the couch happily.

The three of you sat together on the couch, getting ready for the game to start. Mista was quick to open three beers, one for each of you, and the drinks were soon knocked back. You rested your head on Mista’s shoulder to make him feel less nervous, running your hand up and down the other’s chest. Formaggio felt a bit annoyed at the display but decided not to do anything about it.

The soccer match soon began, the three of you too preoccupied with the excitement of the game to notice just how many of the beers you had already emptied. All three of you were starting to get rather buzzed by the time the second half of the game was coming to a close. Roma was beating Napoli three goals to two, and Formaggio was having the time of his life drunkenly making fun of Mista for his soccer team preferences. You were enjoying your time with them both, going from resting your head on Mista’s shoulder, to laying against Formaggio’s chest, to having Mista’s head resting in your lap, to snuggling back into Formaggio’s arms.

By the end of the game, you had already lost your inhibitions enough to be sitting in Formaggio’s lap, giggling to yourself while playing with Mista’s hair as he sat nearby. Formaggio kept his hands on your hips while still watching the last remaining minutes of the game, though whenever your attention would stray from him, he would grip onto your hips tightly, leading you to gasp just a bit. Mista felt emboldened enough by his drunken state to kiss you while you were still in the other’s lap, and you were more than willing to indulge him, both of you lightheaded as you kissed him back roughly. Formaggio looked up at the two of you, his face flushed red. The act of seeing you make out with someone else, especially Mista, was strangely hotter than he’d like to admit, though that could have very well been the alcohol talking.

None of you were watching the game anymore. None of you were thinking normally, you were all getting far too comfortable with each other, and the night was still young. It was a recipe for disaster.

When the game finally ended, Roma beating Napoli, you and Formaggio celebrated, meanwhile Mista went off to his room to change out of his jersey, wanting to forget the game ever existed. Formaggio watched Mista walk down the hallway out of sight, before turning to you. You turned around to make eye contact with him, still in his lap, both of you lightheaded from cheering and drinking.

Ceasing this opportunity for alone time, Formaggio eyed you up and down, enjoying what he was seeing. “Hey there bambina… Come here.”

With that, the mafioso leaned into you and began placing slow but meaningful kisses all over your neck and jaw, his hands still gripping onto your hips tightly. You looked down at him, knowing he should stop, but also not really wanting him to. You bit your lip, looking around the living room for any signs that Mista had come back from his room. There were none.

“Wait what if Mista comes back?”

“Let him. Who cares? He’s probably thinking the same thing I am.”

Your attention was soon commanded by a telephone ringing, the sound coming from Mista’s room. You heard the other male go to pick it up, greeting Bruno who was at the other end. It seemed that Mista would be gone for a bit.

You let out a small hum as Formaggio’s hands moved up and down your back. Looking down at him, Formaggio glanced back up at you, his green eyes squinting in his own unique form of mischief, even if his lips didn’t leave from your neck until he was sure he had just left a deep, blood-red mark there. Formaggio gently ran his thumb over the hickey, a toothy grin coming over his face.

“I wonder where else I can put one of these...”

Your face flushed red at such a comment, assisted by all the alcohol in your system. You felt your desire for him begin to grow larger in the pit of your stomach. You promised both him and Mista that there wouldn’t be anything that night, but you were quickly throwing that promise out the window. Turning around so your chest faced his, you leaned down and took matters into your own hands by kissing the assassin before he could tease you about your broken vow for the night. Formaggio chuckled against you, kissing you back with fervor while his hands went back down to your hips to gently work your body back and forth over his lap. You let out a small whimper into his ear and Formaggio couldn’t help but groan at the erotic sound. He turned to you, no longer smiling. Instead, a look of quiet awe swept over him, the same way it did every time you two slept together. Like he couldn’t believe you were real. That you were his. At least partially.

“Are you okay with this?”

He asked, his hands still gripping onto you. You answered him by kissing his neck the same way he did to you and at the same time, moving your hips over him without him needing to guide you. Your lips left him for a second and you muttered a shy, “yes.”

The sound of your voice, combined with you moving over the growing tent in his pants got Formaggio going faster than he’d realized, muttering huskily to himself, “Now that’s the spirit…”

Knowing you wanted it, his hands began to roam, one moving underneath your shirt to feel you up through your bra, and the other moving to roughly pinch your ass. You flinched forward with a high pitched squeal, subconsciously jolting your hips forward with one harsh movement over his pants, and causing you to moan, and for Formaggio to let out a growl deep in his throat.

He looked up at you, his lip swollen from your kissing and from biting on it.

He smiled. “You wanna do that again tesoro?” You remained silent for a moment before shyly nodding.

His hand went to your ass again, this time giving it a teasing smack, causing you to jolt forward again, much to the pleasure of both of you. Seeing that your partner was encouraging you, you kept your hips moving at the same rough pace, meanwhile, your lips returned to his, both of you getting lost in each other. You couldn’t stay mad at him, no matter how much he provoked you. Your bodily desires began to dominate your thoughts and before long, both of your shirts and your bra had been thrown to the other end of the couch and you were still grinding on him. Formaggio regained his focus when the two of you broke your kiss, eyes blown out in pleasure.

You leaned back to give him a full view of your chest, prompting the man to gasp out a desperate, “Oh my god…”

Enjoying his view, Formaggio took it one step further, now latching his hot mouth onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting at the tender bud. Your mouth hung open as soft moans poured out, your hands gently running through the other’s red hair.

The two of you were becoming impatient. With one last peck on the lips, you got off of your lover’s lap and both of you hurriedly slipped off your respective pants.

Formaggio chuckled, bringing his experienced hands up to your hips to pull you back to him. “Who gave you the right to be this sexy?”

You giggled a bit at his flirting. “I’d ask you the same.”

“Are you ready? I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

You chuckled as you climbed back into his lap, resting your knees at either side of his legs to raise yourself so his face was at eye level with your chest. Getting the hint, Formaggio snaked his hand down in between your legs and placed a confident hand over your clothed pussy. You let out a small gasp, and your knees almost gave out from how sensitive you had become. Formaggio ran his thumb over your covered clit, and you gripped onto the back of the couch in order to not fall forward. Your own hand came down to stroke along your partner’s cock through his boxers, squeezing a bit just where you’d remembered he was most sensitive.

Formaggio let out a loud groan at that and bit his lip to silence himself. “You alright babe?” He asked softly, placing more pressure on the swollen bud.

You smiled. “I should be asking you.”

“Are you alright though?” He asked again, rubbing your clit a little harder.

You nodded after letting out a moan. “Y-yeah… just really wet…”

Formaggio tugged the last remaining cloth off of you, your sensitive heat now exposed to the cold air. Formaggio marveled at how wet you were, bringing a hand up to rub little circles around your clit once more.

“Yeah… you’re ready.”

It wasn’t long until you both gave in. With a quick motion, Formaggio tugged off his boxers, releasing his hardened cock. Leaning in to give him a deep kiss, your hands came down and gave the length a few tentative strokes before you leaned forward, lining up his head with your entrance. Formaggio groaned feeling your wet warmth seep over him, taking his cock in hand and rubbing its tip with your sensitive slit. You shook desperately at the teasing, your hands coming to Formaggio’s shoulders and gripping tightly. Taking the hint to finally give in, Formaggio aligns himself with your hole. You let out a loud gasp as he sunk your hips down to meet with his until he was finally bottomed out inside of you. You hissed at the brief feeling of discomfort before your hips began to instinctively move up and down to provide sweet friction between you two. You rested your head on Formaggio’s shoulder as your hips worked his cock up and down, your walls squeezing at the head for extra intensity.

“Mmm… yeah… keep going just like that dear. Oh fuck you’re so tight. You’re so good for me baby.”

Formaggio kept his hands tightly gripping onto your hips as he helped you moved along his shaft, the young man getting more and more turned on by the lustful moans leaving you for him to hear.

You could stay there forever, being this close to him, in complete bliss. It felt so good. So right. But your drunken mind had forgotten one important thing. Or well… person.

Without either of you noticing, the door to Mista’s bedroom opened, the younger man walking out, starting to talk to you.

“Hey (y/n), sorry I was in my room for so long. Fugo had called to talk about a mission next week and it took a long time cause I’m drunk and I can’t really think straight you… know…”

Mista looked up to see you and Formaggio together on his couch, the other man’s back facing him, both of you lost in pleasure and enjoying each other’s company. Hearing the sounds escaping your lips, Mista got the idea of what the two of you were doing, but he didn’t have any idea what he should do about it. He didn’t have to think long however when you glanced up and saw him in standing there, watching you and Formaggio fuck. You stiffened, stopping your hips movements and covering up your chest with your arms.

Formaggio charmingly asked, “what’s wrong sweetie? Was is feeling too good-wait what?” He snickered before turning around to where you were looking to see Mista as well, muttering an understanding “oh.”

Quickly sobering up, you tried to leave Formaggio’s lap, only to find his strong grip was holding you down onto his cock. You looked over at Mista, unable to meet his gaze, embarrassed that you were still moaning slightly at the pleasurable contact.

“Mista I’m so sorry I um… I know I promised you I wouldn’t do anything with Formi tonight but um… I’m sorry. And I’ll make it up to you I-”

“Can I join you?”

Both you and Formaggio were understandably surprised at such words, both turning to the younger stand user curiously. The thought caused you to grow in arousal even further. “Join us?” You asked.

He walked over to you two, still joined together, and sat nearby on the couch. You glanced down to see that the other man had already become hard in mere moments. Mista glanced up at you, his hand slowly going to stroke his own length through the fabric of his pants.

“Yeah… I figure I could get better at fucking you if I learn from him, (y/n). Plus… it’s kinda hot.”

Reaching over, Mista placed a tentative hand on one of your bare tits, the other hand more roughly stroking himself. You watched as Mista’s face grew bright red in embarrassment and desperation. You got the sense that he’s had the idea of joining you and Formaggio for a while now. Speaking of which, Formaggio soon took you out of your drunken thoughts by cackling loudly at what Mista was proposing. All three of you lacked common sense after a night of drinks, and it had already begun to show.

“So you think I’m better than you huh? Alright, fine.”

Formaggio looked Mista up and down, the assassin’s confidence boring a hole into the young man’s embarrassment. Mista sighed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah. I do.” He muttered shyly.

You sighed. “Or… you two could share me.”

The two men looked at each other, a smile on each of their faces. A smile came to you, leaning down to grasp Mista’s face in one hand, meeting your lips with his. The other hand brought Formaggio’s mouth to your tits. He soon figured what you wanted and resumed his ministrations there, biting and sucking at your sensitive skin.

Mista hungrily leaned into your touch, bringing the kiss deeper as his tongue intertwined with yours. The noises leaving him signaled that he was already hard enough to take you, but Formaggio was having none of that.

He placed a strong hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Sit down Mista. I’ll teach you a few pointers, but I’m going first.” He growled before grabbing your chin in one hand to pry you two apart, taking your lips for his own. Mista sat back and watched the two lovers return to their previous passions before he so rudely interrupted them. Too desperate to remain in his clothes, Mista stripped down and sat next to you on the couch, his hand going down his body to start stroking his already sensitive cock.

It didn’t take much to get Guido Mista going. The fact that he wasn’t the most experienced sexually didn’t help his case either. Just one sight of you getting fucked by someone obviously more adept than him, had his cock twitching and beginning to leak precum.

Formaggio, amidst his rough pounding of your body, eyed the other’s member, seeing how turned on he was. It gave him quite the ego boost to have the younger soldato realize that you belonged to him, the man fucking you in that moment instead of the boy pathetically watching.

Mista wanted to learn from him on how to please you.

Formaggio’s hips sped up further, the pressure in his lower half building ever closer to his release. He watched your face twist in euphoria, until an idea came to him. His hand came behind you, and in a swift motion, he slapped down hard on your ass in a loud spanking. You moaned loudly at the slap before Formaggio took your cheeks in his hand again and turned you to face Mista, who was still jacking off at the sight of you two.

“Go on dolcezza, tell Guido how good it feels for me to fuck you.”

Mista groaned at such words. He didn’t know why getting cucked like this by Formaggio did so much to him. All three of you were into it, but no one knew why.

Formaggio spanked you again, harder this time. “Go on sweetie, tell him. Tell him how much you also like it when I spank you.”

You whimpered as Formaggio lifted you up higher to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Oh god. It feels so good, he fills me so well ugh…”

Formaggio spanked you again. “Is he better than me?”

You bit down hard on your lip, too embarrassed to say. One last strike on your ass caused you to blurt out, “no… you’re better Formi!”

Mista hissed after hearing you say that, reaching his first climax, his cum running down his hand, yet his member remained hard all the same. You grabbed his hand away from his length, leaving him trembling. Making eye contact with him, you brought his hand to your mouth, sucking and licking the cum off his fingers, an act that had both men groaning in needy desire for you. Formaggio bit onto his lip hard. His cock was reaching its peak. Hurriedly, he let go of his tight grip on your hips.

“Get off (y/n). I wanna cum in your mouth.”

You quickly get off of his lap, kneeling in front of him on the floor. You were about to suck him off before he spoke again.

“Aww come on dear. Don’t you think you should help Mista too? Don’t be selfish, baby, he should find out how much you love being taken from behind…”

He grinned and Mista let out a moan, his hand already working up to his second orgasm. You smiled, sharing a knowing look with the assassin before you climbed onto the couch on all fours and began to blow him. Mista brought his hand up to your dripping heat, and ran a nervous finger over your aching clit, causing you to moan around the other man’s cock. You focused on your attention on the blow job, bobbing your head up and down the long shaft. Mista hesitated to move forward into you, wondering if he should ask for what to do.

Formaggio rolled his eyes at the other’s nerves. “Just take her already, man. She’s a big girl, she can take it.”

He teased, prompting Mista to get on his knees, lining his rod with your gaping hole. You were feeling too empty after Formaggio had pulled out, a problem Mista was about to fix.

In one quick motion, Mista plunged into you and you gasped, stopping your blow job for a moment. Mista wasn’t as long as Formaggio, but oh god was he thicker. It felt so good to have him inside you. He started off with slow, shallow thrusts, nervous that he might hurt you or that you didn’t like what he was doing. Of course, he was wrong. One harder thrust already had you losing your mind on his cock.

“Oh god… Mista.”

You whimpered before Formaggio grabbed a fistful of your hair and brought you down on his cock, its tip reaching the back of your throat.

“Pay attention to me baby, keep blowing me. I’ll teach Mista how to fuck you right.”

Humming in pleasure as you continued using your mouth on him, Formaggio leaned back, his body slick with sweat from your efforts. Both men were lost in pleasure over how incredible you made them feel. Still, the two of them were nothing if not troublemakers.

“Hey Mista, enough of this pathetic ‘love-making’ shit. You gotta do better than that. Hasn’t (y/n) told you how much she likes it rough?”

He grinned, keeping your head down as he rammed his length in and out of your mouth, gagging you slightly. It wasn’t long until, with one final thrust, the assassin reached his limit and came down your throat. You choked a bit, but managed to swallow it all down. Formaggio let go of your hair, brushing it out of your pretty, blushing face. He didn’t realize how much he’d fallen back in love with you. You were so good for him.

Formaggio smiled, still panting. “Oh god… I love you baby. Come here.”

He pulled you forward, giving you a brief kiss before you broke the contact with a moan at one of Mista’s particularly hard movements. Mista, having seen how rough the other man was handling you, threw his hesitation out the window and began to pound you even faster. Formaggio reveled in your elated expression at the quickened pace and decided to kick it up a notch.

“Hey Mista, has (y/n) ever told you how much she loved having her hair pulled?”

Formaggio joked breathlessly, still recovering slightly from his huge orgasm. Mista looked down at your moaning form as you bounced desperately on his cock, an overconfidence smirk coming to him at his new found arrogance.

“No ‘Formi’, I don’t think she has!”

He teased back, grabbing your hair in one hand and pulling it back to fuck you even harder than before. Your head came back and Mista leaned forward to make eye contact with you as he ground his hips against yours. Both of you felt your orgasms approaching.

Formaggio a little embarrassed at Mista using his pet name, nonetheless, turned to you in confidence. “Does it feel good baby? Do you like his dick?”

“Y-yeah… it feels so good.” You managed to moan out.

“Are you gonna cum from him fucking you, baby?”

“Y-yeah…”

Formaggio reached down, a practiced finger moving to rub directly on your clit. The action brought you over the edge, and soon you let out a loud gasp as your climax washed over you, causing your whole form to tremble in jubilation. Feeling your walls clench down on his length, Mista reached his end soon after, pulling out and cumming all over your back.

Formaggio set you down gently on the couch while Mista came to his senses, the three of you all panting in the thick, musky air of the apartment. You were the first to speak.

“Oh my god… that was incredible you two.”

You giggled. You tried standing up to get dressed, your legs failing you after your intense climax. Formaggio caught your fall, and you shyly thanked him.

“Umm… we should do that again sometime…”

The prospect caused the two light headed men to look at each other in shock. “Really? You wanna?!”

You grinned mischievously and each of them remembered why they fell in love with you. You were just as nuts as they were.

“Yeah, are you kidding? A girl can’t just pass up another night with her two boyfriends.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow at the last part. “Two boyfriends huh? I thought I was just the side piece.”

You chuckled, finally finding enough strength to stand up over them.

“I’ll keep you around for more caro. I love you too much not to. Both of you. Now... I feel gross. Which one of you boys wants to join me in the shower?”

Both Mista and Formaggio looked at you in shock at your crude words, watching you head down the hall. Mista turned to Formaggio.

“How’d we get so lucky?”

“You mean how’d I get so lucky? I had her first…”

Mista rolled his eyes. “Alright stronzo, how’d you get so lucky?”

Formaggio thought for a moment, realizing how incredible you really were. “I don’t even know…”

With that, the two of them shared a grin and rushed down the hall as well to head to where you were. The fun was only beginning for that night.

#jjba #not sfw #jjba writing #formaggio #guido mista #part 5 #Vento Aureo #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #la squadra #bruno's gang #long fic #fem reader #cw drinking #cw dirty talk #cw degradation #cw cucking

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

We’re the Bad Guys: Part 6

Masterlist

Poe Dameron x Reader (eventually), First Order!Reader

Summary: From the day you were born, you were taught the rebels and their New Republic were the bad guys. But, after you crash land on a remote moon with only the Resistance’s poster boy for company, things begin the change.

Based off of this drabble and headcanon

A/N: Hey! Guess who finally got around to the next chapter. Sorry to say no Poe. He won’t be back until Part 8, but I promise he’s coming. And always remember; REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Word Count: 3.0

The next three weeks were the longest of your life. You hadn’t realized just how integral your ship was to your daily routine until you couldn’t fly anymore. What you would have given just to look at the inside of a Tie-Fighter engine. What you would have given just to sit in the cockpit. But, orders were orders.

You were all but confined to quarters, spending your days approving shipments, scheduling repairs and staring at the ceiling. Hux hadn’t ordered any new attacks or changes in patrol. You almost wished the Resistance would attack. At least it would be a change of pace.

Even the Stormtrooper assigned to assist you had become a near constant reminder of your utter boredom. You knew it was standard for an officer of your rank to have an aid, but you had gone so many years without one, you didn’t know what to do with him. All he really could do was stand there and occasionally help you to and from the hanger bay. You would have thought Hux would take advantage of the situation and give you a new up and coming officer to train, but he had insisted one of his Stormtroopers was enough for your needs.

“There is nothing in your assignment which would warrant wasting integral personal”, as he had eloquently put it.

You couldn’t completely dismiss the general’s reasoning. But at least with an officer you might have been able to talk flight tactics or even just the daily grind. The trooper gave you nothing to work with. All you had managed to get out of him was “yes”, “no”, and “sorry”, usually in that order.

The one relief you could find was in the computer archives. You poured what hours you could into researching and understanding the Resistance pilots attached to Black Squadron led by Commander Poe Dameron.

For obvious reasons his history after graduating and joining the Resistance were sparse and relied on reports from First Order officers and informants. His life before then, however, was all but public knowledge.

He hadn’t lied to you when he said his parents were soldiers for the Rebellion. In fact, it may have been considered an understatement. Both were awarded for their bravery, his mother receiving special commendation from General Organa herself. It explained his devotion and the burden the ring placed around his neck carried.

You had to wonder why. Why did he so willingly carry it with him? And the only conclusion you could come to was he chose to carry it. He chose to join the Republic academy. He chose legacy over glory and joined the Resistance where the only reward would be the ensuring the victory his parents fought to achieve. It was his decision; plain and simple.

And where did that leave you?

You didn’t choose to fight. Your parents were the ones to place you in the academy. They placed their legacy on you, not as a token you could take on or off, but an invisible force pressing you into submission. And what was your reward? The hope of victory in the face of your parents' defeat? There had to be more. You had to have dedicated your life to something more.

But like so many of your questions, you only had yourself to answer to. It was a slow moving circle, spiraling down to a conclusion you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

A knock on the door came as a relief as your trooper stepped into the room.

“General Hux wishes to see you in his office, Commander,” he said. His tone was nervous as if he weren’t sure he was allowed to give you any kind of order, regardless of where it came from.

Your lip pressed into a line of annoyance. You couldn’t imagine what General Hux would want with you, but it couldn’t be anything good. Regardless, you reached for your cane and started making the arduous trek to his office with your trooper in tow.

You finally reached the door, a little uncomfortable, but not in serious pain. Your trooper had offered his arm more than once. You had been tempted to take it, but you weren’t on a remote moon anymore. Any such assistance would be seen as a weakness. Maybe that was why Hux had assigned him to you. A test of your resolve.

“You best wait outside,” you said. “I wouldn’t want you caught in the middle of whatever firestorm is coming.”

The trooper’s shoulders relaxed in instant relief. “Yes, Commander.”

You nodded in approval and walked inside.

The General’s office was impressive, but not in the way one would expect. There were no elaborate paintings, statues or anything of note decorating the walls save for the occasional star map. The room was large with a high ceiling allowing one’s footsteps to echo in the empty space. The furniture was sparse, but strategically placed to focus one’s eyeline to the desk at the very center of the room and the man behind it.

General Hux sat up straight with his hand folded carefully on the desk. The back of his chair rose high above him, given the illusion to the throne he so clearly wanted. The edges were elaborately decorated with silver and gold flaked carvings, glistening what light they could in the dimly lit room. If there was ever a doubt in one’s mind to his ambition, the chair was all they needed to silence them.

But for all his strategy, his face was not what captured your attention. Standing just to his left was the towering figure of Commander Kylo Ren.

Your back involuntarily stiffened, but you did not faluter your steps as you approached the desk.

You had only been in the same room as Kylo Ren a handful of times, and talked to him even less, but it was all you needed. You knew his reputation as leader of the Knights of Ren. You understood his standing with Supreme Leader Snoke. And more importantly, you knew exactly what he was capable of.

Your eyes trailed down, landing on the hilt of his lightsaber.

Taking a small breath, you let it out slowly, willing your mind to calm. You just needed to remain calm.

“General Hux,” you greeted, formally. “Commander Ren. I was told you wished to speak with me.”

“Yes,” Hux said. “Please, have a seat.”

You glanced down at the seat in front of his desk. It was sturdy, simple and more importantly sat at least three inches below the General’s own chair.

“I’d rather stand, sir,” you said, placing just enough apology in your voice to prevent him from formally reprimanding you. “I’ve been sitting so long; I need what opportunities I can get to stretch my legs.”

Hux’s lips pressed into a fine line. “As you will, Commander.”

He looked away from you then, making a show of going through the notes on his data pad as he did so.

“You seem to be recovering rather well. I understand you will be fit for command within a week.”

“That is what the droids have told me, sir.”

“And you have taken no leave since your injury?”

“No, sir. From what I understand, an injury does not relieve me of my duties.”

“But, you have had time to look into a certain Resistance pilot,” Hux said, turning his head upward to look into your eyes as he said it. “Is that correct?”

You felt your jaw tighten. So, there it was. “Yes, sir.”

He opened his hands upward, giving you an almost innocent expression. “May I ask why?”

Your eyes flickered to Kylo Ren. He made no move one way or the other, but you could feel his eyes on you. Once again, you allowed yourself a moment to clear your mind.

You had been trained for this exact moment. After the fall of the Emperor at the hands of Luke Skywalker, many formal Imperials grew fearful at the potential onslaught of Jedi. Training against force users became part of your daily study. Teräs Käsi was integrated into your combat training as well as other techniques developed by Sith and Mandalorian alike. But more importantly, exercises to strengthen your mind from attack and influence were prioritized above all else.

Kylo Ren was not about to get inside your mind unless he was willing to kick down the door.

“I don’t get shot down that often,” you answered, simply. “I was curious as to the identity of the pilot who managed it.”

“And your findings?” Hux asked.

“I understand him to be Commander Poe Dameron, former Captain of the New Republic Fleet. A brilliant pilot according to his academy records, and a regular thorn in my squadron’s side for some time.”

“Indeed,” Hux said. “Which begs the question, why now?”

He was staring at you intently and you could feel just the slightest throb of pressure inside your skull. Now was the moment.

“I made the mistake of underestimating my enemy once,” you said, smoothly. “I will not do so again.”

Hux’s eyes never left you, but the pressure dissipated. You didn’t take look in Kylo Ren’s direction, but the fact he hadn’t reached for his lightsaber spoke volumes.

“Is there a point to this interrogation, sir,” you asked, bluntly.

The General raised an eyebrow. “Who said it was an interrogation?”

“Pardon me, sir, but I wasn’t addressing you.” You then straightened, and purposefully drew your eye directly to Kylo Ren. “Is there a purpose to this?”

If the Commander was surprised, he didn’t show it. But then again, he couldn't show much with his mask on.

“General Hux was discontent with your report,” he said, simply but with just enough annoyance to make his disdain clear.

“Were there inconsistencies I need to account for?” you asked.

“None,” Ren answered.

You felt some relief at that. You hadn’t been dishonest. Rather, you had left out certain things, such as Dameron pulling you from the ship, sharing his food, and basically anything else regarding his involvement. According to your report, you were unconscious for the first day and only came to after Poe had been taken off world. The rest was entirely accurate.

“Then it’s the truth the General takes issues with,” you said, dryly.

“Watch your tone Commander,” Hux spat. “You forget who your superiors are.”

“Show me a superior and I’ll remember,” you countered.

Hux rose from his chair then, red faced and fuming.

Your lip twitched upward in satisfaction. Finally, something honest.

“I do not appreciate games, sir,” you continued. “Unlike you, I face my enemies in the open. Did you hope to catch me in a lie? To pin me as a spy or incompetent to justify you leaving me behind to rot? You will have satisfaction in neither. You made a mistake and now you must deal with the consequences.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, stepping toward you until you stood practically foot to foot. “You are a Tie-Fighter Commander. I could replace you with any officer of your rank within a week. Officers with much more important names than your own. The only reason I haven’t is that there are those who deem your skills as a pilot above average, but do not think for a moment you are secure.”

“Well, if I’m so easily replaceable, then what was the point of all this?” you said, barely able to control the growl between your teeth.

“Call it a test of loyalty,” Hux said, smoothly. “One which you have failed. If you were truly loyal to the First Order you would not have questioned why you were not rescued. Instead you gave a report questioning my actions and possess a bitterness I personally find distasteful. I hope for your sake you strive to correct such actions in the future.”

And there it was; pettiness. You had made him look bad by living and now he was going to give you hell. All you had done; all the blood, sweat and tears you had given to the First Order, swept away because one man couldn’t admit a mistake.

You wanted to scream, but held it in. Hux was just looking for an excuse to demote you. You would not give him the satisfaction. So, you took a breath and let it out slowly.

“Yes, sir.”

Hux twitched upward in a smug smile. “You are dismissed, Commander.”

You straightened then, giving him a quick salute and turned to leave.

“One more thing, Commander,” he called. “I thought you ought to know, your squadron has been sent to reconditioning.”

You spun back around, unable to hide your surprise. “Sir?”

“They had reported you dead,” he clarified. “I would not wish pilots like that under my command. Would you?”

Your hand tightened around the top of your cane. It wouldn’t take much effort. Just a few steps and a quick wave of the arm and his head could turn into a mess of red slop. But once again, you kept still.

“No,” you managed. “Thank you, sir.”

You did not wait for a dismissal, before turning once again and walking out the door.

Your trooper didn’t say anything as the pair of you made your way back to your quarters, to which you were thankful.

Hux had to have been bluffing. There was no way you were as replaceable as he implied, but it nagged at you even worse than the first night you returned to the Finalizer. Again the question you had been avoiding came back begging to be answered; what were you fighting for?

It occurred to you then you weren’t even that affected by your squadron being sent away. Yes, you were angry, but more at Hux’s clear manipulation of the system to place blame away from himself. The men and women you had fought alongside weren’t people. They were numbers. A line of identical helmets with nothing behind the eyes. They were like you; replaceable.

The door to your quarters opened. It was only when you stepped inside did you realize just how badly your leg was aching.

“Trooper,” you said. “Could you assist me to the chair, please.”

The Stormtrooper stiffened in surprise, but was quick to help you; placing a hand on your waist and supporting you to the chair. For a brief moment you thought of a different hand on your waist and the smell of clear forest air. But, it didn’t last as he placed you in your seat.

“What’s your name, trooper?” you asked, suddenly.

The Stormtrooper once again stiffened. “Sir?”

“You’ve been by my side for three weeks,” you clarified. “It just occurred to me, I don’t remember your name.”

“Oh,” he said, awkwardly. “I’m FN-2187.”

You nodded. “Alright, FN-2187, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Commander.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

There was a long awkward pause. You couldn’t get much with his helmet on, but his body language was enough to scream just how much he did not want to answer the question.

“I won’t be offended by your answer,” you said, giving what you hoped was an assuring smile.

He looked at you carefully, his weight shifting from side to side in deliberation.

“Yes,” he said. “Well, you did, but no. Not so much now.”

“And what do you think of me now?”

Again he paused.

“I don’t know, sir.”

Again, you nodded. “And your other commanding officers. Are you afraid of them?”

His head tilted from side to side. “Yes and no.”

“Meaning some you’re afraid of some and others you respect?”

“No,” he said, carefully. “I’m not sure if respect is the right word.”

“Meaning you’re afraid of some more than others.”

There was a silence. It was answer enough.

“And of your fellow troopers,” you continued. “Are there any you respect or would call a friend?”

“None that come to mind, Commander.” His toned was rather matter-of-fact, and that somehow made it worse.

“Not even the ones you trained with?”

He shook his head. “No sir, I don’t know where they are. We were separated after our initial conditioning was complete. It’s protocol.”

“Protocol?” you repeated. Yes, you suppose that makes sense. Less chance to rebel against the programming and isolate those that do. Incredibly efficient and utterly inhuman.

“So, if you have no commanding officer you admire or comrades in arms, what is it that you fight for?”

“The First Order, sir.” It was said quickly, automatically, and well practiced.

“Of course,” you said, unable to say anything else. What else were you fighting for, but the First Order. Whatever that was. “Thank you for your honesty, FN-2187. You’re dismissed.”

He gave the standard salute, but made no move to leave, once again shifting his weight uneasily from side to side.

“Uh, Commander?” he asked, tentatively. “Is there...is there something I can do for you?”

You stared at him. A sudden feeling came over you, something warm and comforting right in your chest. It was pleasant, if not a little alien and left a small smile on your lips. And in that moment, you made your choice.

“No. Thank you,” you said, gently. “You’ve given me a good deal to think about. Although, you might need to find a new assignment. I will be taking the next few days off.”

“You’re taking leave, Commander?” he questioned.

You shrugged. “Might as well. There isn’t much else going on, and I doubt I’ll be given another opportunity short of death after this. Not to mention you’ll finally be allowed a more interesting assignment.”

“It’s not so bad, sir,” FN-2187 said, sheepishly. “Better than sanitation duty, anyway.”

You gave a small chuckle at that. “Fair enough. You’re dismissed Trooper. And thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgement and left.

The moment the door closed, you opened your computer and pulled an empty data stick from the drawer. You had a lot of work to do.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe x reader #poe #star wars imagine #star wars #general hux #kylo ren #the force awakens #the last jedi #the rise of skywalker

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bonesaldente · 4 years ago

Text

Caliginous I Darth Maul x Reader

Chapter 2: The Job

A/N: There will be more of Maul starting at chapter 3, I promise :)

(you can read this on ao3 here)

read the last chapter here

words: 2400+

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Galenos Tallav is an absolute dirtbag. He is human scum, just like his father before him. As the leader of the Ravengarde, he makes his money off spice, mining, and slaves . Most of the women under him have to do unspeakable things for their survival if they don’t want to face his wrath. Some of them have been born into slavery, some of them are kidnapped from their home planet and brought here, to Kessel, where their families can’t find them anymore. It is a cruel fate, which you hope to change by ending the disgusting man’s poor excuse for a life.

In a way, you’re thankful to have been given this opportunity.

What you have been able to gather over the course of one and a half days is that he has two personal guards that follow him almost everywhere. One of them looks like he could rip a boulder apart with his two hands and crush a man’s skull between his thumb and index finger; the other one is not quite as big, but seems to have a fair knowledge of martial arts and appears to be a little quicker on his feet. He is the one you are worried about.

As for his house, they have upped security by quite a bit since you were there four years ago on your own vendetta. After the murder of his father Lycus, Galenos must have decided his own safety was worth investing in. Now, multiple heavily armed guards adorn the front door, droids patrol the inside, and holocams scan every move that goes on both inside and outside. It was hard to even look at the house without showing your face.

Evidently, the house is not the place to attack. Instead, you found he has a cantina he appears to visit often, judging by his knowledge of the bartender and the customers, who without fail all greeted him when he entered. The cantina is close to the house, so yesterday, he walked there with only his two guards by his side.

If he does come there often, the way home is when you would attack: They will be intoxicated and relatively unprotected. You won’t get a better chance than this.

Now all you need to do is find out which days he usually goes and what time he leaves. To do just that, you are currently hoisted up on a crate in the backyard of the cantina, looking through the back window with a pair of thermal goggles.

The room is dark and devoid of any life forms, just as you had hoped.

Pushing the goggles up on your forehead, you take out your lockpicking tool and quickly hear the quiet click that tells you the viewport has been opened successfully. That, apart from the fact they had taken you in as a child, is the big advantage of being in a guild. The Concinnity provides you with all the tools and weapons anyone of your profession might dream of, as long as they get returned to the armory at your headquarters.

You pull yourself up and through the small opening, your feet connecting with the ground with an almost inaudible thud.

The room is some sort of office, which is what you hoped it’d be. You move towards the terminal on your right quickly, and it takes you only a few seconds to pull up the security tapes of the past few weeks. Their password is 1111. You scoff quietly.

They don’t seem to have a lot of trouble with criminals around here, which makes sense since this is one of the most expensive areas to live in in this city. It’s all mansions and slave quarters.

The transfer to your data chip begins and you nervously look over your shoulder every few seconds.

Ten seconds until transfer complete…

nine…

You hear steps approaching. Your heart rate quickens as you watch the numbers count down. The steps get louder.

two…

one…

transfer complete

You rip out the data chip and practically leap through the window, closing it behind you just in time, for you hear the door open just as you slide down the wall on the other side.

You allow a small grin to play on your lips. Almost done.

The data chip disappears in your jacket and you make your way back to the headquarters. They are closer than your apartment, and their equipment is much better than what you have.

As the iris scanner retracts and the heavy doors to what has been your home for the larger part of your life open, somebody calls out your name.

You spin on your heel, only to be faced with Magnus.

“Magnus.” You reply, still not thrilled about seeing his face again. The detonators that were busted because of him had been your own, not Concinnity property, and they had been expensive.

“Do you have a plan for the mission yet? Making any progress?”

You look at him sourly while you head deeper inside. Normally, he is not breathing down your neck this much when you are preparing for a job.

“Of course,” You say pointedly, before adding, “What makes this so important to you?”

He takes you by the elbow and moves you to an even less crowded area of the place.

“First of all, the total pay is 50,000 republic credits, and we got half in advance.”

50,000 credits… That means that’s 45,000 creds going straight to you.

“Second of all,” he lowers his voice as if he is about to tell you a secret. “The man you met, and the man he works for, they’re… very influential. More so than you can imagine. They’re…” he nervously looks around, even though you are alone. “I believe they are force users. Have you ever heard of the Sith?”

Sith? Dimly, you recall hearing the name associated with users of what was called the dark side of the force, working against the Jedi Order, but you also remember hearing that they have been extinct for hundreds of years. Or have they?

When you remember the handle of the lightsaber in the cantina, you are suddenly not so sure anymore.

“But whatever they are, it is of the utmost importance that you don’t fail them. Do you understand?”

You gulp, trying to keep the unease out of your face, but not wanting to imagine what will happen if you do happen to fail. It’s a ridiculous thought: in the four years that you’ve been a professional hitwoman, you have never failed even once—the result of fifteen years of rigorous training.

“I will not fail,” you answer, staring into his eyes, and turn away from him to start heading to the technical center.

The door slides open after both your fingerprint and your iris have been scanned, revealing a dark room with terminals sitting against the wall in rows, a notable distance between each one of them. Not that it would be necessary: their displays are tinted so that only the person sitting in front of them can see.

The room is deserted with the exception of one girl, no older than fourteen. You recognize her as one of the students and give her a curt nod as you move towards the other side of the room. You know your people can be trusted, but you still prefer to have as much privacy as possible.

You retrieve the material from the data chip and quickly speed up the footage from the security holocams, scanning them for Galenos. He appears often, about every other day, drinking, groping women, swinging punches occasionally. His guards, however, don’t drink with him, as you note with disappointment. They’ll have to die with him, then. It’s their job anyway, isn’t it?

Judging by the pattern you found, that would mean he is not going to be at the cantina tonight, but tomorrow, which is… perfect?

You shudder. Missions that go too smoothly make you… suspicious. There has to be some kind of catch.

Maybe it’s not the mission itself. Maybe it’s the client; Magnus said he is powerful and you believe him. Simply his aura when you met him was… intimidating. Was that just how force users were, or was it just him?

You push the doubt out of your mind. Do the job.

After erasing the data, you rush out of the room and head to your apartment that’s not too far from here. If you are going to strike tomorrow, you need to get as much rest as you can now.

A blaster is secured in the holster around your right thigh. Your throwing knives are inside safely strapped to the utility belt that’s holding the detonators and stunning plates tight around your waist. Crossed over your back are your machete, a choice of weapon that’s always been frowned upon by other members of the Concinnity , and your sword, the only weapon you had worked on and modified yourself. It is… priceless and very useful against opponents in possession of stun batons and the like.

Darkness is looming over the city. Not many people are out in this quarter, the rich quarter; not at this hour. You’re perched on the roof of some kind of mini hangar, far enough up to not be seen by occasional passersby, low enough to not get hurt jumping down.

Galenos should pass this point soon. His previous visits to the cantina showed he tends to leave right around midnight, which just passed.

There.

Steps are approaching. Three sets of feet, if you are not mistaken, exactly what you have been listening for.

Adrenaline starts coursing through your body—this is the one shot you get. If you fail to kill him, you will never see him with his guard down again, his security will be too alert after one attempt on his life.

They get closer and you can hear him slurring his words. He is a drunk, just like his father used to be. You wonder how many slaves have fallen victim to that drunken violence. Was it more or less than his father?

You grit your teeth and position yourself, ready to jump, hand at the handle of the machete. This is not going to be a duel or battle of any kind. It’s going to be an ambush.

They approach the point you are standing at, and you wait, and wait, and wait…

Until they just about pass it.

Pushing yourself off the hangar with as little noise as you can manage, you soar through the air and land right behind them.

The guard on his left spins around at the noise; the bigger one. Before he can even lift his enormous arms, the blade is buried deep inside his chest, leaving only two more people to finish off.

As expected the other guard immediately charges at you. You duck under his powerful swing and attempt an attack on his abdomen, but he is too fast and moves out of the way, causing you to miss your original target but instead get a deep cut in his thigh.

He involuntarily lowers his upper body as he clutches the injured leg, which is his fatal mistake because you use the opening to get a solid hit to his head and end his life by pushing the machete into his exposed back.

In a fair fight, he would have been a challenge.

Luckily for you, you play dirty.

Galenos is too drunk to understand that he should run away now, should have run away a long time ago. He is still stuck where he was standing when you dropped out of the sky, staring wide-eyed, the blood of his guards splattered across his chest. You extend your arm with the machete towards his neck, and it’s only then that he starts stumbling backward, the panic slowly manifesting on his features. His back hits the wall and his short escape is put to a pitiful stop.

You don’t kill him yet. Instead, you approach him slowly, until you are standing right in front of him and can look him in the eyes. They’re the same color as yours, just like you thought.

You made the mistake of letting your emotions get the better of you when you noticed the same feature in his father years ago, and you paid the price for it. You won’t make that mistake again.

His eyes widen in surprise as he, too, sees your eyes, but before he can say anything, ask the one question that is up in the air, you slit his throat.

“Goodbye, brother.”

The gurgling sound drowns out the words he meant to say, and you’re thankful for that.

Now it’s finally over.

It’s almost dawn when you end up pressing the button your client gave you. Disposing of the bodies had taken up more time than planned because of their sheer size, and your muscles are aching from having to carry men more than twice your weight.

The walk to the cantina doesn’t take long, and you can spot his hooded figure leaning against one of its outside walls. He doesn’t move his head towards you as you approach him, but you know he’s aware of your presence.

“Is it done?”

“Yes.”

At once he lifts his gaze to bore his eyes into yours, no through yours, as if he were looking right past them into your mind. The strange golden color of his eyes seems to engulf you and you lose sense of your surroundings, the only thing that matters his eyes—

You avert your stare with a ruck when you finally recognize his Jedi mind trick, attempting to get him out of your head.

Judging by his quiet sound of frustration, you succeed.

His face falls back to complete indifference, as if he hasn’t just tried to invade your mind.

“You have completed this job to satisfaction. However, my master has decided you are a liability.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, glaring. You just want to get paid and be done—but if that man is a Jedi after all, that could prove to be a problem. And if he’s a Sith?

“You are given the rare grace of a choice .”

You furrow your brows.

“Either, you join us in our effort to rid the galaxy of its oppressors and create a better world. Or…” his voice trails off.

“Or what?” you ask provocatively.

“We kill you.”

You let out a humorless laugh.

“So that is the thanks I get for completing your mission? You threaten me?”

The Sith lord—now you’re sure of it—doesn’t reply, but instead waits for your decision.

You answer, mustering up the courage and sealing your fate with a voice that doesn’t betray your inner panic, “What makes you think you can kill me?”

Simultaneously you both change your postures; he widens his stance ever so slightly, while you step back a little and keep your arms ready at your sides.

His hand floats over the silver handle at his belt and as if pulled by an invisible string, the lightsaber flies into his glove.

For one second you stare at each other, the tension almost tangible in the air.

Then he ignites it.

_____

next chapter

_____

I am starting a tag list, so let me know if you want to be added!

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader

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dragonfire2lm · 4 years ago

Text

Rubies and Sapphires: The Ruby Heart

Chapter 2: Spells and Swords

Beyond the red brick walls lay a formidable castle with towering spires, banners displayed the Clan Crest, a dragon coiled around a top hat, and Red was forced at sword point down the dirt path. The courtyard, with dead or dying plants in the neglected flowerbeds, was empty.

Were it not for the few scattered, top hat wearing people she saw looking at her curiously, warily from with the relative safety of the castle’s front gate, she would assume the place was abandoned. But that was far from the truth, the castle interior a maze of winding halls, within which the members of the infamous clan went about their business.

There was something about the place, an oppressive air that the inhabitants couldn’t shake that made her tail bristle. It set her on edge.

With Reginald in front of her and Wright behind her, sword threateningly pointed at her back, she was escorted through a pair of doors and into a large room.

“Your Majesty, we return with good news.” Reginald said smoothly, with added flourish as the trio halted before a round table.

The table was old, with a large, polished crystal inlaid in the middle of it, and several chairs placed evenly around the circumference. Seated on the black and gold throne at the head of the table, was a man wearing a black top hat with a crown in the shape of a dragon with its wings outspread.

“Good news eh?” he drawled, adjusting his red cape as he sneered at the sight of the Red. “Who’s she?”

“May I introduce The Cadmean Vixen, she assisted us in retrieving the jewels without issue.”

That caught the ruler’s attention, he swiftly rose from his seat, walking over as the two men presented the stolen gems.

“And let me guess? You think she should join the clan…”

“Her skills are indisputable-” Reginald said.

The clan ruler scoffed, snatching the ruby from him. He smirked as he inspected it. “Good job Reggie, and here I thought you were only good for scribe work.”

He eyed the ruby, a crooked grin splitting his face. “Yeah, we can do some real damage with this…”

“King Terrence?” Reginald asked and the other man snapped his gaze over to his subordinate.

The king gave Red a glance, looking her up and down. “You look human…”

“She’s a furhide.” Wright interjected.

“Tch, well Reggie, since you want her in the clan, she’s your responsibility,” Terrence ordered as he pocketed the ruby. “Take the Star Sapphire to the vault and give the furball a run-down of the joint... Oh and due to the shortage of rooms, she’ll be staying in the stables. I’m not wasting space on a stray.”

With his orders given, King Terrence turned on his heel and left the room with purpose, cape swishing behind him.

She heard Wright sheathe his sword.

“Well, it could have gone worse.” Reginald stated.

Wright snorted as Red glanced between the two of them. This, admittedly, was uncharted territory for her. She had spent how knows how long working by herself, living day-to-day, and relishing the few brief moments of having food readily available and a roof over her head, that suddenly being thrust into this group of magic users was daunting.

Wright handed the Star Sapphire over to Reginald. “You head to the vault, I’ll handle the girl.”

The stables were as empty as the courtyard. The building itself was sturdy despite the minor signs of disrepair she could see on her initial inspection. Red had been left to her own devices after Wright had given a no-nonsense, brief tour of the fortress. Nothing more than showing her where the mess hall and baths were located before leading her to the stables.

“Reginald will meet you in the mess hall tomorrow, don’t keep him waiting.” Wright had warned her.

The place felt like a ghost town. Like something stripped of all that grandeur and life, leaving it a hollowed-out husk while the people simply made do.

The best she could manage in the space she had been given was finding a few tattered blankets in a chest and making a rudimentary nest in the loft.

As the first light of dawn peaked through gaps in the roof, she laid down on her makeshift bed, wide awake and alert for any signs of danger. She filled the oppressive silence not with sound, but with thoughts.

Tales of the Toppat Clan, legends, reached even her during her travels. As much as she would like to hope that maybe she had finally found somewhere to call home, the reality of her situation was impossible to ignore.

Another hells damned life under the heel of another master. Bitterly, she mused that maybe that was what she should get for being a bleeding heart and sticking her nose in someone else’s business. She knew she was being dramatic of course, but it mattered little when she had nothing but her own thoughts for company for so long.

She knew it was going to be an uphill battle, but it wasn’t in her nature to just turn tail on people without reason and the Toppats had yet to do something to betray her trust.

So here she was, trying to concoct a scheme to turn her situation into something that would benefit everyone.

*******************************************************************************************

“We’re going to rob Galeforce blind!” Terrence announced to the Toppats that sat around the table. Red herself stood behind Reginald, watching the meeting unfold.

“See we got ourselves the Radiant Ruby,” the king said, showing off the jewel in question. “With this beauty we can ensnare a dragon and with a dragon on our side, no one will be able to stop us!” he grinned, an unnatural, twisted look on his face. “Just picture it, with a dragon at my beck and call we could go anywhere and steal anything. ‘Course, we gotta get one first.”

His words made her stomach drop, disgust rolled in her stomach, and she did her best to keep a straight face as he continued.

“Now, we all know dragons love gold, and we’ll need a small fortune to lure it into the trap. So, we’re going to sweep across the land, bust through every one of Gale’s strongholds, villages, you name it, and take as much as we can carry.”

A tense silence fell around the table.

“We’ll be in sight of our first target in an hour, pick your teammates and party up.” Terrence ordered and the room became a hive of activity as people got up from their seats and left to make their preparations.

She fell in step behind Reginald and Wright.

“We’re going to capture the dragon?” she asked.

“If Terrence wants us to, then that’s what we’ll do,” Reginald replied, resigned. “We have little say in the matter.”

“Once you pass your initiation, you take the oath, and The King casts the Binding Spell that makes you a permanent member of the clan,” Wright explained as they turned down a corridor. “Terrence rewrote it when he became king, an’ there’s nothin’ we can do about it.”

“Almost nothing…” Reginald said quietly. “If I just had the ruby…”

The vixen blinked. She could help him again, a few weeks to memorize the layout of the place, give off the impression that she was harmless, unimportant and build up a reputation in the clan…

Yes, she could steal the ruby in a month if she had the time and resources. She thought about leaving but judging from what little she’d put together from their first conversation, and the revelation of the binding spell, what little morality she had wouldn’t let her stand by and ignore this.

“I can get you the ruby.” She spoke up.

The two men looked back at her in surprise.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Terrence will make an example out of you if you so much as try and that is assuming, he doesn’t just kill you.” Reginald said.

“You’re not under the spell yet girl, why don’ you get off this rock an’ leave this to us?” Wright asked with raised eyebrow. “This is Toppat business.”

She stared back them defiantly. “Because I know what it’s like, you become so used to having no say in anything, to waiting for the next order, for the next chance to be useful, that it becomes normal, acceptable even… To the point that you don’t know what to do with yourself once you finally found freedom.”

“I spent five… six years at The Wall,” she divulged, powering through the well of emotions and hazy memories the admission bought forth. “They keep furhides as guards, treat them no better than actual dogs, I needed the coin and it seemed like a good offer at the time. I only got out six months ago.”

“And since then, you’ve made a name for yourself as a thief.” Reginald summarized, the shock morphing into understanding. He shared a look with Wright.

Something seemed to pass between them, a fire had been lit as the two men moved to walk beside her.

“We’ll meet in the stables tonight after the raid and discuss this further.” Reginald stated.

She nodded and joined them as they headed to the foundry to make their preparations.

*******************************************************************************************

Hours later, Red’s head was spinning, she struggled to fight against the light-headedness as the sounds of combat roared around her. She was in her fox form, hiding in a house. She’d been separated from the Toppats as soon as the fight began, the guards had been organized, a cohesive unit that had the slap-dash tactics of the mages outmatched in minutes. She had taken refuge in the shadows, slinking into houses and storing any valuables she could find in the magical pocket realm in her tail.

She’d been unlucky enough to watch as one of the Toppats, an archer with an enchanted bow, took the sharp end of a blade to the face. Red had been forced to hide in a house because the sight had made her fee like she was going to faint. As she waited for the dizziness to subside, something crashed through the back door.

She stumbled over to hide beneath a table as someone shambled into the room. Wright, unsteady on his feet, walked in with Reginald lobbing balls of fire from his hands behind him to cover their escape.

Wright sat down on the nearest available chair. Reginald locked the door behind him and waited with bated breath.

The fight raged on outside, but no guards appeared to have noticed the two men ducking into the house. Red crept out from her hiding spot, shifting into her human form, and adjusting her robes.

“What happened?” she asked cautiously as she approached them, the worst of her dizziness fading as she focused on the two Toppats.

Reginald glanced back at her, still on edge. “His defensive wards were broken by a shield bash.”

She made a noise in sympathy as she fished around her robes. She pulled out a potion bottle and handed it to Wright. Both men were surprised by the sight of the potion.

Reginald looked at the potion, then up at her. Wright grimaced as he accepted the offered potion, unscrewed the glass lid, and downed its contents.

“Thanks.” Wright grunted already looking more alert.

“If you need more, just ask,” Red said. “I can always make more.”

“You’re an alchemist?” Reginald asked.

“I picked up a few things at The Wall.” She replied.

Reginald was quiet for a moment. “We… could use your talents in the clan, we lost our healers some time ago...”

“We got a job to do, we’ll discuss this later.” Wright said as he got up.

The three of them avoided the frontlines, breaking into houses, stores and took whatever gold and valuables they could carry.

Something exploded.

The three of them moved to an open doorway and peered out to see what was going on. Maniacal laughter could b heard as the dust cleared and Terrence stepped out of the cloud of dust.

His grin was vicious as he held a golden staff. The staff had glowing black runes carved down its length and a black crystal set into the claw shaped top of the magical weapon. The Toppat King loosed a bolt of black energy from his weapon of choice towards the busiest part of the battlefield. Guards and Toppats alike were caught in the blast, Terrence only caring for his immediate victory, and Red heard Reginald suck in a breath in horror at it all.

“His own men are in there!” Red hissed. “The hells is he thinking?”

“We can always recruit more…” Wright quoted bitterly.

“We need to help them, everyone, with me.” Reginald commanded as he led the way.

As their ruler ran rampant, the small band retrieved as many of their wounded as they could, Red’s seemingly endless supply of potions and elixirs proving to be a boon to the clan and saving countless lives.

#fanfic #fantasy AU #henry stickmim collection #reginald copperbottom #right hand man

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fuwafuwamedb · 5 years ago

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A Cursed G Pt 27 (Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Siduri)

Previous Part: 1 - HakuPOV / GilPOV, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26

_____

The apsu were quick, quicker than usual with their speeds.

Yet still, as Gilgamesh tucked the bathed woman into his bed and glanced at the group entering his chambers, he found them to be lacking. They were too slow. They were too useless.

“My king,” Siduri pulled him away from the bed.

“I want her breathing smoothly by the time I return,” he demanded of the group. His eyes turned to Enkidu, “Stay with them and ensure that she remains alive and breathing.”

“You know I want to take care of her too,” Enkidu replied.

They should have, but they had both failed to realize that Ishtar would sink to such levels. The defecation room. Of all the places to attack someone, to sink to that kind of level and attack someone when they were relieving themselves was without a doubt the worst kind of coward.

He could feel his temper like a fire, flaring higher and higher towards the heavens. The woman at his side was remaining quiet, leading him as she was supposed to through the palace. He could see his people murmuring and hurrying to clean and do their work. The maidens of the palace were moving to greet him, being waved off.

“I want a selection of fabrics,” he informed the group. “You will all become maidens to my woman.”

They nodded, obedient as ever.

“She is this tall,” he told them, motioning to about his chest. “Brown hair, brown eyes. It gleams with bits of gold in the light. She’s small, but she has an abundant chest. Keep that in mind when you have the seamstresses called forth to the palace.”

Siduri waited, listening.

“She will awaken disoriented and her language skills for our kingdom have a hint of her mother tongue in it, but she will understand you.”

The women dispersed.

Still, Siduri remained, bowing.

“Shall we?”

“Where are we at with the preparations for me claiming Hakuno?”

“I ah…” Siduri scratched at her head a bit. “We’ve run into a problem.”

“Fix it.”

The woman spluttered. “It’s not that simple! We don’t know this woman’s background. The people don’t know who she is or where she’s from or even what she looks like! The advisors are panicking. You were gone for months, King Gilgamesh!”

“And I am back.”

“Ishtar claimed that you were dead!”

He would take care of that problem in due time too, but her words were a problem.

Gilgamesh paused in his office, looking at all the tablets that lined his desk and the walls. Countless cups on the desk said that someone had been pulling all nighters, attempting to make sense of the chaos that looked to be rampant in this room. There were soiled cloths in a bin beside the desk. The basin of water in the corner had a cloth tinged in blood.

“…Have you slept, Siduri?”

The woman froze.

“I asked if you had slept.” Gilgamesh glanced over, noting the heavy bags under her eyes and the faint traces of where she’d wiped under her nose to stop a nose bleed.

Siduri had been managing the kingdom in Enkidu and his absence.

“You need to rest.”

“My king-“

He turned her around, steering her towards his own chambers. The servants that passed were barked at for the apsu bedding. He himself grabbed blankets from a passerby bringing in fresh linen, refusing to hear anything out of the fool he was steering back to his chambers.

Siduri clambered, she begged; and, naturally, he wouldn’t hear of it. As the apsu treated Hakuno, he settled the foolish woman into a corner of his room and tucked her in.

“Rest.”

“I can’t! There’s too much to do!”

She wasn’t a good listener, was she?

“My king-“

“Would you rather rest beside Hakuno?” Gilgamseh asked, watching the woman begin to panic further. “I can have the apsu put you to sleep if that is what it takes. Enkidu and I will send them in regularly to ensure that you rest until such a time that you’re not on the brink of visiting Ereshkigal. You’ll sleep so deeply that not even the gods could awaken you, should they bother to try.”

“…I would not impose on your bed, my king.”

But she wouldn’t mind it.

Gilgamesh laughed, pulling the woman up into his arms and walking over to the bed. He tucked her in, just as he had done before and just as he had done with Hakuno. His poor attendant, flustered and burning away into nothingness out of her own embarrassment.

He would allow this.

She had done well in watching over the kingdom, from what he’d seen. There were no people stressing about the fact that he had been gone. It didn’t seem that anyone was second guessing his presence in the palace.

By her own admission, his advisors were worried, but he would quell them soon enough.

“Allow Siduri to rest once done with Hakuno,” he informed the apsu, watching the men divide and tend to the attendant now.

“Should I stay with them?” Enkidu asked.

“I need you with me.”

The apsu were bowing themselves out, thanking him for calling upon them for this opportunity. He could feel the two resting well now.

“What was wrong with Hakuno?”

“It was a magic block, in several places,” one of the apsu informed him. “Whomever got to her, managed to stop her mana and her blood from flowing freely. Had you not acted as quickly as you did, my king, you would not have her alive at this point, not with all limbs.”

One of the men faltered, shaking his head at the women in his bed.

“The woman’s mana was difficult to free. She may experience pain if she is a magic user. She will need to utilize her abilities once she has awakened. We’ll see what damage lingers.”

Lingers.

Gilgamesh waved the fool off before he bothered him further.

Hakuno wouldn’t have lingering pain.

The woman had saved his life. In return, he had been forced to do the same because of a problem he held. That was not a suitable return of favor.

“Enkidu-“

He paused, glancing back to find the being snuggling in between the two women and pulling them into their arms. The shit-eating grin had him chuckling.

“Are you planning to watch over them then?”

“It was the original plan, wasn’t it?”

“How are you going to protect them when you are half under them?”

The being snuggled both women closer, pressing their lips to Siduri’s forehead. “I’ll growl.”

The being didn’t know how to growl. They knew simply how to roar. Still, the being’s decision set him at ease. He nodded, turning away.

“There’s a fair amount of work to be done, I will have to see to it.”

He would leave the guarding to Enkidu.

Meanwhile, for him, he had a palace to attend to. The guards bowed at the entrance to his audience chamber. His advisors fell to their knees upon the site of him. Without fail, he found that the world he had been torn so viciously from had not forgotten him.

In fact, it had missed him sorely.

He dragged the advisors to the offices, assigning them piles and threatening punishment for being bothered with anything less than dire circumstances.

Gilgamesh then perched himself upon his desk, listening to the men murmur to one another and eyeing the piles that sat upon his desk.

Siduri had great organization. To a point, the most important documents always found their way to his desk and his desk alone. Eyeing the pile, he could already see the proposals, the requests for his attendance at festivals and traditional rituals. He had no doubt he would be turning kingdoms away since he had Hakuno as well.

Perhaps in a few days, he could open the pathway back to her time and allow for them to go through with the plan for the two of them.

Perhaps, but he had concerns in that regard.

The spells they had done had been directed towards Uruk, not back.

Even if Hakuno wanted to return, it would be almost impossible without great knowledge of her time. And, even then, they had no idea how the time would work. They could end up arriving before he had ever gone to Fuyuki. They could end up arriving after all of her friends were dead.

That kind of thing didn’t matter right now though.

Gilgamesh turned his attention to the top tablet, beginning to work.

The temple of Ishtar was demanding his presence a lot, it seemed.

The fools must have been informed that he was gone. Several correspondences demanded for his presence to be seen, to which Siduri had done a wonderful job imitating his indifference. Time and time again, she pointed out the futility of the traditions and the practices, citing words he had no doubt used at some point.

There were other tablets too, beseeching the temple of Ninsun to counter the other temples from interfering. His mother must have become involved in covering up his absence.

A pause at one tablet showed interest in the Ishtar priests visiting him.

Gilgamesh snapped his fingers for one of the advisors.

“Put up a divinity barrier around the palace.”

“My king?”

“Against Ishtar’s divinity, to be precise.”

The man fled, offered salvation from his paperwork.

More tablets, now on proposals, were now on his desk.

The kingdom of Ur had a young girl coming of age that would need to become accustomed to a man’s body. The kingdom of Nippur had triplets.

One look at their age had him tossing the tablet towards the window.

Bodies that young were useless for anything more than learning and partaking in selfish purpose. He had no need to be taking something younger than the number of months he had been with Hakuno.

Sunlight drifted from his office chambers as the tablets were trickling from the room. The servants of the palace were arriving now, their robes flourishing around them as they raised their hands to the wall mounts and illuminated space after space in their room. The flames flickered nicely, crackling a little as Gilgamesh paused from his work.

The food came.

He went back to work quickly after.

King.

It’s the king!

Lion king.

Gilgamesh paused from his work, frowning as he saw the beasts prowling into the room. The last of the tablets were vanishing, leaving him with the final few that the advisors had whittled the work down to. He could see the lions climbing onto his lap, nuzzling at his face and purring incessantly.

“It would seem you all know of my return.”

He listened to the purring, hearing the low murmur of voices beneath.

King.

King’s back.

Welcome back.

Room smells of female.

So the cure was not perfect for him, he guessed.

The advisors had gone. There were no guards outside his door. What’s more, the voices, far too close and intimate for anyone outside the room to fake, were no doubt from his beasts.

Ishtar had turned him into a cat.

It seems he had retained some senses from them.

Naturally, such a thing would actually be useful to him. He could keep tabs on the people in the palace due to these felines. What’s more, if they understood him, he could send them on tasks.

“Did you all see my woman?” He brushed back some manes, listening to the group grow louder in their pleasure. “She will be requiring your protections in the upcoming years. She is going to remain my female.”

The noisy bunch purred back to him.

King female.

Good smell.

Female.

Kitten.

“You are all going to be important to her. Indeed.”

Work was done.

That meant that he no longer cared about anything happening in the palace. His woman was safe. His attendant, the one he favored, was resting. Enkidu was watching them both. That left him with no bed and no plans for the time being.

That in mind, he stood up, motioning for the lions to follow him.

There was no one to stop him from the thought he’d been contemplating during the majority of his work. No one could advise him against what he could do to that fool’s people. Uruk was a kingdom that was built upon the people’s loyalty to their king. Each member within the kingdom contributed. Each person was given their due praise, as was befitting.

He walked down the steps of the ziggurat, eyeing the temple further down the streets.

There was a group in this kingdom who had done nothing to provide for these people he governed. Their actions, along with their woman whom they represented, had gone against the people’s wishes. They’d questioned his presence, knowing full well that he was in trouble.

A part of him wondered how fast he could have been retrieved had the fools acted as Uruk people.

Gilgamesh pushed the doors of Ishtar’s palace open.

“Kill the robed ones.”

The plain beasts roared forward, claws and fangs extended and glinting. The sounds of the screams echoed into the night air as Gilgamesh stood in the doorway, A few attempted to run. A few more attempted to beseech him to help them.

He raised his head up a little higher, regarding their ends.

Their blood would be on his hands, sure.

Their innocence was perhaps debatable.

However, they had known revolution would come if he was found to be gone. Siduri would not reign. Enkidu would have faltered, given that the gods were prone to ruining their lives like that. There would have been nothing and no one to help and protect his people.

The lions pattered forward, coated in red.

“You have done well,” he praised, kneeling down to stroke the beasts’ fur. “We’ll bathe you all in the canals and return to the palace.

His debt to Ishtar was returned.

She had almost killed him and Hakuno at random points.

He had managed to kill all of her priests.

Perhaps now she would learn that he had no intention of coming near her.

“Come,” he told the beasts.

The night was young enough to waste by watching the stars from his favorite gardens.

“It’s good to be back.”

#drabble #drabbles

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aubadine · 4 years ago

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Life is a magic I have been eager to know more even when I was still young with no care about the crisis the world is actually having. I thought then that maybe it is just like a cloud that I will try to chase as it moves freely like the wind and then disappear into thin air, fitting completely perfect with the crowd as our background. I thought that maybe, it will be just as sweet as a pink cotton candy that I always buy during fares in our city. I thought that I would not have to cry because of problems as it will be just smoothly sailing without the big monstrous waves that scares me. I thought of a lot of things even before and I think I expected too much. Because my life right now is like the Great Wall of China which hinders me from being free.

If to be brutally honest, I did not actually thought that barriers would appear and show itself to me. I really believed then that when I grow up, I will be this perfect princess whom everbody will love and praise. However, my imaginations from when I was a child took a drastic turn when I grew up as I came to realize a lot of things that my innocent mind missed. I realized that the concepts that I built and created in my mind will stay like they are because I will not be able to reach them all since they were very idealistic. I realized that because of the hurt that I carry now, I have unconsciously built a big invisible barricade that separates me and my fantasies. Now, I am the Atlantic to my Pacific ocean. Just besides each other but not mixing.

Some days, I will think that maybe, if only we were given the right support, we could have been the best pearl group this world could ever have. Yet as we shun individually in our own ways, we grew apart and were condemned as not meant to be. We were labelled and forced to believe that resiliency is our answer for everything. But, no, I am here to tell you that it is all just an illusion they want us to believe. For years, we have been suffering from various calamities and like what we have been doing since before, we try to innovate and others will commend us for being smart. Surely, it really is amazing to see and know that even in the midst of complete darkness, we are able to think and prove ourselves. But until when?

In my mind, I feel like everything is already breaking apart into small divisions. The nations that I see are already in uproar and the castles and kingdoms of the economy starts to fall. If we lift our voices now, the earth will quake. If we all open our eyes right now and plug our ears to block the alluring calls from people we do not want to hear from, we will see how the oppressed sings their cries. At this point, we can only hope that the last words of August will be the curved letters in the sky; “May the next generation be like the stars—luxurious and cannot be counted by hands—infinite.” How scary would it be to imagine that by each move the hands of the clock ticks with every rhythm it creates, the wheels and oils it uses grows old and lets the users forget the stories untold and which by it, the inevitable farewell finally takes its final fold.

This is me, Vynan Louise, an aspiring individual for the betterment of the people, to free the oppressed, and one of the persons who moves to eliminate injustice by being the voice of the voiceless. A journalist to serve the people, a writer to feed the curious minds, and a friend to those who are in need. One may wonder, how come does those mentioned above can be a factor for my identity. The answer will be; Your identity is yours and mine is different. We do not own each other but rather, just ourselves. With that, how I wish for it to be the greatest symbol of our worth as we grow older as better persons than we are now. May we all live in a world where we are all open for positivity and not toxic mentality for even when we like it or not, our life is not taking the path we expected it to be and we have to make our move.

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kaermenna · 5 years ago

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The Pointy End

@idonthatemaiko READ ON FF.NET || READ ON AO3

A\N: Yes, I’m a month late, but I missed writing maiko stuff, so here I am. Also, this is an old draft that I only managed to finish now. It’s not as polished as I wanted, but with the mess that is my life now, it’s the best I can get. But hey, it’s Maiko! Maiko is always good!

Mai loved practicing. She really did.

It was a little tedious and dull, but whenever she took the time to practice her knife throwing, darts throwing, or any kind of projectile throwing, she was comfortable. The sound of the target being hit always gave her a small proud feeling, even though it was too easy, even though she was always alone in a confined room.

Of course, it would always end quickly, unless she was trying a really troublesome routine, or trying to perfect a new move or weapon, in which case she would end up staying a little more than one hour in the practice room. But the short time she needed to spend on it was part of the reason why she loved practicing.

However, at that specific moment, she thought practice was a torture.

“I missed it again!” Zuko’s cry of frustration could have been funny or at least amusing in any other situation. But at that moment it was annoying, so Mai rolled her eyes to not give in to the temptation of throwing her knife at him.

“Of course you did,” she said through her clenched teeth, “You suck at this.”

She walked to the few fallen knives, five feet away from the target they were using, hoping he would now stop being stubborn and finally go to anywhere else, putting an end to her agony.

“But, how? I aimed them perfectly!” Mai didn’t have to stare at him to know that he was with his eyes bulged incredulously, even though this outcome was pretty much just as expected.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have missed it.”

Her hopes of peace at last were crushed when he walked towards her, hands raised to take the knives back, ready for a new endless set of throws. So she held them protectively, not very eager to watch him fail helplessly and disturbing her own practice time.

At her reluctance, Zuko took a deep breath, eyes shining with a new determination. When he spoke again, his voice wasn’t whiny nor angry, “Let me do it again, I’ll get it right this time.”

"You won’t get it right that fast. It took months of practice for me…”

“Just give me the knives.”

Mai sighed and pushed the knives to his chest and walking away to sit in the corner of the room. Between hours of annoyance at his insistence and a heated argument around pointy objects, she decided to just let her boyfriend have his way.

The first throw went straight to the floor and she grunted out loud. The second hit the vicinity of the target, but it just bounced off the wall and fell down to the floor. One would think, by this pattern, that he was showing progress, and that the third would come closer to the bull's eye, or finally perforate the practicing wood, but she had seen enough to know that it was just dumb luck, and he would oscillate between getting better and getting worse.

Finally, she grows tired of watching. Any other day she would love to just ogle at him practicing; she used to do it so often and so attentively to his movements, that she had basically memorized the way his body fluidly moved during his firebending routine.

And that was what was annoying her the most right now.

“You’re moving as if you're bending,” she mutters.

“What?” Her comment puzzled him, but he stopped throwing the knives for a second, so she took it as a win.

“The knife. Your posture. Your aiming. The way you throw,” Mai explained vaguely, still too impatient with him to offer substantial help.

That time her anger didn't pass by unnoticed by him, so he quickly changed his question to a more submissive tone, “What do you mean by that?”

Mai only stared at him silently for a few seconds, trying hard to ignore the way his eyes glinted in expectation, just like a puppy hoping to be taken out for a walk. So she sighed, thinking that if she provided a more detailed explanation he’d get it right at least once and then leave her alone, and she approached him.

“Your arm.” She held it and slowly moved it just like he was doing a few moments ago, and then paused, freezing it midair, “Here. You start it right, but then you do this, like when you are bending.” Mai let go of his arm and moved around him as he stood perfectly still, paying careful attention to her instructions. Then she tapped on his back, pointing something else out, “Your posture. This. It’s too stiff. Your moves have to flow smoothly for the knife to fly properly.” She held his hand that wielded the knife and, leaning her face close to his shoulder, rose it a bit higher, “You have to aim even higher than this. Steel is heavier than flames, so it loses altitude easily. And the strength. You’re going too light. You need to give enough power to the knife, so it will pierce the wall, not just hit it.”

“Okay, I got it.”

“Did you really?” Her face got a little brighter, the hope that she would be able to leave the practice room in the near future growing on her. Maybe he could do it. He was smart, maybe not a genius nor a prodigy, but he had a brilliant mind nevertheless. He could understand that and just hit the target at least once.

“No, I have no idea of what you just said,” he deadpanned and she felt like tearing at her hair.

“For crying out loud, Zuko!" She actually shrieked in frustration, her patient gone to the point that she couldn’t even keep a straight face anymore, "Aren’t you a twin sword user? Don’t you know at least the basics?”

“I never had to throw them!" He shrieked back, frustrated at himself as well, but refusing to give up, "I could use firebending for that!”

“Then keep using them. Quit the knife throwing mania.”

Mai’s position was final and unshakeable. She was not going to stay another hour in there, helping him to achieve something he most certainly wasn’t going to in one single afternoon. Otherwise, if she spent one more minute supervising his practice, she’d end up actually hating him – and knives.

Zuko, however, refuses to relent.

“But I need a different skill. What if something happens and I’m momentarily incapable of firebending?”

“Just use with your damn swords.”

“But what if…”

Mai’s sharp glance made him stop his sentence halfway and just forget about protesting. And that was when, after seeing his distressed and troubled expression, she hesitated and felt her irritation subside a little bit.

She had been a nonbender for her entire life, she was used to not having bending as a resource. But the prospects of being completely out of touch with it would be dreadful for someone who had been reliant on bending through most of their lives. And yes, Zuko was quite proficient with his swords, but as knife-thrower, Mai knew better than anyone that, unlike firebending, they were a limited resource.

Of course, she could handle herself. In a world where benders were the supreme force of a nation, she learned very early how to defend herself and survive. But perhaps for someone used to always having a boundless source of power, it was too scary to suddenly be faced with a restricted amount and reach of weaponry, just like he did during the Solar Eclipse. And because of that - because she just couldn't handle when he looked at her like that - Mai felt the need to reassure him, even if it was just a bit. Even if she wasn't used to it.

“If you’re benderless and your swords are suddenly gone, you know you don’t have to worry, right?" She felt weird by saying stuff like that directly, but since it was him needing some comfort, she would look past her embarrassment and just try to lift his mood, "You’ll have me to protect you.”

Zuko finally settled his hands then, and didn’t try to resist when she took her knives back. On the contrary, he smiled like a goofy little boy, all of the uneasiness gone, as he teased her.

“I don’t need any protection,” he said with a laugh.

“Of course you do! You're lame and you need me for everything," she raised her voice for the second time, which was a clear sign of just how much Zuko managed to irk her. Seeing that he wasn't disappointed in the slightest, and was only trying to convince her with his teary eyes, made all of her compassion and gentleness fade away, "Now, pick up your swords. I’ve got a lot of pent up frustration and I know exactly the best target to get rid of it.”

Mai had never seen a more satisfied target before.

#maikofluffweek19 #atla maiko #atla #otp: i actually kind of like you #queen: mai #my dark scarred child #my fics

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fakeyellow · 5 years ago

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Kamilah recounts how she and the others regrouped once Eden/MC became possessed by Rheya. Part 2 of “insane” Kamilah. Part 1 here.

Final Part 3.

Summary: Since the First Vampire’s rise and fall 500 years ago, Kamilah Sayeed has moved into legend, a woman drenched in the blood of thousands.

Rosella has made it her mission to find out why.

An indeterminable amount of time had passed since Rosella’s capture and she found herself longing for Kamilah’s return. Her mind was going crazy with the countless possibilities of what might have happened and her throat was aching with thirst. How long had it been since she’d fed? Had Kamilah forgotten about her?

When at last she heard the sounds of the opening doors, her head snapped up before Rosella tried to contain her eagerness.

Kamilah stepped in, looking as perfect as she had that first time, dressed in that same blood-red suit but for once, Rosella’s attention wasn’t on her. It was on the blood pack in her hand.

Her head followed the movement of the bag as the woman walked near her, her fangs already out in anticipation. She felt the unlocking of one cuff and immediately, she snatched the blood bag with her free hand and began greedily sucking it down.

The bag now empty, Rosella licked the side of her lip where a small amount of blood was before gratefully saying, “Thank you.”

Kamilah, who had been unfazed at her nearly feral display of feeding, seemed surprised at the words of thanks before nodding once. Noticing how the vampire didn’t seem to be in any hurry to re-cuff her free hand, Rosella wondered if perhaps Kamilah knew that she wouldn’t run away even if she was set free (Or maybe it was because Kamilah could kill her in a second if Rosella showed even the slightest sign of wanting to escape).

A silence had fallen over the room and Rosella felt the need to fill it with anything, to get Kamilah talking before she decided she was in the mood to kill her today.

“So, E-,” Rosella quickly changed direction when she noticed Kamilah’s eyes flashing dangerously at the first syllable, “Rheya. Once Rheya had control over a body, what happened?”

There was still so much that had happened between the First Vampire’s resurrection and the beginning of Kamilah’s ruthless campaign that Rosella wanted, no needed to know.

It was silent for so long that Rosella began to lose hope. This was the day Kamilah finally grew tired of her and killed her.

Uneasy, Rosella began to fidget, accidentally letting her wrist come in contact with the rings of UV light emitted by the cuffs. The pain that flared up was instantaneous, so intense that she almost missed the soft words Kamilah began to speak.

—-

Rheya had killed all of the Order of Dawn soldiers down in the chamber before running away, leaving the massive headquarters to the four of them. They sat in one of the many debriefing offices and Kamilah wondered how many vampires must have been killed by plans made in this very room.

The first to break the tension hanging over the room, Lily voiced a similar thought to which Jax darkly muttered, “Too bad most of the soldiers are scattered throughout Europe. Rheya could have killed all of them.”

Adrian looked up at this and sharply rebuked, “Jax.”

“What?” Jax said, throwing his hands angrily up in the air, “We’re all thinking it. The First Vampire’s walking again, she might as well destroy the Order of Dawn while she’s at it. Not that we’ll live to see the benefits of that, but if she’s going to kill us, she better kill those bastards too.”

Kamilah was tired. As one of the oldest vampires in the world, she knew that everyone would be looking to her for leadership in these tumultuous times. She had over two thousand years of experience, and yet it never seemed to get easier, it was never not her. Kamilah felt the oppressive burden of leadership weigh down her shoulders and she closed her eyes briefly, her only sign of weakness, before she snapped to attention.

“We need to operate with the assumption that Rheya and Gaius are going to reunite and return,” she remarked and Lily, already looking pale, swore before sinking down in her chair.

“Kamilah’s right. We need to gather as many vampires as we can. Thanks to Vlad, Rheya has no shortage of vampires willing to join her cause,” Adrian smoothly picked up where Kamilah had left off even as Jax snorted.

“As if she needs willing vampires. She can probably just force them.”

“Jax!” They all turned to the source of the cry, surprised to see that it was Lily, uncharacteristically serious, “I get it. Everything sucks and I want nothing more than to hide in a bomb shelter and wait it out but we need to work on finding a way to beat them. Your Gloomy Gus act isn’t helping at all. Either offer some ideas or just shut up!”

Kamilah nodded approvingly, “I’ll reach out to all of my contacts. We can count on 300 vampires, maybe 400 if they can be convinced of their necessity.”

Adrian mused, “Not counting our overlapping connections, I think I can call in around a hundred. Jax?”

Jax gave a tired sigh, but he responded without any dark remarks, “If there’s anything I’ve learned, there’s a lot of Clanless still in hiding. I’d say around 1-200. Not including the Clanless who have already joined my clan.”

Lily added, “I’ll also have Fangbook display an announcement to every user. That’ll be able to get a lot of the younger vampires.”

Adrian eyed Kamilah carefully before he spoke, “There’s still the matter of Rheya.”

And here lay the crux of their situation, the problem that seemed to suck out all the oxygen in the room, the crisis they could avoid no longer.

The First Vampire was walking again. In Eden’s body.

The horror she had felt at that moment was greater than any she had felt in her life and Kamilah had been able to do nothing but dumbly watch as the woman she loved became but a shell for a legend. It felt like her heart had twisted itself into a tight knot and not relaxed since that very moment; how was it that each heartbreak she experienced was even more poignant than the last?

It seemed that when it came to Eden, Kamilah was capable of nothing but failure. She had failed to protect her from Vega, Gaius, Kavinsky, the Order, the list went on and on until her biggest failure yet.

Kamilah felt an urge to run out of the room and just chase after Eden, consequences be damned, but she pushed it down, pasting on an emotionless facade.

At her silence, Adrian continued delicately, “We all saw Eden drink from the Tree but it’s not clear what happened afterwards. Her eyes flashed red like a vampire but she didn’t have fangs. If I had to guess, I’d say Rheya’s possessed her and given Eden her abilities but Eden’s maintained her mortal body.”

They all remained silent after Adrian’s declaration, processing what this meant for Eden. Jax slammed the table in frustration as Lily frantically tapped her leg, her brow furrowed in worry. And then Adrian and Kamilah both looked at each other and said in unison, “Serafine.”

Kamilah nodded, “Serafine’s the only person who might know what happened and what to do.”

Lily perked up, her eyes wide behind the thick frames of her glasses, “Do you think she can maybe do her mind control thing like Jameson and kick Rheya out?”

“Perhaps,” she gave Lily. And seeing how Lily’s despondency completely disappeared, replaced with a fervent optimism, Kamilah envied her this. That she could be so filled with hope after one single word from Kamilah, that Lily trusted her unconditionally. There had only been one person able to pull her out from her feelings of numbness and shame, but she was far from her now.

“But we shouldn’t get too ahead of ourselves. Serafine might not know anything about this. We should be prepared for the worst,” Adrian interjected carefully and winced, “As the last resort, if there’s nothing we can do, we need to behead Rheya.”

“What?!” Lily jumped up from her seat, outraged, “So you’re just going to kill Eden?! Just like that?! What if she’s still in there?! You all saw how Rheya faltered for a second! Eden might still be in there fighting for her life! She never once gave up on any of us, but you’re not even going to give her a chance?!”

Jax avoided Lily’s glare of betrayal, “I agree with Adrian. We should still be on the same page if things turn for the worst. We can only kill Rheya using a weapon made out of the Tree, right?”

Adrian nodded and Lily looked desperately at Kamilah, in a fervent plea for help.

And although her heart was screaming at her to stop all this talk of death, Kamilah could not in good conscience fight Adrian and Jax on this. If worst came to worst, Rheya and Eden had to be killed for the greater good of the world… Right?

Feeling as if she were personally signing Eden’s execution warrant, Kamilah finally spoke, “We need to be prepared. But Lily’s right. We have to be careful, Eden may still yet be in there.”

“We can’t give up on her. Not after all she’s done. We kill her when we can’t do anything else.”

Serafine still looked a bit worse for the wear, even though she had long changed out of the tattered remains of her dress from the night of the club massacre. But her spirit was wholly intact and she determinedly kissed everyone on their cheeks in greeting; imprisonment was no excuse for bad manners.

Greetings over, Serafine became grave, “I’ve read through the Book.”

Serafine had been told about Rheya’s possession of Eden and although she hadn’t heard of anything like it, she had volunteered to research the Book. Even in the short amount of time they’d known each other, Eden had made an impression on Serafine, and if there was anything she could do, she would do it.

“What did you find?” Adrian asked, and Kamilah let out the smallest of sighs, thankful he had asked first. She’d been fighting not to betray her impatience the entire morning although Serafine’s keen eyes already seemed to have picked up on her eagerness. If it had been any other time, Serafine would have poked fun at her old friend for finally having found a woman she truly cared for (no wonder Eden hadn’t seemed interested in Adrian and Jax).

As it was, Serafine focused back on the tome in her hands, “I found several instances of vampires taking control over weaker vampires they had Turned, which isn’t exactly like Eden’s case but similar.”

“And?” Lily asked, bouncing on her heels with excitement, “were they able to regain control of themselves?”

Serafine hesitated, “Well, in one case, they tried destroying the body of the maker and controller.”

“And?” Adrian prompted.

“Both the maker and the controlled dissolved into ashes.”

“What happened in other cases?” Kamilah quickly asked, moving on from the unfruitful example.

“The controlled person died in every single instance."

A bleak silence fell over the five of them until Serafine spoke up again, “But these were all vampire vampire situations. It might be different with a Bloodkeeper. She has mental powers that these vampires most likely didn't’ have.”

Jax scoffed dismissively, “Yeah but we’re dealing with the First Vampire.”

And cynical though his words were, nobody could deny the truth in them.

Serafine wasn’t a particularly optimistic person but seeing just how broken and hopeless they all looked, she felt the need to speak, “You said Rheya faltered for a moment, right? That’s a good sign that Eden was even able to evoke a physical response. That means she’s still in there, she’s still fighting. If you can get me close enough to touch her, I may be able to help her.”

Kamilah nodded in thanks but Adrian still seemed unsatisfied.

“If it doesn’t work…” he trailed off.

Jax answered for all of them, “She dies.”

—-

A/N: I’m an idiot and I need to be studying but I can’t get this idea out of my head. There’ll be one more part to this.

#playchoices #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #lily spencer #jax matsuo #serafine dupont #my writing #bloodbound

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thedeviltohisangel · 6 years ago

Text

I Bet Her Mama Never Told Her Why//Michael Langdon x OFC

Tummy Riding .xx

Smut Warning

set in the same universe as “Before Anyone Knew” which can be found at the link in my bio!

a user on ao3 requested more of this pairing and @tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning submitted the tummy riding idea and honestly...we all know why.

let me know if you guys would like more of them!

Clara watched intently as the snow fell from the sky in circles, like ballerinas twirling, and gripped her mug of coffee tighter in the hopes it would warm her freshly out of bed hands. She had been delighted to see the snow out her bedroom window that morning, containing her squeal so Michael could sleep in, running to grab her fleece robe and get a better view from her living room.

“What’s going on? Why weren’t you in bed when I woke up?” She turned to see Michael, his tummy exposed from his t-shirt riding up as he scratched the back of his head with a yawn.

“It’s snowing! I wanted to watch it for a little bit before making breakfast.” Clara held her arm out towards him, Michael taking her hand slowly as she pulled him next to her. “See how magical? Everything gets quieter when snow falls.” He wasn’t watching the snow. He was watching her.

“I could make it snow for you whenever you want, you know.” His arms wrapped around her waist as he moved to stand behind her, his nose nuzzling against her throat.

“I know. There’s just something magical about the universe doing it for you.”

“I’m hungry.” His tongue snaked out to lick gently at her neck. She shivered under his touch and turned her head so her lips could meet his. They fit together like a key in a lock, her lips always unlocking some desire and passion deep within him. Michael had trouble controlling his urges when it came to Clara. Something about her awoke a beast inside of him and there was nothing that either of them could do to tuck it back away once it reared its horny head.

“You’re a big boy. I think you can make breakfast yourself.” He couldn’t stop the childish groan that then fell from his mouth.

“But, Clara, you do it exactly the way I like.” Michael clenched his hands into fists at his side. She also had the perfect ratio of nutella to peanut butter on his toast. The perfect level of crispiness on his bacon. None of the apple slices she gave him were soft or brown.

“Then how about we do it together so you can learn?” That was a compromise he could accept. She held his hand as they walked into the kitchen, starting with preheating the toaster oven for the toast. “Now, you turn the heat on after the bacon is in the pan so that way all the fat comes out of it and makes it extra crispy.” Michael nodded and gently peeled enough bacon strips from the package for the both of them and laid them in a neat line in the pan, making sure none of them overlapped.

“Do you want me to make you another cup of coffee?” He had moved over to the Keurig, learning how to use that a long time ago when he had wanted to surprise Clara with a treat in bed before she woke up. Also because he had learned you could make hot chocolate in it.

“No thank you. I need to drink more water, my skin’s been so dry.”

“I think your skin is always soft, Clara. Like velvet.” Her skin had brought him so much comfort in the time he had known her. There was always a way for him to be touching her and he always found it. Sexual or not, he had begun to require her natural warmth in order to feel at ease.

“You’re too kind to me. It hurts even more now when other people are vaguely mean cause you’ve given me such a high bar of expectations,” she said as she pulled a few slices of bread from the bag to place in the toaster.

“People are mean to you? Who’s mean to you?” Michael was beginning to feel his blood boil. How dare anyone make Clara feel less than the absolutely perfect angel that she was. How dare the universe betray this beautiful creature in such a way. “No one will ever be mean to you again, Clara, I promise.”

“Deep breaths, Michael, you’re getting warm again.” Whenever Michael got angry the room always seemed to raise more than a few degrees. It was a concern to Clara that he seemed to be losing control more frequently. There was only ever one thing that could bring him back from the brink of anger oblivion. “Go lie down in bed. Naked.” The darkness in his eyes was no longer angry but lustful.

“Clara…” He didn’t want her to be teasing him with what she was offering. Once the idea was implanted in his head, there was no way he could shake it.

“If you don’t listen to me, then you don’t get it.” A look of horror flashed before his eyes as he was hurt that she would deny him his simplest pleasure. When her face showed no signs that she was kidding, he jogged back into his bedroom. He pulled the comforter so it was lying flat on the bed, shedding his clothes and making sure to put them in the hamper before lying on his back on top of it. With his eyes closed, he swallowed thickly in an attempt to steady his heart rate. He always got to taste her when she got into a mood like this. It was all he ever craved in life. The taste of Clara, the woman he loved.

Michael resisted his urge to sit up when she walked in the room. Somewhere along the way she had lost her robe and her sleep clothes, joining him in being naked. His eyes followed her movements like a hawk. He didn’t want to miss a single sway of her hips or a single goosebump popping up on her skin in the cold air of their room. “You’re so pretty,” she whispered as she traced her fingertip along the contours of his face. He leaned into her touch like a mewling cat.

“Thank you,” he whispered back.

“Do you know what one of my favorite parts of you is, Michael?” In his head he was listing all the different things he had ever said she loved about him or had complimented. But he couldn’t think of an instance where she had used the word ‘favorite.’ So he shook his head. “This.” Her finger then traced around his belly button, relishing in the soft skin of his tummy. She loved that Michael was soft in the middle. It was beautiful in contrast to his cheekbones that seemed as they could cut glass. It was the perfect place to rest her head after a long day or rest her hands when Michael had eaten too much and needed a little rub.

“My tummy?” he asked with a look of confusion on his face. She nodded before swinging her leg over his waist so she was straddling the spot in question. Her hips began to roll gently, slowly working up a glistening shine on her pussy and the trail it left on Michael’s skin. He let out a sigh as he cast his eyes downward to watch her actions. His hands rested softly on her thighs, mouth watering as her clit slowly became more visible to him with every swipe of her hips. “Love looking at you like this,” he hummed as his tongue came out to wet his lips.

“Every part of you always feels so good against me, Michael, like you were made to bring me pleasure.” His chest puffed out a little at her compliment.

“I was. My father sent you to me for that reason. You are the final piece to my puzzle.” She moaned at his words. Clara had never known much about Satan or the prophecy of his son until Michael had sat her down and told her. And the way he looked at her, she had believed him. She did believe him. Nothing else could possibly explain the snow falling from the ceiling into his palms. Nothing else could possibly explain the way he cleaned up her spilled coffee with just a wave of his hand. But it didn’t explain why he looked like an angel. Why he looked at her with the softest, most heavenly expression she had ever seen.

Her torso tilted forward slightly so her hands could rest against his chest. The new angle allowed her to hit that tension-building spot with more pressure and regularity. Her mouth fell open with a gasp and as Michael began to feel the trembling in her thighs, he gently began to guide her hips with his hands. “Going to cum for me? Cum so hard I feel it on my skin for days?”

“Yeah,” Clara replied breathlessly as she used his guidance to start rutting against his stomach faster and faster, angling downwards to find that sweet spot to push her over the edge. “Oh God, Michael,” she whined. She was like a cat in heat, furiously looking for the relief of friction as she began to lose control of her own body. Seeing this as an opportunity to help her along, Michael slid a singular finger between her cheeks to gently trace her other hole, Clara falling forward at the act. A high-pitched squeal fell from her lips as every muscle in her body tightened then released. Her orgasmic tremors continued to wave through the muscles of her legs, her hips jolting back with a hiss as her exposed and sensitive clit rubbed against Michael’s arousal slicked stomach.

“Prettiest little thing in the whole world,” he mumbled into her hair as she nuzzled her nose against his neck.

“Should be enough there for you to have a taste.” He had been too focused on the beauty of orgasm that he had forgotten the entire point of this endeavor. Humming with satisfaction, Michael ran his hand along the wet skin and wrapped his lips around as many fingers as he could in order to coat every inch of his tongue with her essence.

“Thank you,” he breathed with a deep sigh of relief, his fingers dipping back down for a second helping. With her head rested on his chest it was almost as if she could hear the gears of his body slowing down to a relaxed hum as if her cum was the oil to keep his machine running smoothly.

“I’d do anything for you, Michael.” Just as he would for her. He had warned her many times that there might come a day when she was forced to pick a side, forced to watch him do something horrible or forced to step aside and let him fight. Clara had already decided within herself that she would always choose Michael. No matter what that entailed. But for now, she was content with loving him and taking care of him. The way a Queen does for her King.

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@aveiangdon

@langdvn

@langdonslove

#michael langdon #cody fern #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #american horror story apocalypse #duncan shepherd #jim mason

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