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staratinia · 4 months ago

Text

Handcuffed

This work contains smut - minors do not interact

Pairing: Mello x Fem!reader x Near

Synopsis: Mello and Near are handcuffed together and the cuffs will not come off unless certain specific circumstances occur...they require your assistance.

Warnings: Explicit smut

A/N: I know this is different.. I had to get creative. I felt a forced situation was the only way Mello and Near would ever do this together. For the anon who suggested poly- I hope you enjoy this.

wc: 1.8k

_________________________________________

You’re curled sideways in an office chair, one leg draped over the armrest, a cold energy drink sweating in your palm. The ops room is a wreck of cluttered desks, empty takeout boxes, loose wires, the smell of three different kinds of instant noodles clinging to the air like regret.

Mello’s pacing like he’s got a bomb ticking under his skin. Every few laps, he runs a hand through his messy blond hair like it personally offended him.

Near’s on the floor, cross-legged in a sea of puzzle pieces, holding a stylus between two fingers and methodically building a tower of numbered data cards. He hasn't looked up in at least forty-five minutes.

Matt’s the only one enjoying himself. He’s half-sprawled on a desk, red goggles pushed up to his forehead, Game Boy forgotten in his lap, a smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth as he digs through a dusty lockbox labeled ARCHIVE: CLASSIFIED – UNUSABLE ARTIFACTS.

“Hey,” he calls lazily. “You guys ever hear of ‘conflict-resolution cuffs’?”

Near doesn’t respond. Mello doesn’t stop pacing. “The fuck is that, a kink toy?”

Matt pulls something shiny from the box. Metal glints under the overheads—sleek cuffs, silver but inscribed with something that shimmers when he tilts them.

"Magical containment? Binding rituals? You know how they loved that esoteric bullshit"

Near speaks without looking up. “Most of the Archive is unstable or unproven. Do not engage with any items marked in red.”

“They weren’t red,” Matt says, squinting. “They were.... more of a soft rose gold.”

Mello mutters, “If this is another one of your dumbass jokes—”

“Relax.” Matt flicks the cuffs open one-handed, grinning. “They probably don’t even—”

He’s suddenly beside Near. Near looks up. First mistake. Matt snaps one cuff onto Near’s wrist with a sharp click.

“Matt.” Near’s voice doesn’t change, but his fingers freeze mid-stack.

Mello whirls. “Are you fucking kidding me—”

Before you can say a word, Matt turns and slaps the second cuff onto Mello’s wrist.

Click.

There’s a flash of cold light—like a camera bulb and static hitting skin—and then the air feels wrong. Heavier. You feel it. The room does. The whole dynamic shifts.

Mello’s hand twitches. The chain between their wrists is taut. Seamless. No lock. No hinge. No keyhole.

“Matt—” you start, rising.

Matt’s already backing toward the hallway, arms raised in surrender. “Hey, look. If it makes you feel better, I genuinely didn’t think it would work. I was just bored.”

“You moron!” Mello yells, yanking at the cuff. The chain doesn’t even creak. “You cuffed me to him?!”

“You’re welcome!” Matt’s already halfway out the door, grabbing his console on the way. “You two have unresolved tension! This is basically therapy!”

“This is magical fucking bondage therapy!” Mello shouts.

Matt winks at you before disappearing into the hallway. “Good luck, sweetheart. You’re their emotional support peacemaker now.”

The door slams shut.

You've been reading up. The archives are vast. Obscure tomes on magical devices. You finally find it—Soulbind Cuffs: R13 series. Intended as a last-resort bonding tool for high-stakes diplomacy or… couples therapy??

You read the fine print.

Cuffs will only disengage upon shared, consensual emotional alignment. Intimacy accelerates process. Completion of mutual release—emotional, physical—breaks the tether.

You reread that line five times.

Then look up. The boys are glaring at each other across the coffee table, one shared wrist between them. Mello’s sweating, hair stuck to his cheek. Near is tapping a Rubik’s Cube, unblinking.

You clear your throat.

“So. I figured it out.”

Two sets of eyes snap to you.

“They won’t come off unless you both—” you gesture vaguely “—achieve mutual climax. Together.”

Dead silence.

Mello goes red instantly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s magic!” you throw your hands up. “It doesn’t care about gender or preference or grudges. It wants to see two bonded souls climax together. Emotionally. Physically. Whatever. It's metaphysical synergy.”

Near’s head tilts. “A forced sexual ritual.”

“Don’t call it that,” you groan.

Mello’s voice drops. “We’re not doing it.”

Near nods. “Agreed.”

You sigh. “Then you’ll be like this forever.”

“I’d rather die,” Mello snarls.

“I’d rather wait,” Near says blandly.

You just shake your head.

Mello growls, yanks at the cuff again—still nothing.

You don’t speak either. You just walk toward them. Unhurried. Hands loose at your sides. You kneel in front of them—between them—rest your palms on your thighs. Steady. Present.

“I’m not saying you two have to fuck each other.” That gets their attention. You breathe. “But I can help. If you let me.”

Mello narrows his eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Near’s eyes are fixed on your mouth. “You believe... you could stimulate both of us to simultaneous orgasm?” His voice is calm, clinical, but there’s a flicker there. A pulse under his skin.

You sigh. “You’re the ones chained together. Unless you’ve got a spell I don’t know about, this is the only way.”

Mello rubs his face. “I can’t believe this is happening. With him.”

“I’m not pleased either,” Near replies, adjusting the angle of his knees.

“Oh shut up, you don’t feel anything.”

“I feel irritation...you are the source.”

_____________

The room’s warm. Lamp low. No one’s talking anymore. The air feels loaded, like static—like something wants to snap.

You’ve peeled your shirt off, unhurried, sitting cross-legged in front of them on the rug. Mello’s leaned back on his hands, arms tense. Near sits perfectly upright, but his jaw flexes.

They’re both watching you. Their bodies still separated by the inch-thick chain, wrists close but nothing else. They refuse to touch.

So you crawl forward.

“This isn’t about you two liking each other,” you murmur, reaching up to rest a hand on each of their thighs. “It’s about needing each other. Right now. In this moment. To get out of this.”

Mello doesn’t answer. He’s biting the inside of his cheek. Near nods once, robotically.

You start slow. Fingers first, brushing over the front of Mello’s pants. He’s already half-hard. No surprise. All that rage, tension, frustration—it’s sitting right there under the surface, waiting to break.

He lets out a breath through his nose, sharp and ragged. “Don’t tease.”

“I’m not,” you whisper.

You turn to Near, and his eyes are on your hands, blinking slow. His cock is delicate, flushed against pale thighs. You palm it gently. He exhales.

Mello scoffs. “Bet he’s never even been touched.”

“By people with manners? No,” Near replies evenly.

“Fucking hell—” Mello grits

“You’re really responsive,” you say, and smirk when he glares.

You turn to Near, he doesn’t even blink. Just watches the whole time as your hand slides against him. His breath stutters when your fingers close around him.

You stroke them both—two different bodies, two different pulses. Mello wants pressure. Speed. Your wrist aches trying to keep up. Near needs rhythm, precision. He twitches if you deviate. They’re both trying so hard not to show how much they want this.

“Still emotionless, Near?”

His voice is breathy, distant. “Physical responses are not proof of emotional depth.”

Mello barks a laugh. “You’re hard as fuck. What’s that—data collection?”

“Observation,” Near says, eyes fluttering as your thumb brushes his tip.

Two different rhythms. Mello fast, tight, frantic. Near slow and steady, your thumb circling the head of his cock in lazy little patterns that make him twitch. They’re both panting now, shoulders rising and falling like they’ve run miles.

Mello’s eyes are glued to your chest. “Fucking take it off.”

You smile and unhook your bra. Mello groans. Near reaches up like he’s unsure if he can, but you guide his hand to your breast and gasp as his thumb brushes your nipple.

Your moan gets both of them to freeze.

“She’s loud,” Mello mutters. “You like that?”

Near presses his palm against you. “It may assist with... alignment.”

Mello snorts. “Just admit it turns you on.”

“Admitting that would alter the results,” Near murmurs.

You laugh softly, then lean back to peel the rest of your clothes off.

When you’re fully naked, they stop arguing. They’re just watching. You crawl up into Near’s lap, straddle him, and reach back for Mello.

You guide him behind you, feel the burn in your thighs as you press back into his body. Mello groans as his cock glides between your cheeks, hands gripping your hips.

“Still want to kill each other?” you whisper.

Near is breathless. “Temporarily... distracted.”

Mello’s mouth is against your neck now. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”

You slide down onto Near first. His cock fills you, inch by inch, and his breath punches out of his lungs. He’s frozen beneath you, gripping your thighs like they’re lifelines. Then you brace yourself and reach back—

Mello pushes in slowly. Gritting his teeth. “Jesus, fuck—”

You’re full. Too full. Both of them buried deep in you, your whole body trembling as you try to breathe around the feeling. They don’t move. Just pant. Wait.

“Move,” Mello growls. “Please.”

You do. It starts slow—grinding your hips, feeling both of them rub against your walls, your insides pulsing around them. Mello thrusts once, sharp. You cry out. Near groans softly, his head tipped back.

You ride Near with long, rolling motions, your clit brushing against his stomach. Mello fucks into you harder now, faster, his hands sliding up your spine. One of his fingers tangles in your hair, pulling just enough to make your breath catch.

“You’re taking it,” he growls. “So fucking good.”

“She’s very warm,” Near says softly. “Tight. Applying correct amount of pressure.”

“You say that like you’re grading an assignment,” Mello snaps, but his voice cracks on the last word. He’s close. So close.

You’re shaking now—full, stretched to your limits, Near seated deep inside you while Mello drives in from behind, his pace steady but cruel, testing your limits.

You’re not just between them—you’re the bridge. Their bodies only joined through yours. And they’re not giving in easily.

“I don’t see how this is supposed to help,” Mello growls against your shoulder. His breath is ragged, cock twitching inside you with every grind. “He’s not even touching you right.”

Near blinks up at you from below, cheeks flushed, hands tightening on your waist. “Incorrect. Her pupils dilate when I stroke her clit counterclockwise.”

You laugh through a gasp. “He’s not wrong.”

Near’s thumb slides between you, slow and exact, pressing just under your clit in a way that makes your body jerk. Mello’s grip tightens. You feel the cuff pulse with magic, heat flaring between their wrists like it knows they’re teetering.

You roll your hips forward, squeezing both of them from inside. Mello groans. “Shit—don’t do that—”

You smile, breathless. “You close already?”

“I’m not—” he growls, but he thrusts harder, desperate to regain control.

Near’s voice is thin now. “I believe your pelvic rhythm is faltering.”

You moan, sharp, overstimulated now. Near’s cock presses deliciously against that tender spot inside you, and Mello’s rutting deep, his thrusts rough enough to make you tremble.

“Come on Mello, prove you’re better,” you whisper. “Fuck me harder.”

That does it.

Mello grabs your hips and slams into you, rhythm quickening, chasing something now. You gasp, clutching Near’s shoulders, your body caught between them like a live wire. The air smells like sweat and sex and magic burning out.

Your moan cuts them off—high and broken, thighs trembling as your orgasm threatens again, creeping up, so damn close.

You clench around both of them. They both twitch. You slow your movement just enough to make them groan.

“Don’t stop,” Mello growls, panting now. “I swear to god—”

“She’s edging us,” Near says, tone somehow still flat.

“She’s gonna kill us.”

You’re close. But you don’t let go yet.

You slow it down again—grind forward, rolling your hips just right. Near twitches inside you, whimpering, his forehead pressed to your chest.

You glance over your shoulder. Mello’s watching you both like he’s been denied air. You lean back into him, and he licks a stripe up your spine. He’s losing control. You can feel it.

“She’s gonna cum,” he pants. “You can feel it. She’s—fuck—she’s squeezing so hard—”

“We have to time it,” Near gasps.

“I know.”

Mello’s hand snakes around you, joining Near’s, both thumbs pressing your clit now in rhythm. You scream—raw and real—as your orgasm surges up, almost there—

But you don’t fall- Not yet. You ride the edge. Over and over. Your body clenching, thighs shaking, everything strung tight as they both work you toward it. One more second. One more thrust. One more slow, circling press—

And then Mello snaps.

“Now—fuck—now—”

Near arches under you, voice breaking.

And you let go.

It hits like fire—every nerve bursting open, you're clamping down, you scream—legs shaking, body convulsing around them as you lock down hard, milking them. as both of them cry out, twitching inside you, pouring into you, their hands locking on your body as they lose everything.

The cuffs explode.

A flash of white light. A high-pitched crack. Metal hitting the floor with twin clinks.

You collapse, limp and slick with sweat, breath heaving in your throat.

Mello slumps forward, panting against your back.

Near goes still beneath you, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling fast, but even.

Nobody speaks. Until—

“You edged me for fifteen minutes,” Mello says, voice hoarse.

You smile. “You needed the attitude adjustment.”

“She’s... efficient,” Near murmurs.

You roll off them with a groan. “I need water”

No one moves for a while. Then Mello says, “You’re seriously not gonna look at me right now, are you?”

“I’m preserving what little sanity I have left,” Near murmurs.

“You literally came while I was inside her.”

“So did you.”

“I hate this.”

From the hallway, you hear:

“Yo, did it work?” Matt’s voice. “Are the chains off?”

Mello throws the broken cuff at him. “I hope your controller gets stuck on ‘up.’”

Matt grins and ducks. You laugh. Your thighs hurt. Your whole body aches. But the cuffs are gone. “Next time he plays matchmaker, I’m burning the Archive.”

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