#wait actually looking again. HES HANDCUFFED . . . ???

[wonderxshows]

tbh im so obsessed w how different the vibes are between 3rd anni and 4th anni cards LOL

[sugoroo]

GOOD COP, BAD COP!

ʚɞ summary: you get arrested and are determined not to reveal a single piece of information about your associates. that is, until the two officers interrogating you start employing... unique tactics to get you to talk.

warnings: fem!reader x choso kamo & toji fushiguro, police officer!au, fingering, oral (f receiving), spitting, praise kink, voyeurism, leg humping, power play, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.0k

it was a simple job — or atleast, it was supposed to be.

it began with the same simple plan as any other low stakes bank heist.

get in, get the money, get out.

but unfortunately, this time, someone in your little group decided to snitch - alerting the authorities of the exact location and time of the job before it even began.

so while you were in the middle of stuffing wad after wad of cash into a duffle bag, the last thing you were expecting was for a bunch of police officers to come barging into the bank, guns raised and badges being waved.

well shit.

silently cursing whichever person from your group that informed them, you made a break for it, darting towards the back entrance with the duffle bag clumsily slung across your shoulder.

but you didn't make it far.

the rest of your group managed to escape the bank in time, piling into the awaiting getaway car, but of course, you had to get stopped by a large hand wrapping around your wrist. you desperately tried to tug it free, but their grip was firm; almost frighteningly so.

"shit. guys, wait for—!" you attempted to yell, but the sound of the engine revving as the car dashed away interrupted the sentence, almost as if it was mocking you.

"looks like your little friends left you behind, doll." a low voice you assume belongs to the hand around your wrist rumbles from behind you, the amusement in his tone clearly at your expense.

"fuck you." you spit out, still stubbornly trying to tug your arm from his iron grip even though it's abundantly clear that it's a fruitless endeavour.

"ah ah," the voice chides, yanking a pair of handcuffs from his pocket with his other hand and effortlessly clicking them in place over your wrist, then doing the same with the other, despite your relentless struggling. "an attitude like that won't get you anywhere now."

with your movements now severely restricted by the harsh metal of the cuffs, you have no choice but to comply as the police officer manhandles you, roughly spinning you around until you come face to face with him.

unsurprisingly, the man's cocky expression fits his voice. his lips, which have a noticeable scar running down the side, are pulled up into a smug smirk as he looks down at you, and some messy strands of black hair are falling into his eyes.

"got nothin' else to say?" he snorts, his smirk only widening when he notices the way your features contort into a scowl — clearly fighting the urge to snap back at him again. "yeah, that's what i thought."

it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to list off every single curse word you know as the officer practically drags you through the bank, carelessly shoving you into the back of his squad car.

so much for a simple job.

so that's how you manage to find yourself slumped against an uncomfortable plastic chair in an interrogation room at the local police station, handcuffed to a desk.

it feels like it's been hours since the arrest, but there's no way of telling how much time has actually passed in this frustratingly empty room since there isn't even a clock to decorate the plain white walls.

when you'd first been left in here, you'd been angry.

angry at whichever member of your group decided to snitch on the operation, angry at your accomplices for leaving you there in the bank (although you probably would've done the same if the roles were reversed) and angry at the irritatingly smug officer who arrested you.

but eventually, that anger started to slowly but surely fade away —instead replaced by an overwhelmingly painful sense of boredom as you sat here with nothing to do.

you resorted to counting the tiles on the ceiling above you in a last ditch attempt at keeping yourself atleast somewhat amused. what number were you up to again? oh, right. eighty two... eighty three—

"hey, hey! s-sorry i'm so late." a voice hurriedly announces as the person it belongs to clumsily stumbles into the room, rambling about something to do with a coffee machine malfunction as he slides into the seat opposite yours.

slowly casting your eyes down from the ceiling to take in the police officer now sat in front of you, you're relieved to realize that it's not the same one from earlier. no - the difference between them is almost comical.

this one has dark tresses of hair pulled up into two messy pigtails, a small tattoo inked across the bridge of his nose, and his pale hands are shaking on the table where they rest. he seems nervous — almost as if he's the one about to be interrogated and not you.

"u-uh, yeah, as i was saying..." the man continues after a few moments of squirming under your gaze, pushing a mug across the table. "i thought i'd get you some coffee to help you feel more at ease. but the settings on that pesky machine are so complicated! i-i'm new here, by the way."

"i gathered." you murmur with a small, bemused smile pulling at your lips in spite of the situation you find yourself in. you then glance down at the mug, raising an eyebrow — it's not like you can pick it up and bring it to your mouth with your hands cuffed to the desk.

"o-oh, shit. i didn't think of that," the officer curses under his breath, grasping the mug in two trembling hands and thrusting it towards you. the movement jostles the liquid slightly, causing some of it to drip onto the table. "here."

you lean forward to reach the outstretched mug, taking a small sip of the warm liquid and resisting the urge to wince at the overwhelmingly bitter taste; this guy really wasn't joking about not being able to use he coffee machine properly.

"thanks." you push out with a somewhat strained smile, not wanting to appear ungrateful for the kind gesture. he nods quickly, seemingly pleased by your manners, placing the mug back down on the desk and pulling some files from his bag.

"so..." he begins, fanning the various folders across the desk and squinting down at them, as if trying to make sense of what's in front of him. "oh, wait! i forgot to introduce myself. i'm officer kamo — but you can call me choso, i-if you want, that is."

"right. well, it's nice to meet you, choso." you respond carefully, silently observing the way the apples of his cheeks flush a subtle shade of pink at the sound of his name leaving your lips. interesting.

"y-you too, um..." choso stammers awkwardly, glancing down and reading your name aloud from one of the files. "so, it says here you were the only suspect apprehended from the group who attempted to rob a local bank earlier today. is that correct?"

"it is." you mutter, pushing at the bed of one of your nails as some of the anger from earlier surfaces again. why did it have to be you who got caught? you should be at home rolling around in a heap of cash right about now, not sitting in a sterile interrogation room answering questions.

"i see," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck in a clear sign of discomfort as he takes note of the sudden defensiveness in your demeanour. "well, um, i was just wondering— i mean, i have to ask you... is there any information you can give us regarding your accomplices?"

your head snaps up at this, a flicker of uncertainty alighting in your chest. obviously, you were anticipating this question - but hearing it said out loud is an entirely different feeling.

the small part of you that still burns with anger wants to spill everything, get your fellow group members roped into the same predicament as you as payback for them abandoning you at the bank. but the other, more rational part of you, knows that nothing good can come of snitching on them. it would only serve to get you in even more trouble; just not with the law.

"no. i'm sorry, but i don't have anything to tell you." you lie through your teeth, toying with the edge of the metal handcuffs where they're digging into your wrist.

"a-are you sure about that?" choso prompts, seeming slightly unconvinced. he's trying to catch your eye, tilting his head towards you. "names, addresses, vehicle numberplates... anything?"

you subtly clench your jaw, shaking your head from side to side. as strong as the urge is to supply him with the information he wants, deep down you know it would only make things worse for you in the long run.

choso huffs out a small breath of air, fidgeting in his seat as he tries to remember his interrogation training. he may be new to this — but he's not oblivious. he can tell you're not being truthful, and although he understands the reasons behind that, he needs this intel if he wants to hand over a satisfactory report to his boss at the end of the day.

"if you're worried about the consequences of confessing, we can always put you into witness protection." he tries, his voice soft and earnest. it's clear he's not putting on an act, he does mean what he says. but that does nothing to change your mind.

"i don't have anything to tell you." you repeat without hesitation, your blank expression betraying nothing of your inner turmoil. you have to keep silently reminding yourself — it's not worth the risk to snitch.

"alright." choso sighs in response, wringing his hands atop the table as he seemingly tries to think of another approach to get you to talk. he has a feeling none of the other methods from his basic training are going to work with you. "um... how about i offer you something in return for your cooperation?"

"like what?" you mutter cautiously, fully intending on rejecting whatever it is he has to suggest.

"well, let's see," he hums thoughtfully, glancing back down at the files before returning his gaze to you. "how about a shorter sentence? i think we can do that."

this makes you pause — if only for a moment. a shorter sentence does sound tempting, but you can't let the idea weaken your resolve. after all, once you got out, there would be hell to pay for snitching. "less jail time isn't going to change the fact that i don't have anything to tell you."

choso's shoulders visibly sag with disappointment at your continued refusal to give up any information; he really thought that suggestion would have swayed you. "o-okay. so how about something else then?"

now that catches your curiosity.

because what else could he possibly offer you aside from a reduced sentence? that was usually the absolute best bargaining chip police officers were allowed to utilize in interrogations — you'd seen enough tv shows to know that.

he perks up when he notices the subtle signs of increased interest in your demeanour, leaning forward in his seat with clear eagerness. "okay! you're curious, that's good. s-so... what i'm suggesting is... um..."

you raise an eyebrow at his sudden hesitation, noting the way his eyes dart away from yours and his already pinkened cheeks flush further. "what you're suggesting is...?" you prompt.

"that... um... i—" choso tries again, anxiously digging his nails into his palm. he can't believe he's actually going to say something like this out loud, but he needs to get this information if he wants to make good progress at his new job. "i s-service you."

what?

you have to hold back a choked sound somewhere between a snort and a gasp at his words, your eyebrows raising so high they almost disappear above your hairline.

hearing this timid-looking, blushing rookie police officer say something so... suggestive was definitely not the way you expected this interrogation to go.

it was like the start of some cheap porno.

"are you serious?" is all you can manage to mutter, leaning forward in your seat slightly to get a better look at his expression, searching for any signs that he's just playing with you; maybe trying to get you to lower your guard so that you're more likely to spill intel.

"...yes," comes choso's meek reply, his voice so soft and quiet it's hardly audible, despite the lack of any other sounds in the room. he looks like he's about to die of embarrassment, his flush spreading down his neck and disappearing below the neckline of his uniform.

"i don't see how that's supposed to get me to supply you with information that i don't have." you huff bluntly, keeping up the act as best you can; but you can't deny there's a small part of you that's curious as to what he would actually do if you were to agree to the proposition.

he finally meets your gaze again at this, the look in his eyes telling you point-blank that he knows you're holding back the truth from him. and he knows that you know he knows.

it's a stalemate.

"h-how about..." he mumbles after a long stretch of silence, rolling a dark strand of his hair between his fingers nervously. "how about i just try something? you don't have to agree to anything yet. i-i just want to try."

again, choso manages to capture your curiosity.

he's now basically offering to please you for nothing in return — although he's obviously hoping he'll be able to get some information out of you eventually, maybe during or after this 'service'.

you wish you could say you weren't tempted by his offer. but as a criminal, most of the people you associate with are disgusting lowlifes who you wouldn't even dream of letting in your bed.

needless to say, it's been a long while since another person brought you pleasure.

"so if, hypothetically, i was to say yes, i wouldn't have to actually agree to anything yet?" you repeat cautiously, your demeanour still guarded. you can't afford to let him get the upper hand here, no matter what happens.

"y-yes," choso nods in response, seeming slightly pleased by the fact you haven't outright rejected his suggestion or threatened to report him to one of his superiors. "hypothetically." he adds, for good measure.

another few moments of silence pass where you mentally weigh up your options. you come to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to go along with his little proposition for now, as long as you make sure you keep your guard up throughout. right?

"okay." you hum, leaning back in your chair and observing the police officer before you. he seems to be trying to hold back his excitement at having won you over, but then you can see the exact moment it dawns on him what it is he's actually signed himself up for.

choso swallows thickly, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he stands up from his chair, legs visibly trembling in his dark uniform trousers as he awkwardly shuffles closer to your side of the desk.

you open your mouth to speak, but whatever you were about to say instantly leaves your mind when he sinks to his knees before you, effortlessly moving your chair to the side so that he's positioned directly between your legs.

"i know you said that you're new and all," you mutter with slight amusement as you watch him look up at you with those wide eyes from where he's knelt on the floor. "but i'm pretty sure most police officers don't do this for suspects."

"i-i know that," he huffs sheepishly in response, the tips of his ears reddening to match the shade of his face. "but i couldn't think of any other ways to get you to talk."

"who said i'm going to talk?" you murmur, enjoying the way his bottom lip juts out into a little involuntary pout in response to your words. "i didn't actually agree to say anything, remember?"

choso doesn't reply this time, seeming to have come to terms with the fact that he can't convince you with his words alone; this situation clearly requires him to use his actions.

the problem is, he's never actually performed said actions on a woman before. sure, he's watched his fair share of porn — but he knows that doesn't compare to the real thing.

he's just going to have to wing it.

he brings a shaky hand up to one of your legs, slowly trailing his fingers up the skin there. it's soft to the touch; much softer than he expected. he had this stereotypical notion imbedded in his head that a criminal's skin would be rough and hardened - but not yours, clearly.

choso can feel your eyes on him the entire time his digits travel up the length of your leg, can tell that you're curious about exactly what he's going to do as his so-called service to you.

he couldn't tell you even if you asked — he's just going to make it up as he goes along and hope he does atleast something right that might get you to spill some information while you're lost in the throes of pleasure.

eventually, his fingers reach the hem of your skirt, and he pauses for a moment to look up at you, as if asking for silent permission. you nod with a small jerk of your head, so he steels himself before continuing.

he lifts up the material of your skirt slightly, taking a quick peek underneath to see what he was to work with. and oh, he almost forgets that he's supposed to be the one holding the power in this situation when he catches a glimpse of your covered cunt.

your panties aren't anything special — since you obviously weren't expecting to end up in this position today. but choso couldn't care less, his closed mouth filling up with salvia as he stares at the small wet patch forming on the front of the fabric.

you can't help but huff out a small laugh, the sound halfway between bemusement and slight embarrassment as the police officer before you just kneels and stares between your legs, the silence in the room so thick you could hear a pin drop.

"trying to make me uncomfortable by staring isn't going to make me tell you anything, you know." you mutter with eyes narrowed in suspicion, causing his head to dart up in surprise.

"w-what? oh... um, sorry. i didn't mean to stare." he rasps hurriedly, forcibly shaking himself out of his daze. he knows you're right; he's not going to get anywhere by just kneeling here completely motionless like a statue.

he needs to get to work.

choso starts by brushing a gentle, barely-there kiss against your inner thigh, his lips soft as they press against your skin. it feels a little too intimate for what is supposed to be an interrogation tactic, but right now, he can't bring himself to care.

you feel a small shiver ripple down your spine as he leaves a trail of sweet kisses up to the apex of your thighs, his head disappearing underneath your skirt with just the tips of his dark pigtails peeking out.

this entire situation is so overwhelmingly surreal — just hours ago you were being arrested, and now you're in an interrogation room with a pretty rookie police officer inches away from making contact your clothed core.

what a strange turn of events.

your sink your teeth into your lower lip once you feel his breath fan across your panties, attempting to hide any sounds that threaten to escape. you have to make sure not to let on how much you're enjoying this - have to make sure you don't lower your guard and accidentally let any information spill.

choso presses a chaste kiss to your covered mound, and it's all you can do to hold back a little gasp at the action. he's just so sickeningly gentle with you; like he's handling his lover and not a criminal under arrest for robbing a bank.

a soft rumble, almost a groan, comes from under your skirt, the sound vibrating against your skin as it leaves his lips. you can't see his face, but if you could, you'd see how drunk he is on you already — just from the miniscule taste of you he's gotten through your panties.

"h-hah," he breathes quietly, mostly to himself, flicking his tongue out gently against the now-dampened fabric to get a better taste. "i never thought a criminal would taste so sweet."

fuck.

those simple words shoot straight down to your cunt, causing a small gush of arousal to trickle out into your underwear. you're sure he can feel it against his tongue, and you wince. it's going to be more difficult than anticipated to keep your composure if he's gonna keep saying things like that.

choso gasps slightly, the sound quickly morphing into a satisfied hum when your syrupy slick seeps through the fabric and onto his awaiting tongue. despite never having done this before, he's sure no one else could possibly hold a candle to how delicious you taste.

he's in trouble.

at this rate, he's going to be the one falling apart first instead of you; he can already feel himself growing hard in his slacks, pushing against the restricting material.

gently pulling your soiled panties to the side, he swipes his tongue through your glistening folds, gathering more of your juices on his tastebuds. he's not sure what else to do to please you, all he knows is that he wants more and more of that sweet sap.

choso is so lost in 'interrogating' you with his mouth, and you're so lost in trying not to forget about the consequences of snitching and just tell him everything you know, that neither of you notice when the door creaks open.

"well, well, well... i assign you to your first solo interrogation—" an irritatingly familiar voice grunts out, the sound of the door clicking shut sealing him in the room with you. "and where do i find you? with your tongue on the suspect's cunt, kamo."

it's him. the way-too-smug officer with the scar on his lip who arrested you back at the bank, who fastened the handcuffs so tight the harsh metal dug into the skin of your wrists. who simply laughed mockingly at your struggles to break free. him.

choso breaks free from between your legs so fast he probably gets whiplash, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed a deep shade of red as he peeks out from under your skirt. he resembles a deer frozen in headlights.

"oho, don't go stoppin' on my account." the other officer chuckles deeply, sauntering closer and grasping one of choso's messy pigtails. he uses the grip to push him back under your skirt, forcibly pressing his face against your needy flesh.

choso whines, a pathetic, drawn out sound, feeling conflicted. he's unsure if he's supposed to stop or continue; unsure if his boss's words are meant as sarcasm or not. is this some sort of test from his superior? he doesn't want to risk losing his job, not when he worked so hard to get here.

"c-captain fushiguro... i'm sorry. but i-i don't understand." he mumbles shakily, his meek voice vibrating directly against your core.

"tch. thought i told you before to j's call me toji, didn't i?" the smug officer — toji, apparently— huffs in irritation, practically ignoring your presence entirely as he shoves choso's face right into your pulsing heat. "now get back to fuckin' work. that's an order, rookie."

unable to resist the authoritative tone of his voice, choso's tongue peeks back out from between his lips and swipes through your sopping folds again, his mind quickly going pleasantly blank a second time from your sweet saccharine taste.

toji's eyes then meet yours for the first time since he stepped into the interrogation room, seemingly seeing effortlessly past your careful blank expression. he smirks, in the same annoyingly smug way as he had when he arrested you.

he knows that while his subordinate may be trying his best, the small amount of stimulation from the inexperienced man isn't anywhere near enough to properly please you.

and if they want their stubborn little suspect to break, you need to be more than properly pleased.

"y'er not gonna get her to reveal any damn information like that, kid." toji grunts in a mix of amusement and annoyance, tugging choso back by his pigtail and causing him to whimper pathetically. "d'ya even know where her clit is?"

"c-clit?" he repeats timidly, glancing between your pretty pussy and his boss's unimpressed face, as if unsure which to give his full attention.

"yes, clit. jesus, what are they teachin' you youngsters these days?" toji mutters disapprovingly, snaking his free hand underneath your skirt to point directly at your puffy little bud without much trouble. "should be right... there."

you can't stop the sharp gasp that escapes your lips when he pushes down on your sensitive clit like a button, snapping your head to the side to send a sharp glare in his direction.

"aww, look at that," he coos mockingly, removing his finger as quickly as he had placed it there and returning your scowl with his trademark smug grin. "little lady still has 'er attitude, i see."

"fuck you." you hiss out, not appreciating where this is going. the sweet rookie officer servicing you was one thing, but the infuriating one who arrested you joining in? now that's an entirely different situation.

"ah ah, doll," toji hums, waving the finger he just had pressed against your clit in front of your thoroughly irritated face. "'m not here for that, unfortunately. just thought i'd give kamo here a little... helping hand, 's all."

"well i don't want your helping hand." you scoff in response, but despite your desperate struggling against the handcuffs that still have you chained to the desk, you can't do anything to slap his hand away when it returns between your legs.

he ignores your protesting movements completely, angling his face down to glance at choso, who is watching his superior's pudgy finger rubbing teasingly slow circles on your clit with rapt attention, seemingly tuning out the bickering between the two of you.

"y'see now, rookie?

choso nods a little too enthusiastically, and the moment toji removes his finger, his tongue is back on your cunt. but this time, it's circling messily around your little bud, his movements sloppy and uncoordinated.

a small moan escapes your lips unwarranted, and you instantly snap your eyes shut in embarrassment — it's becoming increasingly harder to keep your priorities straight with these two extremely attractive police officers attempting to wreck your resolve.

"yeahhh, she likes that," toji leers mockingly, rubbing his fat thumb against the edge of your thigh just to work you up even further. "dontcha, pretty?"

"shut... up." you push out through clenched teeth, fighting not to lose yourself in the sensations they're providing you with. you have to stay strong. you won't become a snitch.

he only snorts in response, pulling his thumb back and giving you a brief moment of relief before swiftly slapping a hand against your folds, the obscene wet squelching sound echoing throughout the room. "don't tell me what to do, girl."

"t-toji," choso whines, pulling his tongue from your clit and glancing down at your twitching flesh from the slap, which he starts peppering with gentle kisses in an attempt to soften the blow. "that was mean."

"oh, that was mean, was it?" he scoffs, rolling his eyes and giving the other man's pigtail a sharp tug as punishment for his words. "what would've been mean is if i fired your scrawny ass the second i got in here for fraternizing with a suspect. but i didn't, did i?"

"n-no... you didn't." choso murmurs meekly in response, his eyes wide and pleading at the prospect of losing his job. he quickly attaches his mouth back to where toji showed him your clit is, suckling gently in an attempt to please both you and his stern boss.

"now thaaat's more like it," toji croons lowly, his voice rich and gruff as he pats the top of choso's hair like he's a well-trained dog. "good boy."

a quiet mewl spills from his busy mouth in response to the praise, his hips weakly bucking against your leg as he tries desperately not to let himself fall apart without getting the information they need from you first.

toji notices, because of course he does, and he wraps a hand around your chin and forces you to look down at the pathetic display below you. "look at him, pretty. y'got him humping your leg like a damn bitch in heat. pussy must be sweet as candy."

"i-it is— shit, it is." comes choso's slurred mumble, popping his mouth from your clit with an lewd pop! before delving his tongue back between your sweetened folds. he may be inexperienced, but he's a quick learner.

"'s that right?" he chuckles, tilting his head to the side. he's speaking to his subordinate, but his eyes never leave yours. it makes you shudder involuntarily, his smirk stretching wider when he takes note of your reactions to him. "lemme get a lil' taste for myself then, kid."

choso obediently moves to the side to make room for toji, but when he doesn't join him on his knees, he looks up with an adorably puzzled expression across his features.

his boss moves his hand from the other man's pigtail down to grasp his chin, roughly pulling him up into a bruising kiss before he can even think of uttering a single protest.

choso whimpers helplessly into the kiss, not bothering to fight back at all as toji sucks lewdly on his tongue, stealing your sweetened juices straight from his subordinate's mouth.

he smacks his scarred lips once he pulls back, humming in satisfaction as his eyes return to you. "rookie's right; that's one ripe cunt y'got there. too bad it's wasted on a damn criminal."

his words make a mixture of arousal and annoyance flare up in the pit of your stomach, another small trickle of wetness gushing out of your core to pool on the plastic chair beneath you as you glare up at him.

"you're deluded if you think i'm telling you anything when you talk to me like that." you spit out, the look on your face one of pure disdain, despite your situation.

"oh, dollface," toji chuckles deeply, ignoring the squirming choso beside him and leaning down so his face is level with yours. "you're not gonna tell us just anythin'. you're gonna tell us everything."

before you can scoff right in his face, choso has been shoved back between your legs by his hair yet again, the feeling of his sweet, warm mouth sucking on your clit making your eyes almost cross in your head.

taking your distracted state as an opportunity to rile you up even further, toji shoves a pudgy thumb between your lips, pressing it right to the back of your throat so you can't even think of talking back anymore.

your resolve is hanging by a very, very thin thread.

despite how much you despise toji, you instinctively start to suckle on his thick digit, too blissed out from choso's sloppy ministrations to bother with how shameless you must look right now.

"mhmm, that's a good girl," he coos mockingly, swirling his thumb around inside your mouth. as composed as he seems, the feeling of your warm, soft little lips around his digit is making him extremely hard in his slacks. "knew y'had some obedience in ya somewhere."

choso mewls again when he feels your spongy walls fluttering around his tongue when he slides it inside your needy hole, assuming that must mean you're close to the edge; close to spilling the information they need.

instinctively, he speeds up his movements, fucking you on his tongue in such a lewd yet somehow gentle way as he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from squirming on the chair.

but suddenly, just when you can feel the coil of an impending orgasm building up in the depths of your stomach, all the stimulation is gone.

toji's thumb leaves your mouth with a wet pop!, and choso gets yanked away from your core with his mouth open and drooling like a dog.

"what the fuck?" you pant out breathlessly, your eyes half-lidded as you glance between them quizzically. choso looks just as confused as you, wriggling against toji's grip on his hair in a fruitless attempt to get back to your sweet pussy.

"what? y'thought we were g'nna let ya cum that easily?" toji chuckles richly, a wide grin stretching across his scarred lips as he easily restrains a rabid choso with one strong hand. "nah, girl. y'gotta tell us what we wanna know first."

shit.

you should've known this would happen. to begin with, you were sure you could manage to keep yourself together if it was just choso servicing you. but now, with your body writhing and desperate for release and it was just toji standing in your way to stop you from getting it?

you were surely about to break.

"what's the matter?" toji croons, his voice dripping with mock concern as he thumbs at your lower lip with his free hand. "lost y'er attitude, pretty?"

you could just stay quiet. refuse to talk — get sent to a jailcell with your panties soiled and your cunt still throbbing with need.

or, you could tell them what they wanted to know. spill the beans on your shitty team members who had abandoned you and were probably rolling around in heaps of cash right now at your hideout without a care in the world. and in return, get your first proper orgasm in a long, long time.

you already know which option you're going to choose.

your voice quiet, you mutter the numberplate of the getaway car your group had used to escape the bank. it's all they need to find your associates; a little tracking using the police system and they can easily decipher the exact location of the vehicle.

toji grins, reaching up to give your head a condescending little pat as a reward while he releases his grip on choso with the other hand, causing his subordinate to dive face first back into your needy pussy.

a shameless moan escapes from deep in your throat, your hips weakly grinding up into choso's face as he feasts on you like it's the last meal of his life. you can feel him smiling happily against you, clearly pleased his method of interrogation worked out in the end, even if he did need his boss's help.

you end up hurling into an overwhelming orgasm when toji spits down onto your cunt, the salvia being swiftly lapped up by choso's eager tongue without a moments hesitation.

your entire body convulses against the plastic chair, the handcuffs digging into your wrists as you writhe and squirm, shameless mewls and cries escaping your lips as you attempt to come down from your high.

you can't even remember the last time you came that hard.

"aww, y'didn't even make 'er squirt, kamo," toji huffs in overexaggerated disappointment, causing the other man's swollen lips to form into a confused little pout. "dontcha think she deserves a proper reward for givin' us the information we were after?"

"squirt? how do i make her do that?"

"tch. damn clueless rookie," he huffs, shoving choso away from between your legs and sinking to his own knees before you. "let me show ya."

suddenly, the consequences of snitching don't seem so important anymore.

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

[shaiyasstuff]

petty | sylus

synopsis : You thought a harmless prank—some red dye, a little glitter—would be funny. But Sylus, your cold, calculating boyfriend, doesn’t get mad. He gets petty.

content : fluff, chaos, N109 Zone au, just sylus being petty af, imagine: rom-com and slapstick comedy

writer’s note : i had this sitting in my drafts for so long LOL

You have no idea how you ended up here.

It was just a silly prank. One you decided—no, more like bullied—into pulling on Sylus.

Luke had that look in his eye, Kieran had that grin, and between the two of them, you’d made a series of very poor decisions.

It started out harmless.

Overheating the dryer until his clothes shrunk just enough to make him glare at his reflection in irritation.

Switching out his toothpaste with mint chip ice cream—cold, foamy, oddly sweet.

Juvenile, yes, but survivable.

But then Luke, bored of mild chaos, decided to up the ante.

Red dye. In Sylus’ face wash.

You should’ve stopped him.

You really should’ve.

Now you’re backed up against the cold steel wall of the corridor outside your shared quarters.

Sylus stands in front of you, arms braced on either side of your head, caging you in. His body radiates heat like he’s just stepped out of hell itself.

And his face?

Still damp.

Streaked red.

A slow, uneven flush blooming down his jaw and neck like a war paint disaster.

You press your lips together to stifle the laugh climbing your throat.

Not because you’re afraid—well, okay, maybe a little—but because if you so much as snort, you know he’ll make you regret it.

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you.

That unreadable, razor-edged stare.

Like he’s measuring the weight of your existence against the trouble you’re worth.

“Sylus,” you start, trying for innocent. “It was—”

“A prank,” he finishes for you, voice low, smooth. The kind of calm that usually precedes mass destruction. “I gathered.”

You open your mouth again, but the words die as he leans in closer, the tips of his silver hair grazing your forehead. His breath ghosts against your cheek.

“You find this funny?” he murmurs, voice like smoke and ice. “My face. My dignity.”

You hold your breath, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“I mean,” you squeak, “you do pull off crimson rather well…”

He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t smile.

He just tilts his head slightly, gaze trailing down to your lips.

“I see,” he says.

You swallow.

“Sylus?”

He shifts forward, just enough that your bodies nearly touch, and then—click.

You glance down. He’s handcuffed your wrist to the pipe behind you.

One-handed. Effortless.

“What—wait, Sylus!”

He steps back, unhurried, brushing red-streaked water off his jaw with the back of his hand. He looks so composed now, it’s almost unfair.

“I’ll be in the lab,” he says casually, already turning away. “Don’t worry. Luke and Kieran are next. But you…”

He pauses at the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, “You can stay there and think about what you’ve done.”

“Sylus.”

“I’ll come back when I’ve decided how to retaliate.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re not serious—!”

He disappears around the corner, his footsteps fading.

You stare after him, wrist tugging against the cuff. “You petty, beautiful menace!”

And somewhere down the hall, you swear you hear him laugh.

You struggle against the pipe for a solid five minutes.

Nothing.

Sylus had apparently decided that if he was going to cuff you, it would be with reinforced titanium-grade handcuffs.

Because of course he would.

You’re still trying to twist your wrist free when two familiar figures round the corner, arguing loudly.

“—I told you he’d murder us, Kieran.”

“No, you said he’d probably murder us. I figured we had a 20% survival rate if we ran fast enough—oh.”

They freeze when they see you.

You, handcuffed to a wall like some criminally adorable hostage. Hair slightly tousled.

A vein twitching in your temple.

Luke whistles low. “Damn. He actually cuffed you?”

“What was your first clue, Sherlock?” you snap, yanking on the cuff. “The literal metal restraint on my wrist or the rage in my eyes?”

Kieran winces. “Hey, hey, don’t be mad at us—we didn’t put the dye in the face wash.”

“You told Luke to do it!”

Luke, affronted, points at Kieran. “You told me you cleared it with her!”

“I said it would be funny! That’s not the same thing!”

You groan and let your head thump back against the wall. “I’m going to kill both of you. Slowly. With a spoon.”

Luke bites back a grin. “I don’t think Sylus is done with you yet.”

“Un-cuff me before I scream loud enough to summon the Onychinus agents.”

Kieran rummages through his pockets. “You think he left a key?”

“Oh yeah,” you deadpan. “I’m sure Sylus, the most paranoid man alive, just happened to leave a key to his special-grade cuffs on me.”

Luke pulls something out of his jacket and grins. “Good thing I have my trusty lockpick set.”

You squint at him. “Why do you have that?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

Kieran leans in beside him, watching like this is a group project. “Careful, if you scratch her wrist again she’s going to throw you into traffic.”

“I will throw you into traffic,” you mutter.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Kieran beams.

“Touch me and I’ll break your fingers.”

Luke finally clicks the lock open with a satisfying snap. Your wrist comes free, and you stretch it, rubbing the sore spot with a glare that could melt steel.

“Thanks,” you say flatly. “Now run.”

“Run?” Luke blinks.

“Yes. Run. Before he comes back.”

The overhead lights flicker.

The three of you freeze.

“…That’s him, isn’t it?” Kieran whispers.

You look up slowly, the temperature in the corridor dropping by a few ominous degrees.

“I think he’s coming to check if I’ve learned my lesson,” you murmur.

Luke’s already halfway down the hall. “NOPE. I’M OUT—”

Kieran grabs your hand and drags you after him. “We live in fear now. This is our life.”

Behind you, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the corridor.

And somewhere between breathless laughter and panic, you realise, this isn’t over.

Not even close.

You bolt through the corridor with Luke and Kieran like you’re fleeing an exploding reactor.

“He’s definitely tracking us,” you gasp.

“He has cameras everywhere!” Kieran hisses. “We’re screwed!”

You dive into the living quarters and slam the door shut behind you. Luke immediately ducks behind the couch. Kieran throws himself dramatically into the pantry.

You stand there for a beat, hands on your hips.

“This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

“You’re welcome,” Luke’s muffled voice replies from under a throw blanket that’s doing absolutely nothing to hide his legs.

You sigh, yank open a cabinet, and cram yourself inside.

There’s a broom, a vacuum hose, and a suspicious packet of cookies you’re pretty sure expired last year.

“Kieran,” you call through the cabinet slats. “Are you eating?”

“…No,” he says with his mouth full.

“I swear to every celestial body—”

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Near.

All three of you freeze like a trio of amateur criminals hiding from a prison warden.

The door creaks open.

You hold your breath.

Nothing.

No words. No movement.

Just the sound of the wind outside the window and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“I know you’re hiding,” Sylus calls out. Calm. Even. Like he’s enjoying this.

Luke lets out a soft, wheezing squeak from under the blanket.

You slap your palm over your mouth.

Kieran drops a packet of crackers and panics. “Shit, he’s bluffing! He’s bluffing!”

You burst out of the cabinet. “He’s NOT bluffing!”

All three of you scramble again, crashing into each other like some bootleg spy movie.

Kieran ends up tangled in curtain strings, Luke slams into a chair, and you leap over the kitchen counter and miss, landing with a loud thud.

You’re wheezing on the floor when Sylus walks in.

Unbothered. Unhurried.

Looking like an avenging angel with red-streaked remnants still faintly staining his jawline.

He folds his arms and surveys the disaster with something suspiciously close to amusement.

He walks past Kieran, still suspended in the curtains like a very dumb chandelier.

Past Luke, now pretending to be unconscious on the floor.

Past you.

He doesn’t say a word.

Not a glare. Not a threat. Not even a smirk.

Just a quiet, “Clean up after yourselves,” as he heads into his study.

The door shuts with a soft click.

“…That’s so much worse than yelling,” you whisper.

Kieran groans. “He’s plotting. He’s going to take us out one by one.”

Luke peeks from behind the couch. “He knows we’re scared. That’s why he’s letting us marinate.”

“I hate both of you so much right now,” you mutter, collapsing into the nearest armchair.

Kieran flops beside you and steals the remote. “We should lie low. Maybe bake him something.”

“Cookies fix everything,” Luke nods solemnly.

You glare at them both. “If I die, I’m haunting you in shifts.”

—•

It takes you two hours to gather the courage.

Two hours of Luke stress-eating cereal straight from the box while Kieran googled “how to tell if your boyfriend is planning your murder.”

Two hours of internal debates and spiraling scenarios, most of which ended with your disappearance and Sylus calmly denying any knowledge of your existence.

So now you’re standing in front of his office door like you’ve come to face a firing squad.

You raise your hand, hesitate, lower it again.

Then knock. Once. Softly.

“Come in,” comes his voice, smooth as always.

You open the door slowly. He’s seated behind his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled up, looking for all the world like a man deep in some technical report.

But you know better.

His eyes flick up to you—and stay there.

“I brought tea,” you say weakly, holding up the mug like a peace offering. Or a shield. “And… a cookie. But Luke sat on it.”

He doesn’t move. Just watches you, unreadable.

You inch forward, placing the mug on the corner of his desk. “Look, I didn’t know about the dye. I mean I did, but I didn’t think he’d actually—okay, no, that’s a lie. I thought it would be funny.”

Silence.

“I was wrong.”

Still nothing.

You shift awkwardly, gaze dropping to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Finally, he sets his pen down and leans back slightly, eyes still fixed on you.

Then, just when the tension starts to crack your spine.

A small smile.

A smile.

Sharp. Amused.

Dangerous.

“It’s okay,” he says.

You blink. “It… is?”

He nods. “Of course.”

Too easy. Way too easy.

You narrow your eyes. “You’re not mad?”

“Not at all.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You inch back a step. “Why does that sound like a trap?”

His smile widens—just a fraction. “I said it’s okay. That’s all.”

You stare at him. He stares right back, like he can hear every thought racing through your brain. Like he’s already playing the long game and you just stepped into it without even knowing.

“Right,” you mutter. “Okay. Cool. Um. I’ll go now.”

You turn on your heel and walk—more like run—out of the room.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you press your back against it, eyes wide.

“He’s going to destroy me.”

And from behind the door, faint and unmistakably amused, comes the sound of Sylus quietly sipping his tea.

You return to the living quarters with the kind of haunted expression usually reserved for horror movie survivors.

Luke looks up from the couch, one leg slung over the backrest like a human pretzel.

Kieran’s on the floor with a blanket cape, eating cereal with a fork.

“Are we dead?” Kieran asks between mouthfuls.

“Not yet,” you mutter.

Luke raises an eyebrow. “That bad?”

“He smiled at me.”

Both twins flinch.

“Was it… the smile?” Luke asks, lowering his voice.

“The ‘I know exactly where your corpse would never be found’ smile?” Kieran whispers.

You throw yourself onto the couch and groan into a pillow. “No. It was worse. It was the ‘It’s okay’ smile.”

Luke gasps dramatically. “No. He went full passive-aggressive Zen reaper?”

“He said it like it was fine. Like I’m fine. Like life is fine. Nothing is fine.”

Kieran crawls up beside you. “That’s psychological warfare. He’s gonna lull you into a false sense of security. Then, boom—next week your toothbrush explodes.”

“I wouldn’t even be mad,” you say into the pillow. “I’d respect the commitment.”

Luke drops beside you, flinging a cushion over your back like a blanket. “You know what this means, right?”

“That I need to sleep with one eye open?”

“No,” he says solemnly. “It means we go deeper.”

You lift your head slowly. “What?”

“He’s playing mind games. So we play worse mind games.”

“I’m sorry, did you hit your head on the stupid stick this morning?”

Kieran grins. “He’s got fear. But we have unpredictable chaos. Sylus doesn’t know how to handle us when we’re not even handling ourselves.”

“Oh, he knows. He just hasn’t decided which part of the house he’ll burn down first.”

Luke leans in. “Okay, hear me out. What if… next prank, we frame someone else?”

“Kieran,” you snap, “Luke is spiraling again.”

Kieran slurps his cereal louder. “Let him spiral. I want to see where it goes.”

You sit up, rubbing your temples. “You two are the reason I’m probably going to end up in some Sylus-designed containment cube labeled ‘Idiot No. 3.’”

Luke perks up. “That means he already made one for you.”

You chuck a pillow at his face. “I hate you.”

Kieran laughs so hard he chokes on his cereal.

And somewhere in the walls—behind silent security panels—you know Sylus is watching.

Letting you run your mouths.

Letting you think you’re safe.

Which is so much worse.

—•

Dinner is suspiciously… normal.

Too normal.

The lighting is warm. The dining room pristine.

The food? Already served and plated like a five-star meal—elegant, balanced, perfectly portioned.

Which is already unsettling, because Sylus doesn’t cook. He commands kitchens into order.

But tonight, he did everything himself.

You sit stiffly at the table, trying not to choke on the silence.

Kieran sits across from you, eyes darting from his fork to Sylus like he’s waiting for the plate to detonate. Luke hasn’t even touched his food.

Which says a lot, because Luke once ate nachos that had been on fire.

Sylus, meanwhile, is the picture of grace.

Calm, composed, every movement deliberate as he cuts into his food with a quiet snick of silverware.

“How’s the meal?” he asks lightly.

You all jump a little.

“It’s great!” Kieran blurts. “So great. Best thing I’ve ever had. Better than oxygen.”

You nudge your plate with the fork. “Um. What exactly is this?”

Sylus smiles—just enough to show it’s a trap. “Roasted pepper-glazed poultry with herb foam.”

“…Foam?” Luke whispers. “Like… bubbles?”

Sylus turns to him. “Yes. But gourmet.”

Luke nods solemnly. “Tastes expensive.”

You take a careful bite. It tastes incredible, which only makes things worse.

Sylus never does anything without intent. You feel like each bite is a move in a game you didn’t know you were playing.

“Is that saffron?” Kieran asks.

Sylus doesn’t look up. “Would I use saffron so early in the week?”

Kieran panics. “No! Obviously not. What a stupid question. Forget I said it. I never even heard of saffron.”

You sip your water. Pause. Sip again.

“Why does the water taste like mint?”

Luke sniffs his glass. “Mine tastes like fear.”

Sylus hums. “I thought I’d try infusing it. Cleansing properties. Refreshing.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re being nice.”

He looks at you. “Am I not allowed to be?”

“Not like this. You’re being suspiciously serene.”

Luke whispers to Kieran, “He’s baking the tension. Like a soufflé of dread.”

Kieran whispers back, “I’m scared to chew too loudly.”

Sylus finishes his plate, sets his utensils down with the softest clink, and dabs his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t worry. I’m not angry.”

You all freeze.

“I already told you,” he says, folding his hands neatly, “It’s okay.”

You grip the edge of the table.

“No, see, when you say that, it sounds okay, but it feels like I’m about to get smothered in my sleep with a silk pillow.”

Sylus smiles, serene as a saint. “You wound me.”

“Oh my god,” Kieran mutters. “He wants us to feel safe.”

“That’s when he’ll strike,” Luke hisses.

Sylus stands, slow and elegant. “I’ve had a long day. You three can clean up.”

And with that, he walks off—leisurely, utterly calm—leaving behind his perfectly empty plate and three very nervous idiots still staring at their forks like they might be poisoned.

“I think he put lavender in the bread,” Luke says hollowly.

“That’s a threat,” Kieran nods.

You don’t speak. You just slowly lower your fork onto your plate and say, voice soft with realisation.

“We’re already losing.”

—•

It starts the next morning.

Small things.

You wake up and stumble bleary-eyed into the bathroom, only to find your toothbrush… gone. In its place is a child’s pink glittery toothbrush with a tiny bow on the handle and a smug little unicorn printed across it.

You stare at it.

It stares back.

“…Sylus.”

You brush anyway. Because fear is temporary, but oral hygiene is forever.

Down the hall, you hear a scream. Luke.

You race to his room, bursting in just in time to see him holding up a shirt—his favorite shirt—now three sizes too small and bright neon orange.

“He sabotaged the laundry!” Luke wails. “It looks like a highlighter threw up on it!”

Kieran stumbles in a moment later, face pale. “Okay. You know the coffee machine?”

You all pause.

“…What about it?” you ask warily.

“I pressed ‘brew’ and it played classical music. Loudly. Very loudly. And then dispensed chamomile tea.”

Luke gasps. “Decaf?”

Kieran nods. “Herbal.”

You all stand there in silence, the full horror of that registering.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “He’s escalating. This is psychological warfare disguised as hospitality.”

Luke grabs your shoulders. “We have to go off-grid.”

You shake him off. “We live in his grid. He built the grid.”

Kieran paces. “Okay. Okay. So he’s playing the long game. Fine. We stay strong. We don’t break.”

You return to your room to get dressed, trying to reclaim some sense of normalcy.

Your closet is empty.

No. Not empty.

Reorganized.

Everything is sorted by color, occasion, emotional state, and the lunar cycle.

There are even handwritten labels.

LUNAR-ALIGNED NIGHTWEAR.

MILDLY ANNOYED LOUNGE SETS.

IF YOU MUST INTERACT WITH PEOPLE.

You stare.

It’s… kind of impressive.

Still terrifying.

Later that day, your comm device pings with a message.

Hope the toothbrush is to your liking. Unicorns are symbols of purity. Thought it was fitting. —S.

You don’t respond. You can’t.

You sit there in silence, chewing your unsatisfying herbal tea and wondering how one man could be so elegant and so unhinged at the same time.

Back in the kitchen, Luke is attempting to pick the lock on the pantry door—now password protected and voice activated.

Kieran sits on the floor, whispering sweetly to the coffee machine in the hopes it will forgive him.

And all the while, somewhere deep in his office, Sylus watches the surveillance feed with a slight, satisfied smile.

Checkmate? Not yet.

But the pieces were moving.

And he was always ten steps ahead.

—•

It’s late.

Too late for anyone else to be awake. The halls are quiet, dimly lit, the kind of silence that feels intentional.

You creep into the kitchen, determined to retrieve your emergency stash of chocolate hidden behind the vitamin supplements Sylus refuses to acknowledge.

You’ve earned this.

After a day of psychological warfare and sentient appliances, you deserve sugar and solitude.

But the moment you open the cabinet, you hear it.

“Looking for something?”

You jump, nearly drop the jar, and spin around.

Sylus leans casually against the doorframe. Half in shadow. White shirt slightly unbuttoned. Sleeves rolled. Watching you like you’re the most amusing thing he’s seen all day.

You swallow. “Just… needed a snack.”

He hums, low and thoughtful, stepping into the room. “You always get hungry when you’re anxious.”

“I’m not anxious.”

“Of course you’re not.”

He steps closer. Not fast. Not threatening.

Just… there.

Slowly closing the distance until he’s in your space. His eyes flick down to the jar in your hands, then back to you.

“You’ve been quiet today,” he murmurs.

You shrug, heart in your throat. “You’ve been… rearranging my life like an episode of The Big Bang Theory.”

He smiles. Slow. Dangerous.

“You should be grateful. I improved your morning routine, your closet, and your toothpaste. Not many people get this level of attention from me.”

“You replaced my shampoo with glitter gel.”

“I thought you liked shimmer.”

You glare. “Okay, what is this? Revenge lite? Psychological torment with a smile?”

He tilts his head, eyes glittering with that infuriating calm. “Do you think I’d waste my time with petty revenge?”

You hesitate. “…Yes?”

He chuckles. “Fair.”

He leans in just slightly—close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, the way his gaze flickers to your lips and back with deliberate slowness.

“But here’s the thing,” he says softly. “I’m not doing this because I’m angry.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what is this?”

His voice drops lower, velvet and ice. “This is a warning.”

You blink. “A warning?”

He raises a brow. “You see, I’m not interested in getting even. I’m not even interested in winning.”

He leans in fully now, mouth near your ear, voice like silk dragged over steel.

“I’m interested in reminding you… that you don’t play games with someone who invented the board.”

Your breath catches.

Then he steps back. Casual.

Smiling.

Completely composed, like he didn’t just dismantle your spine with a whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says smoothly, already turning to leave.

“Sylus—”

He glances over his shoulder, eyes cool, mouth curved in that infuriatingly perfect smirk.

“Sleep well, sweetie. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the kitchen, heart pounding, chocolate jar forgotten in your hands.

You stare at the door, then mutter to yourself:

“Okay. Yep. We’re all going to die.”

—•

You don’t sleep.

Not really.

Not after that.

You toss. Turn.

Stare at the ceiling.

Replay his words on a loop in your mind.

You don’t play games with someone who invented the board.

You shouldn’t be thinking about the way he said it. Or the way he’d leaned in—close enough to smell your shampoo, the glitter one, traitorous and lemon-sweet.

Or how his voice had dipped low like he wanted to taste the words.

But you are.

And it’s driving you insane.

You last until just before sunrise.

Then you march down the hall in bare feet and defiance, fully intending to demand an end to this madness.

Maybe yell. Maybe shake him.

Definitely not… whatever this fluttering in your chest is.

You stop outside his office.

The door is open.

He’s seated at the far end, back to you, reading something on a tablet. He doesn’t look up when you enter, but he says, “You’re up early.”

Your jaw tightens. “You planned that.”

“I plan everything.”

You walk in, arms crossed. “The glitter. The water. The closet. The toothbrush. You knew it would get in my head.”

He finally turns in his chair, tablet abandoned. “And yet… you came to me.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

It’s silent.

That heavy, brittle kind of silence where something has to break.

“You’re impossible,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head. “You’re the one who dyed my face red.”

You blink. “That wasn’t me! That was Luke!”

“But you knew.” He stands now, slow and deliberate, each step toward you heavier than the last. “And you laughed.”

“That was after the shock wore off.”

He stops in front of you, so close your breath hitches.

“You like testing me,” he says, almost gently.

Your voice is soft. “You like watching me squirm.”

His lips curve. “Only when you’re cornered.”

Your heart kicks up. “You don’t scare me.”

“No?” he murmurs, leaning in. “Then why do you look like you’re about to run?”

“I’m not—”

He reaches out—slow, precise—and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your skin like a dare.

You forget how to breathe.

“You know what the real game is?” he says, voice low enough to curl around your spine. “It’s not about revenge. Not anymore.”

You stare at him, pulse racing.

“It’s about seeing how long we can keep pretending this tension is just about pranks.”

Your lips part, but no sound comes out.

He leans in closer, mouth inches from yours. “So go ahead,” he whispers. “Run. Or…”

His breath brushes your skin.

“…stop pretending.”

And in that moment, the air between you threatens to collapse entirely.

Your heart is hammering.

You can hear it—feel it—each thud echoing through your ribs like a countdown.

But nothing moves. Not him. Not you.

Just that impossible closeness and the weight of everything left unsaid pressing in like gravity.

Sylus doesn’t touch you again.

He doesn’t need to.

He’s right there, his presence overwhelming in its stillness, in the way his eyes never leave yours. Not even to blink.

Not even for air. It’s like he’s daring you to look away first.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

The tension is a live wire between you, buzzing, pulsing, dangerously taut.

You could lean in.

He could close the distance. Just one breath more.

One slip.

One break in control.

And everything would unravel.

But neither of you moves.

Because this isn’t about the kiss.

It’s about the pause before it.

The ache of proximity. The heat of restraint.

The mutual, wordless recognition that something’s changed, tilted—irrevocably—but no one wants to name it yet.

His voice, when it comes, is almost a whisper. “Still not scared?”

You swallow, your voice quieter still. “Should I be?”

He leans in just enough for your foreheads to almost touch. “Terrified.”

And there it is again—that exquisite push and pull. That dangerous promise wrapped in affection, mischief, and a power you’ll never quite untangle.

You feel the breath leave your lungs. “Then why haven’t you done anything?”

Sylus doesn’t smile this time. Not quite.

Instead, his gaze drops—briefly—to your lips, then lingers there.

“Because I like this,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

“This moment,” he murmurs, voice velvet-dark. “Where you’re still trying to pretend you have the upper hand.”

Your pulse stutters.

“And when I finally take it from you,” he continues, “you’ll know it wasn’t by force.”

His eyes lift back to yours—slowly, intently.

“It’ll be because you gave it.”

Your breath hitches.

And still, he doesn’t move.

Not forward. Not back. Just there.

Waiting.

Like he can stay in this moment forever, balanced at the edge of something dangerous and devastating.

Just to watch you fall first.

He’s still watching you.

Still waiting.

Like he’s reading your every thought, every twitch of hesitation, every part of you that wants to lean in and the part that still clings to the illusion of control.

You don’t speak.

You just look at him.

And that’s all it takes.

Because Sylus moves with the precision of someone who’s already planned this moment ten steps ahead.

One hand rises—fingers brushing your jaw, your cheek, slow as silk.

The other curls gently around your waist, pulling you forward, not forcefully, but with the promise of no escape.

You barely get the chance to gasp before his mouth captures yours.

It’s not a gentle kiss.

It’s deliberate. Consuming.

Like he’s reminding you exactly who you’ve been playing games with.

There’s heat, yes, but more than that—there’s command.

The way his lips move against yours, the way his hand tilts your chin just so, the way your breath disappears entirely beneath his—all of it says, you’ve lost.

And god, you let him.

Your hands curl into his shirt, trying to hold on—anchor yourself.

But he deepens the kiss and everything tilts with it.

The pressure of his body, the taste of him, the sound you make without meaning to—it all blends together in something dangerous.

And then, you feel it.

A faint, thrumming pulse in the air.

A crackle of invisible tension winding around your wrists.

You pull back just barely, lips parted, dizzy. “What—”

Too late.

Energy winds up your arms like silken thread—cool, weightless, until it suddenly binds.

A shimmer of red-black tendrils coils around your wrists, tugging them behind your back, smooth as liquid steel.

Your breath catches. “Sylus—?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing steady, unbothered. “You like playing with fire,” he murmurs, voice low and calm. “But you forget—I am the fire.”

With a flick of his fingers, the energy coils tighten. Your arms are pulled behind you, secured to the low railing of the console desk behind you—elegant, efficient, inescapable.

Then, as if that weren’t enough—he slides a metal cuff into place around your right wrist.

You freeze the second it locks.

You know that cuff.

Dull black, sleek. Lined with tech that silences Evol abilities like a mute button pressed against your skin.

It hums to life with a faint click.

And suddenly, you’re still.

Held.

Caged.

Disarmed.

Your eyes widen. “That’s—”

“—the containment cuff from Tartarus, yes,” he finishes, calmly brushing your hair from your face. “You didn’t think I’d forget to prepare for retaliation, did you?”

You stare at him. “You kissed me just to—?”

He tilts your chin up again, eyes sharp, amused, infuriatingly tender.

“I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says. “Cuffing you was just… a bonus.”

Your mouth opens in protest, but he leans in again, this time slower, deliberate, brushing his lips over yours like a threat.

“Now,” he whispers, “let’s see how long you can behave… without your tricks.”

Then he steps back, leaving you bound to the desk, breathless and flushed, completely and utterly at his mercy.

And he smiles.

Not the cold, amused smile from before.

Something darker. Possessive. Knowing.

“You started this,” he says, voice velvet. “Now you get to see how I finish it.”

You tug against the energy binding your wrists. It doesn’t budge.

The cuff hums faintly at your pulse point, Evol completely silenced.

He stands before you, not gloating—no, that would be too easy.

Too human. He just watches.

Calm. Composed.

Like a man who could undo you in a thousand ways and hasn’t even begun.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice like poured velvet.

You narrow your eyes. “This is so far beyond revenge.”

“Is it?” he muses, brushing a thumb under your chin. “You did challenge me. Repeatedly. In public. With unicorns.”

You glare. “You’re enjoying this.”

He leans in, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Immensely.”

And then—crash.

Followed by a shout.

And another crash.

You both freeze.

Sylus exhales, long-suffering, and turns his head just as the door to the control room swings wide open.

Luke bursts in, holding a smoking toaster. “Okay! Who set the oven to incinerate? I was making waffles—”

He stops.

Stares.

Kieran skids in behind him, carrying a fire extinguisher. “We may or may not have caused a minor electrical—”

Also stops.

Stares.

The three of you hold in silence.

You, flushed, cuffed, and restrained against the desk.

Sylus, standing in front of you with the casual elegance of a villain who’s definitely in charge.

Luke, blinking rapidly.

Kieran, slowly lowering the extinguisher.

“Oh my god,” Luke whispers. “Did we walk in on a—”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you bark.

Kieran’s already backing out. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

Sylus doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t move. He just looks over his shoulder at them and says, calm as ever.

“Leave. Before I make it permanent.”

Luke raises both hands, stepping back. “Okay! Yep. Carry on. Nothing to see. Just… us. Not here.”

Kieran salutes. “We were never here.”

They vanish.

The door slams.

You exhale through your nose. “I hate them.”

“You encouraged them,” Sylus replies.

“I was peer pressured!”

He hums, reaching for your jaw again, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You always have an excuse.”

“I wasn’t the one who turned revenge into a bondage scene—”

He cuts you off with a low chuckle. “Are you uncomfortable?”

You open your mouth.

Then close it.

Then hiss, “…Yes. In the worst way.”

“Good,” he murmurs, brushing his lips barely—barely—against yours. “Sit in that discomfort. Feel it.”

He steps back again, and your body instinctively leans forward—straining just slightly against the binds.

His smile turns wicked. “That’s one.”

You blink. “One what?”

“One slip.”

You frown. “What is this, a score counter—?”

“Two.”

You shut your mouth. Scowl.

He watches you with open amusement now. “You’re very expressive when you’re trying not to be.”

“Sylus.”

He leans down, gaze inches from yours, voice soft.

“Be good, and I’ll let you go.”

You don’t respond.

His eyes glitter. “Or don’t. I’m patient.”

And he turns to leave. Leaves you there—bound, breathless, and burning.

“Oh my god!” you shout after him. “You’re the worst!”

From down the hall, Luke’s voice echoes faintly, “Is it safe to make waffles again?”

You scream, “NO!”

And Sylus’s laugh—low, dangerous, victorious—follows you like a storm rolling in.

masterlist

[lyiswriting]

Plus size reader x stalker!OC

This is an original character! but I do get COD ghost and Ghostface vibes from him.

I finally caught him! The goddamn stalker that has been watching and freaking me out for months. I get that this might not have been my best idea but here we are! He's handcuffed to a chair and just looking at me. Watching my every move as I pace around the room indecisive if I should call the cops. Why do you do this? I ask sternly, I'm nervous but try not to show it but he knows better. Why not? Tilts his head, you're fucking gorgeous and entertaining. I scuffs that's not a good answer, there's a good answer to that?

Well...not exactly... I think you're precious, you hung the stars for me. Life has never been brighter, I love to watch your every move. How pretty you look asleep, cooking, reading, and writing. You fucking name it! His voice is rough and his eyes darken as he starts talking more. In the fucking shower he groans and throws his head back, even with his mask still on I can tell he's smirking. I look at him Your sick! Oh, but doll face you love every single second of it. I've read those books you fawn over, those are just fictional. He scuffs and shakes his head, maybe...but I laid in your bed, read your books when you didn't even know. I love your sheets and can't wait for when I get you in them.

You're a damn perv! As if that will ever fucking happen...I mumble as my hands shake trying to hold my phone steady. Once again, you love it. You love how I'm getting hard at just recalling all of this. That someone finally actually cares and loves you enough to lose his mind over you. To risk losing everything he has just because he can't stay away from you. Shifts in his seat look at how hard you have me, baby. I look at him shocked, how can he say that so casually. How can he be hard from all this!?

I don't get it, why go through all of this for me? I'm not special, not smart, not rich and totally not pretty according to society. Don't fucking say that! He suddenly barks making me jump. You are the epitome of gorgeous. He tilts his head as he starts to pant, I'm stupid for letting him keep talking. You think I would go through all of this for someone who isn't a diamond? For someone who looks like everyone else? He laughs and shakes his head no baby.

I'm being a nice guy to you and letting you fucking think you have the upper hand. So keep that little mouth of yours in check, he growls. I look at him and my body shaking in fear. Who the fuck do you think you are? I try to act tough, this is my house. You are the one that's handcuffed! I point at him as I walk closer I do have the upper hand! And what's wrong with me saying the truth? To the media I am not pretty,

I love your voice, he suddenly switched tones as he looks at me lovingly. I love the way you think, I love your body, no matter how big. I love every single mark and scar on it. You're my solstice. His soft tone suddenly goes rough again, but I won't let you talk about yourself in that way. I suddenly hear him grunt and something breaking. I back up as he stands the cuffs sitting on his wrists, broken.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

You Said You’d Handcuff Me

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: Long-distance fluff, spicy content (oral m + p receiving, handcuffs, slight restraint kink), dirty talk, soft dom!Simon, cuddling, face kisses, established relationship, pining, language, and the softest aftercare

Author's Note: I wanted to write a spicy something so uh… yeah enjoy!!

Summary: Simon once joked about handcuffing you to the bed if you ever surprised him by showing up at his door. You took that personally.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

Before the Surprise

You hadn’t planned on it. Honestly, it was a passing joke.

“I swear, if you ever just show up at my door one day,” Simon had said during one of your late-night FaceTime calls, his voice gravelly with fatigue but still warm, “I’d lose my mind. Might even cry. Can’t promise I wouldn’t cuff you to the bed so you can’t leave again.”

You’d laughed, tucked beneath your weighted blanket, watching the sleepy softness in his eyes. “Cuff me to the bed, huh? That a threat or a promise?”

“Both,” he said without missing a beat, and the two of you dissolved into tired, giddy laughter.

You thought about it for days after.

You missed him—God, you missed him. The distance wasn’t new, but it never got easier. The calls helped. The texts. But it wasn’t the same as feeling his arms around you, his breath against your neck, his quiet murmurs when he pulled you closer in his sleep.

So when your boss mentioned the extra two days off next week due to scheduling conflicts? You didn’t hesitate.

You started planning.

——

Meanwhile, with Simon…

He tried to act normal. Truly.

But something about the silence after your “extra shift” text rubbed him wrong. Maybe it was the way your usual goodnight message didn’t come. Or how the last FaceTime had ended with a softer than usual, “I love you, Si. I’ll call as soon as I can.”

He told himself not to worry.

But the man had gone into full-on brooding mode.

He trained harder. Took an extra gym session. Cleaned his flat (which was already spotless). Even cooked, which, for Simon, was code for making two entire meals and pushing the leftovers into Tupperware with a scowl.

He checked his phone every hour.

He watched a show you’d told him about, but it wasn’t the same without you texting him reactions. He even tried watching your favorite cheesy romance movie, but he fell asleep 20 minutes in, arms crossed over his chest and the ghost of your laugh echoing in his mind.

He missed you more than he was willing to admit.

——

By the time you were standing outside his door, your palms were sweaty and your heart was thudding like you were going to war.

You shifted your overnight bag on your shoulder, triple-checked your phone was recording (you had to catch this reaction), and knocked.

You heard him swear softly behind the door.

Then his heavy footsteps.

Then the lock clicking.

And then—his face.

Sleep shirt clinging to his chest, low-slung sweats, hair messy like he’d just rolled out of bed or off the couch. His eyes narrowed for half a second as if his brain couldn’t process the real you standing there.

Then—pure shock.

“Babe?” he breathed.

You grinned. “Hey, Si.”

“…You’re here. You’re actually here.” He looked like he might pass out.

You stepped inside without waiting, tossing your bag to the floor. “Told you I was picking up a shift. Just didn’t mention it was for travel.”

His arms were around you in seconds—tight, desperate. One hand curled around the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

“Christ, I missed you,” he muttered into your hair. “I was going fuckin’ mad.”

You leaned back just enough to look at him. “Mad enough to handcuff me like you promised?”

A spark flickered in his eyes.

“Oh, you remember that?” he murmured, voice low and dark now.

Your lips curved. “Kinda been thinking about it ever since.”

He didn’t waste another second.

——

Simon scooped you up without warning, arms strong and sure, and you let out a breathless laugh as your back hit the mattress.

His weight pressed over yours—solid, real. His mouth claimed yours with a hunger that only months apart could create. It wasn’t just lust—it was love. Deep and aching and years in the making.

Clothes were peeled away between kisses. He whispered against your skin, telling you how beautiful you looked, how soft you felt, how much he needed you.

And when he reached for the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out his cuffs?

You gasped, half laughing, half breathless. “You actually—?”

“Figured I might need ‘em someday,” he murmured, brushing your hair away from your face, then fastening one loop around your wrist and gently clicking the other around the headboard bar.

He kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, down lower…

“I’m gonna take my time with you,” he whispered. “Make up for every damn day I couldn’t touch you.”

And he did.

Over. And over. And over again.

Simon didn’t kiss you like someone seeing their lover again after months—

He kissed you like a starving man.

A desperate, quiet hunger that lit every nerve in your body.

Clothes came off in a trail—soft cotton, worn denim, your favorite hoodie (his hoodie now), each piece peeled away between kisses, nips, and groans that started low in his chest. You barely got a word out before his mouth was back on yours, greedy but controlled, like he needed to taste you more than he needed to breathe.

When your back hit his mattress and you saw the metal glint of the cuffs in his hand, your breath caught.

“You weren’t kidding…” you whispered, heart skipping.

Simon gave a slow smirk, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. He clicked them open, crawling over you with slow, deliberate movements.

“You brought this on yourself,” he said roughly, one hand lifting your wrist to the bedframe.

“You said you’d handcuff me—”

“And I meant it.”

Click.

One cool metal ring snapped around your wrist. The other looped around the headboard bar—loose enough to be comfortable, but snug enough that you weren’t getting away.

Your chest rose with every breath, and Simon leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“I want you still, love. I want to take my time… make you feel every fuckin’ second we lost.”

And he did.

He kissed down your body, slow and reverent, murmuring, “Missed this—missed you—missed how you sound, how you taste…”

His mouth was hot and wet, leaving trails from your neck to your stomach, before he settled between your thighs.

And when Simon went down on you, it was with intention.

Not rushed. Not frantic.

Worship.

His tongue moved slow and deep, his stubble scraping your thighs just right, hands gripping them open as you tried to twist your wrist free and reach for him—forgetting completely that you were cuffed.

You whined, hips arching up.

“Simon—God—please—”

His voice was a low growl against your skin.

“You’ll take what I give you. You’ve waited this long—s’only fair I make up for it.”

And then he sucked—hard, right where you needed it—and you saw stars.

He didn’t stop until you were gasping his name, back arched off the sheets, tears pricking your eyes from how hard you came. Only then did he finally move up, mouth slick, pupils even darker.

“Still want me to cuff you?” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded like you were drunk on him.

“Never taking them off.”

That earned a breathless laugh, and then he was unzipping his pants, grabbing a condom, tearing it open with teeth.

You were still trembling as he lined himself up, kissed your mouth, your cheek, your throat—

And then pushed in.

Slow. Deep. Stretching and splitting you open in the most delicious way. Your cuffed hand gripped the headboard as your other reached for his shoulder, trying to anchor yourself.

“Fuck,” he groaned, low and guttural. “Feels like home.”

He started to move—deep, strong thrusts that made the bed creak, his hips pressing flush against yours, his mouth never far from your skin. You gasped his name again and again, and he answered each sound with a kiss or a growl of, “That’s it, love. Let me hear you. Let me fuckin’ hear how much you missed me.”

You came again with your head thrown back, and Simon followed right after—muttering a ragged “I love you” against your neck as he came, clutching you like he never wanted to let go.

And he didn’t.

Even after the cuffs came off.

——

After

You were tangled up in his sheets, his arms looped around your waist, your face pressed against his chest. Your wrist still had the faintest red mark from the cuffs, and Simon had kissed it three times, muttering apologies that didn’t really sound like regrets.

“Next time I go quiet,” you mumbled sleepily, “assume I’m planning something.”

Simon chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath your cheek. “Next time you go quiet, I’m showing up at your place.”

You grinned. “With handcuffs?”

He nipped your ear. “You’ll find out.”

——

The Morning After

You woke up slowly—blankets tangled around your legs, bare skin warm under soft sheets, and the unmistakable scent of Simon’s cologne lingering on the pillow next to yours.

There was no sound for a moment. Just birds outside and the low hum of the heater.

Then, from the doorway:

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

You blinked.

Simon stood there—hair damp, towel around his waist, coffee mug in one hand, plate of toast in the other. He looked absurdly domestic for a man who’d had you cuffed to a bed six hours ago.

He set everything on the nightstand and sat beside you, leaning down to kiss your temple.

“Brought you breakfast,” he murmured. “You were out cold. Figured you earned it.”

You smiled, eyes still half-closed.

“Breakfast and aftercare? You trying to marry me?”

He gave a soft laugh, brushing your hair back.

“Maybe I am.”

You reached for the coffee, and he let you steal a sip before taking it back. “Oi. Yours is coming.”

“Fine. But I want mine with kisses.”

He rolled his eyes but bent down to kiss your cheek, then your shoulder, then your wrist—the one that had worn his cuff the night before.

“You good?” he asked softly.

You nodded, heart full.

“Never been better.”

And you meant it.

Because home wasn’t a place—it was him.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[sh4nksslvt]

Stuck on You

Some prankster superglues Marco’s hand to yours. You both pretend to hate it… but secretly enjoy staying glued together.

Marco x gn! reader | ONE SHOT

Tags: fluff, flirting, chaos, sfw

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

word count: 3.3k

MINORS DNI!!

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a prank.

A very bad prank.

One minute you were standing on deck, minding your own business, chatting with Marco about nothing in particular — and the next minute, someone (you had your suspicions) superglued your hand to his.

Literally.

Palm-to-palm.

Fingers intertwined.

"You have got to be kidding me-yoi," Marco muttered, staring down at your very stuck hands with the emotional range of a man who had survived actual wars but could not survive this level of annoyance.

You tugged.

Marco tugged.

Your hands stayed locked together like some sort of romantic death grip.

"…Well," you said, very eloquently.

"Well," Marco echoed, voice utterly dry.

From somewhere behind a barrel, muffled snickering erupted. You both turned in time to see a few crewmates (Ace, you would bet your next paycheck) sprinting away at full speed, laughing their asses off.

Marco sighed heavily. "Should've seen that coming, yoi."

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed. "You think they superglued us together… on purpose?"

Marco gave you a long look, deadpan as hell. "…No-yoi. It was a coincidence that someone left industrial-strength glue exactly where we were standing."

You snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. "Fair enough, Mr. Smartass."

He smirked, tugging lightly at your conjoined hands again. No dice. You were fused like some godawful romantic statue.

"Guess we’re stuck-yoi."

You both stared at your hands, at each other, at your hands again.

Slowly, you realized the entire deck was staring.

Crewmates leaned against rails, poked their heads out of doors, peered from crow’s nests. Watching. Waiting.

You could almost hear the bets forming.

You hissed under your breath, "Don't make a scene. Act natural."

Marco smiled, the slow lazy kind that made your heart do stupid cartwheels.

"You think we’re good at ‘natural' -yoi?"

You elbowed him (gently, because, you know, superglue). "Walk. Casual. Now."

He obligingly started walking, swinging your joined hands obnoxiously like you were newlyweds on a stroll. You tripped trying to keep up with his stupid long strides, and Marco had the audacity to chuckle under his breath.

"Oh, you're enjoying this," you accused, half-laughing, half-glaring.

Marco tilted his head innocently. "Why wouldn’t I enjoy being glued to such charming company-yoi?"

You blinked.

Heat flared up your neck.

Was that… flirting?! From Marco?!

You decided to play it cool. "Obviously, I'm the lucky one. Being stuck with the infamous cool guy of the crew."

He arched an eyebrow. "Cool guy?"

You nodded sagely. "Yeah. All mysterious and strong and… broody. You know. Classic heartthrob material."

Marco actually laughed, full-throated and amused.

"You've been spending too much time with Ace, yoi," he said, but his thumb was rubbing slow circles into your knuckles — absent-minded, soft — and he made no move to pull away.

You pretended not to notice.

The ship doctor declared the situation "temporarily incurable" unless you wanted to rip off some skin.

You did not want that.

So you and Marco were officially handcuffed together for the next few hours, possibly longer.

The announcement spread through the ship like wildfire. Everywhere you went, people tried to hide their snickering — and failed spectacularly.

At lunch, you had to sit next to Marco. (Technically, on Marco, because the bench was too narrow and you kept bumping into him.)

Passing plates was a disaster.

You dropped a spoon into Marco’s lap at one point, and he just gave you a look so dry it could set fires.

You grinned sweetly. "Oops."

"You’re doing this on purpose."

"Maybe," you sang, swinging your legs.

Marco grunted — but the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

After lunch, things got worse.

You tried to help Marco with paperwork.

Emphasis on tried.

"Hold still, yoi," he muttered, trying to shuffle through documents with one hand while your hand clumsily trailed after his.

"This is your fault," you whispered dramatically.

"You touched me first."

"You glued yourself to me!"

"You leaned into the glue puddle-yoi."

"You—!" you sputtered.

The tension snapped — you both cracked up, laughing so hard the pen rolled off the desk.

Sometime around sunset, you found yourself sitting on the figurehead of the ship, watching the ocean shimmer gold. Marco sat next to you, your hands still hopelessly, ridiculously intertwined.

The atmosphere shifted — soft, quieter.

A breeze tugged at your hair.

Marco turned his head lazily, regarding you out of the corner of his eye.

"You know," he said casually, "if you wanted to hold my hand… you could’ve just asked-yoi"

You almost fell off the ship.

"I did not plan this!" you yelped, cheeks burning hotter than a volcano.

Marco chuckled — that low, warm sound you could feel in your ribs.

"I know," he said, a little softer. "But still."

You glanced down at your hands — how perfectly they fit together, the way his thumb lazily traced circles over your skin without even thinking.

"…It’s not so bad," you admitted, voice small.

Marco smiled.

Not the lazy, cocky smirk he gave everyone else — a real, soft smile that made your heart flutter traitorously.

"Nah-yoi," he agreed, squeezing your hand. "Not bad at all."

When the glue finally wore off (courtesy of some miracle solvent the ship doctor whipped up late at night), you both sat there for a second.

Free.

Hands separated.

No excuse anymore.

Marco looked at you.

You looked at Marco.

Long pause.

"…We’re allowed to hold hands without glue, you know," you blurted, immediately wanting to jump overboard from sheer embarrassment.

Marco laughed — really laughed — and before you could hide your face, he caught your hand again, lacing your fingers together easy as breathing.

"No more excuses-yoi," he said, lips brushing your temple in a featherlight kiss.

You clung tighter.

Maybe being stuck together wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[bbyg4rl]

handcuffing jj to the bed . . .

cw: SMUT, sub!jj x dom!reader, handcuffing, pantie stuffing, use of vibrator, allusion to aftercare.

a/n: merged these three reqs tgt !! (if you saw me accidentally post this before, shush)

The minute you stepped into that party with your expensive lip gloss and your mean girl strut, he was already on one—making little comments under his breath, teasing you in front of your friends. Acting like he was better than you. So when you grabbed his wrist, dug your nails into his skin, and said “Let’s go,” in that strained voice, he knew he pushed too far.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry,” he says, landing on the bed with a grunt, hands up in surrender, cocky grin faltering. “I didn’t mean to—”

CLINK. The cold metal of the handcuffs hits his wrist before he can finish the sentence. “Whoa—what the hell—?” Before he can blink, the other cuff snaps around the headboard. He’s trapped. All that muscle, those big arms, completely useless now.

“Say you’re sorry like you mean it.”

“I am sorry.” He tugs at the cuffs with a little hiss. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do anything.”

You settle on his lap, setting a slow grind against his half hard cock. “Say it again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Again.”

He’s panting now. Voice cracking. Hips bucking. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so fucking sorry. Please—please touch me.”

You slide off the bed, stripping your dress as you go. You don’t even look at him. You know he’s watching—chest rising, mouth parted, wrists twisting above his head like he’s trying so hard not to yank the bed apart. “You know what your problem is?” you ask, circling the bed slowly, barefoot, smug. “You act like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

JJ groans. “I don’t. I’ve never thought that. You terrify me, actually.”

You reach for the nightstand drawer. His hips jolt.

“Wait, what’s in there—?”

You turn the toy on low. The buzzing sound making JJ whimper in anticipation. You crawl back onto the bed, slow and deliberate, settling between his legs. He gasps when you pull his pants down, his abdomen flexing as you inch the toy close to his bubblegum tip.

You slide it against the underside of his cock, tracing the vein that protrudes out. He knows he’s done for now. He closes his eyes while you work him up. Pressing the vibe to his leaking tip, curling your tongue around the base of his cock.

He’s whining and moaning as you move the toy, Up. Down. Up. Down. “Please—I’ll be good—Please—” The words come out like squeaks, rough voice reduced to whimpering rasps.

“Please what?” Your eyes twinkle taking in his state, sweat shining on his forehead, chest heaving, biceps bulging when he tries to wiggle out of the hold of the metal.

“Please let me cum,” he tugs at the headboard again, desperation trickling out like sweat on his neck. You turn the toy off, much to his dismay. But the disgruntled noise he lets out is cut short when you shove your panties into his mouth. “Good boys take what they get, yeah?”

“Mhm y-yes” his voice is muffled, barely audible. You waste no time in sinking down on his cock. The stretch making you both moan in unison.

You quickly set a punishing pace, thighs rising and falling around his own. His legs thrash and hips thrust up everytime your walls clench around him. You rest one hand on his shoulder, the other making its way between your legs and he swears he’s ascended into heaven. His eyes roll back, hips bucking up rapidly, moans loud enough to drown out your own.

“Cum with me, cum with me—” you moan, dropping your head against his shoulder, letting him fuck up into you as you rest your thighs. His thrusts grow feral now, the need to make you cum, to please you, clouding his mind.

You cum around him soon enough, fingers pinching at your clit, jaw slack as the pleasure envelopes you, but your ears perk up at the sob he lets out as your cunt spasms around him. He cums with you, back arched, arms straining and hips shaking. He cums hard and heavy, the sticky goo painting your walls in white and slipping out the sides, onto his stomach and down your thighs.

When he finally slumps back, ruined and boneless, you unlock the cuffs. Stroking his jaw, kissing the corner of his mouth, whispering praise. He immediately curls his arms around you, holding tight, still panting, still shaking. But better now that he can hold you.

check out my other works ! masterlist

[chatterbox-73]

Simptember 2024.

Day 11 - Last straw.

Tenya Iida x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for simptember, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for simptember and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

Summary: what happened when you teased a strict and stuck-in-his-ways man, well you find out after relentlessly teasing your husband and till his left with no choice but to punish you.

Word count: 1.4K

CW: NSFW and adult content, swearing, unprotected sex, oral (m!receiving), sex toys, anal play, double penetration, sexting/nudes, sending voices, DD/lg, restrains/handcuffing, grinding/dry-humping, eating cum, spanking, squirting, lingerie, implied aftercare.

Tenya Iida sat in his office scrolling through his phone, he had finished all his meetings and work for the day, now he patiently waited for the day to end, he always liked to wait until 11pm on the dot and he’d never leave a minute before… however you were making it very difficult.

You had been sending him dirty messages and pictures all day,

“Tenya please I need it…”

“Please I’m so desperate…”

“Look how soaked my panties are…”

And it only continued now, all the messages were still fairly modest, as you had the decency to not send him full view nudes while he was at work, at least he believed you were decent enough to not act in such manner.

*ping*

Tenya looked down at his phone and noticed a video file, he clicked the file and waited for it to load, when the video clip started you came into view, in nothing but a pink thong, you turned around and climbed onto the bed, wiggling your hips for the camera and turning to looked at it while you fondled your breasts, then the video cut off.

*ping*

“Please come home, I’m so lonely…”

“Daddy”

Tenya looked over at his clock and sighed 9:50pm, it was still so early and yet he was actually fighting himself, for what he wasn’t sure, his mind was weakly telling him to ignore your advances and save everything for the time he’s supposed to be home, while his body was telling him to forget his schedule and leave so he could take you, until you learnt your lesson. “Fuck…” Tenya huffed under his breath and clenched his fist.

*ping*

Another video file, he opened it and there you were, on the bed straddling a pillow, you moaned and whimpered as you ground your hips on the pillow, “daddy… oh I’m so close” you cried out throwing your head back and picking up your pace, your body suddenly stiffened and your fell forward, you looked into the camera, huffing and smiling before the video cut out again.

*ping*

“This pillow is nothing like your leg, daddy”

“But it’ll do”

Tenya suddenly stood to his feet and slung his bag over his shoulder, before leaving the office without allowing his mind the chance to rationalise the situation anymore, Tenya knew one thing for certain, he’d be going home and teaching you to respect his work hours.

You sat at the dining room table in a lavender babydoll slip, that was almost completely transparent, it left nothing to the imagination, the slip came with a matching thong that surprisingly gave you more privacy then its matching top, and too tie everything together you wore a pair of soft mint coloured heels, your watched the door and wondered with Tenya would be doing now, had he seen your videos, was he pleased with them or furious about them, had it been enough to get him to leave work early. You questioned to yourself but just as you where about to start spiralling into your thoughts, the front door swung open and in came Tenya in a huff, before you could say for do anything he dropped his bag and looked at you, “get in that bedroom now” his voice was strong and dangerous, you quickly stood and walked into the bedroom before kneeling next to the bed, you and Tenya had played his game before, though it was always so planned out and never like this.

Tenya walked into the room silently the only notice coming from him being his heavy footsteps, you watched as he walked into the closet and returned with a relatively large box, dropping it onto the bed and opening it he looked inside. Tenya reached in and grabbed what he wanted, you swallowed and tried to calm yourself but his next words only made your panic worse, “remember the safe word?” He asked and you nodded frantically, “say it…” he demanded and you took a shaky breath in, “kiwi..” you spoke clearly, however once he lifted the handcuffs your resolve left you, “hands” he spoke and reached out a hand for yours, you placed your hands in his one large hand and watched anxiously as he locks those cuffs on you, once on he grabs them and pulled you onto the bed.

You held your ass up as he pressed his hips into your rear, he rubbed his hands over your cheeks before raising his hand and sharply bringing it down onto your cheek, you cried out and he repeated this action again and again, “if only you have waited, I’d have made you feel so good and special, like your the only girl that matters” he hummed and rubbed a hand over the mark his made, you felt him pull back slightly before he pulled the string on your thong down, he pressed the thin fabric to his nose before he discarded it across the room. “So sweet, it almost makes me forget the way you tried to humiliate me” he chuckled and something wet and cold rubbed against your tightly puckered ring, “relax baby, daddy has a surprise for you” he laughed and began to force the object into your rear, by the feeling of it you recognised it as the pink beaded dildo, you whined and gripped the bedsheets, you tried to relax as he thrust the toy in and out of you slowly.

Just as you started to relax and it became easier to take it in the back he started to rub his thick dripping tip against your entrance, “I can’t take both… please don’t” you moaned and Tenya rolled his eyes, “now if you actually believed that baby, you’d use our special little word” he hummed and began to slide into you, dropping your face and chest onto the bed you cried at the fullness but didn’t say that word, how could you… it felt little heaven, never did you think he’d be filling you this much after sending those videos, his thrusts with slow and in time with the try how he suddenly started thrusting faster and in alternating movements with the toy, never once were you actually empty.

Your pleasure began to build, tipping you close and close to the finish line, and just as your reached your peak and began to cum hard, sudden pull the toy and himself out quickly, this caused a large explosion in your loins and a gush of liquid to flow out of you and all into the bed, “your a dirty slut, babygirl” Tenya hummed watch the last drops of release drip from your aching cunt, “turn and face me, now” he demanded and you moved as quickly as your shaky limbs would move you, Tenya sat back his legs open and one bent so he could rest his arm on it, “get that smart-arse mouth to work” he grunted.

You leant down immediately and began sucking his tip, however this wasn’t enough for Tenya as he wrapped his fingers into your hair and pushed you down onto his cock, you gagged and he held you there, watched you struggle before quickly pulling you back up for air, you gasped and took a few deep breaths before he started using as a human fleshlight, he groaned as you desperately swallowed around him and whine, despite the abuse on your throat this was turning into, it was fun and so damn hot… and better then what you imagined he’d do to you.

“Fuck baby… oh shit” Tenya huffed as his hips shuddered and you drank down every last drop of his cum, sitting up you smiled at him, “you should come home early more often…” you chuckled and Tenya leant forward, removing the handcuffs and tossing them into the box, “possibly… though maybe you could put on a little show, like the one you sent me, when I’m actually home to fulling enjoy it” he hummed and you nodded tiredly, before moving into Tenya’s arms and drifting off you sleep.

When you woke up a few hours later you noticed you were in a nice warm and clean bed, you were now dressed into a comfortable set of pyjamas, you looked over to your husband who sat reading a book, as if he felt your eyes on him, Tenya looked to you before he leant down and kissed your lips so warmly and passionately, you slightly craved more.

Simptember Masterlist

Day 10 - Hatsuharu Sohma: Closest distance

Day 12 - Itachi Uchiha: Gifts

[fauchart]

S?? E?? - 'When Snakey Met Annie...'

An early season Bob-centric episode in which Ann finds Snake again after he's robbed her diner and, charmed and stupid, she tries to get him to date her - he's entirely uninterested until she mentions living across the penitentiary. The wheels start to turn and all of a sudden, he welcomes the idea... Meanwhile, Bob had been reading self-improvement books (anger management, how to let go of grudges, revenge isn't the answer etc) and was on his very best behaviour, planning on waiting out his sentence and come back to society a changed man, ready for a fresh start... But when the opportunity to escape is presented as readily as it is here, he shrugs off all of his good decisions, throws his book above his shoulder and switches back to crazed maniac in an instant - and back to hunting Bart he goes! Though the focus of the episode will be Bob and Bart, several times throughout the episode there will be appearances of Snake trying to drop the charade with Ann now that he got what he wanted - but each time he'll have to keep up the farce for one reason or another;

(Listen, Snake growing a conscience and suddenly refusing to violate carpool lane rules for a one-off joke is hilarious to me. Don't look at me like that)

While their B-Plot is going on and intermittently shows them fleeing the law by car in gradually stupider situations - Bob has managed to corner Bart against the big window pane of the Mall. As he lifts his knife, about to strike... Snake's car suddenly crashes through that window and flies out of the mall above Bart, before ramming straight into Bob and splattering him on the pavement. The end of a sequence parodying the Mall Car Chase scene from the Blues Brothers.

"Dude, that was not a shortcut." Cut to both Bob and Snake getting handcuffed. Snake looks a little more sincere when he says "I'll call you!" to Ann-Doreen as the cops make him sit in the car. Mirroring that, Bob says "I'll kill you!" to Bart as the ambulance takes him away. Roll credits.

WELL THAT WAS A LONG ONE. LOL. I worked hard on this one, so for once I'll say; please reblog and give me your thoughts! I hope you liked it!!

BONUS INFOS:

This would be the second episode with Ann-Doreen (outside of like, crowd shots and other non-speaking appearances in the background) and the one to properly set up the relationship she has with Snake. Lots of fun for that poor bugger!

I've made all the panels rectangular because I wanted to try and work in a format that's similar to actually watching the show - it's not 16:9 (nor square like it should technically be for early seasons) but I think we get the feeling anyway :]

That one other guy in the prison is just this random unnamed prisoner from 12x10 'Pokey Mom'. His first appearance would thus be in that ep I made, since it predates season 12!

Also here's me knowing in advance I'm putting way too much effort into this post:

[xxchumanixx]

can you please do a tim bradford x fem reader where they are dating but he also her TO, so while they are on duty he is kinda harsh on her (like he is to lucy on the show) but off duty he is like so sweet to her. thank you <33

Sweet 'n Sour

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff

Word count: 1.098

Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! Actually thought about this kind of situation before, so let's see if I can make it come true (and match your expectations)! I'm a little nervous, but I hope you'll like it (at least a little bit)!

"God damn it, boot!" Tim shouted, slamming his car door shut angrily, making you flinch, before rounding the car and coming to a halt before you. "How many times do I have to tell you not to throw yourself in harms way at first sight!"

You were just back from a call were two kids were playing with a gun, when a shot fired, barely missing you, as you tried to stop them.

Tim had almost lost his mind, not talking to you on your way to your current call, until you had enough, provoking him until he had enough.

Rolling your eyes you briefly nodded, looking away from him.

Big mistake.

"Hey!" he warned, taking a step closer. "Don't roll your eyes at me, do we understand?"

Looking back up your eyes met his stern ones - nothing in those eyes hinted at the love he held for you in private, when the shift was over and you were lying in his arms at night.

Sighing you nodded, signaling him that you indeed understood.

"Good." he murmured, before turning around and walking towards the front door of the house infront of you.

Biting your lip you followed him.

You couldn't wait for your time as a rookie - as his rookie - finally being over. When he wasn't your TO anymore, you could finally stop the hiding.

At least after letting some time pass as to not look too suspicious.

Tim knocked at the door, as you joined his side, waiting for the owner to open it.

"Hello." a young man greeted you, when the door opened, his eyes nervously shifting from Tim to you and back.

Raising a brow you looked at Tim, who slightly shook his head. "Mr. Turner?" he wanted to know, looking at the man before you. He nodded, his hands nervously fidgeting at his sides.

"We're looking for a woman, her names Melissa McCarthey, and regarding our information she was last seen here, at your house."

The man chuckled nervously, again looking between you. "I don't know a Melis-" he wanted to respond, when he was interrupted by a scream, as a woman attacked him from behind, jumping on his back and hitting him on the head.

You jumped back in shock, as the collision caused them to stumble through the door and towards you.

Tim and you shared a look, both confused and shocked, before you went after them, pulling the woman from Mr. Turners back.

Tim handcuffed him, whilst you inspected the woman. Her clothes were dirty, her wrists showing signs of being bound together with ropes.

"Tim, it's her - it's Melissa McCarthey!" you told him, eyes wide in surprise as you recognized her.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Turner." Tim told him, shaking his head at the man, when he still insisted on not knowing her.

Whilst he took him under arrest, you called for an ambulance, checking the woman for any signs of injuries.

On your way back to the LAPD you looked out of the window, watching people enjoy their time off, walking dogs or riding a bike.

Sighing you were glad that your shift would be over soon, already looking forward to a warm bath and some tea.

"You okay?" Tim wanted to know, sparing you a glance, before looking back at the street. "Yeah, just tired." you responded, rubbing at your eyes.

"We didn't accomplish our goal for today, there is nothing to be tired of, boot." he responded coldly.

Barely holding back from rolling your eyes yet again you kept quiet, only nodding slightly.

When you entered the garage, you exited the car, slamming the door behind you in frustration.

He was right, you didn't accomplish your goal for today, something Grey surely had an opinion about.

"Tomorrow I want you to do 30 push-ups, before we go out there." Tim ordered, causing you to look at him in bewilderment, eyes wide.

"Wha-" you wanted to argue, but he cut you off. "40! For every time you complain ill make it ten more." he harshly gave back, eyes trained on you.

Nodding you accepted your fate, as you looked down, not wanting it to get even more push-ups.

It wasn't easy sneaking around, not being able to drive together or driving with your car to his house, so you took the bus, entering the house when Tim was already cooking, a delicious smell filling the room.

"Hey." he greeted you, smiling.

Every time you and him were together in private, it was such a stark contrast to his behavior as your TO, that you almost had to do a double check, just to be sure this was real.

"Hey." you gave back, smiling as well, as you put down your keys beside his on the dresser beside the door.

He met you halfway, his hands finding your hips as he kissed you. "I'm making dinner, pasta alfredo." he told you, his eyes finding yours.

"Perfect." you told him, smiling up at him, as he kissed you again, before he abruptly let go of you. "The pasta!" he shouted, as he ran to the stove, frantically stirring the pasta to not burn it.

Laughing you took off your jacket, hanging it up, before joining him in the kitchen. The food looked delicious, what you told him.

"Thanks, babe." he returned, placing a quick kiss on your temple, before he grabbed two plates, putting them down on the dining table.

You helped him by getting the cutlery, neatly putting it down beside the plates.

He finished the pasta, serving it before sitting down opposite you.

As you ate you didn't talk that much, besides a little smalltalk.

The food was delicious.

"What do you say if we take a bath afterwards? I bet your neck must hurt after today." Tim asked after finishing his pasta, taking a sip of his beer.

Nodding you smiled gratefully at him. "That would be nice."

He smiled back, standing up and rounding the table. "I'll run the bath while you eat up." He told you, kissing your forehead, before he went to the bathroom.

He really was the sweetest.

When you were sat in the tub together, he started to massage your neck, making you groan, satisfied.

He chuckled, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Thank you, baby." you mumbled, sighing. "Everything for you, love." he gave back.

"I love you, Tim. Even when you treat me like an ass at work." you told him, a smile stretching your lips. "I love you too," he returned, kissing your cheek.

"Boot."

[cutielando]

Hello, could you write a jealous!reader x sub!charles leclerc fic, please

subby | charles leclerc

synopsis: in which he surrenders to you

a/n: no actual smut in this one, kinda just danced around the whole dynamic of it rather than the acts themselves

pairing: sub!charles leclerc x dom!reader

my masterlist

To say you were furious was an understatement.

You were partying with Charles to celebrate his home win, and had been having a very good time for most of the night.

Up until she decided to flirt with your man, and he did nothing to stop her.

You had been thinking of stomping over to them and giving the girl who dared flirt with your boyfriend a piece of your mind, but you decided against it.

The best approach, which would 100% make Charles realize his wrongs, was not to fight with the girl in public. It was to jump him and show him who's the boss once you both got home.

And that's exactly what you did.

From the second you entered your shared apartment in Monaco, you were bossing him around like you always did whenever he would do this, so he already knew the drill.

"Take your clothes off"

"Get in the bedroom"

"Wait for me and think about what you did, Charlie"

Charles didn’t want to admit, but he found it so hot whenever you would become dominant. A lot of his friends believed that he wore the pants in the relationship, especially in the bedroom, but the truth was far from it.

In reality, you’re the one with the reins, and he loved things the way they were. He hadn’t realized just how much he liked being the one dominated until he met you.

You helped him realize he was submissive like a dog in front of you, something you reveled in.

He lay there on the bed, his clothes off and his body slumped against the bed. You were taking your sweet time getting ready for a long night in the bedroom, which made Charles even more excited for what was to come.

You silently exited the bathroom and stopped before him in front of the bed, eyeing him up and down as he observed you intently,

The whole setting was familiar to the both of you, ending up in this situation more often than Charles would like to admit.

“Charlie, we need to talk about your behavior tonight” you said, pouting and shaking your head as you took in his naked body with more attention.

Charles shivered under your intense gaze, the light breeze flowing through the room tickling his aching length. He was naked, feeling so vulnerable under your eyes, so helpless and small.

"I'm sorry, mommy" he whimpered out, biting his lip as he focused on your body language. Charles knew he was in for a very long night, but he wanted to get a sense of just how long and dragging it was going to be.

But you were unreadable to him in those moments.

"We've talked about this dozens of times, Charlie, and you still haven't learned" you shook your head, tauntingly turning around and walking around the room until you reached the magic closet.

The toy closet.

Charles' eyes widened when he saw you opening it and scanning its contents, knowing you were contemplating just how much you'll put him through for the night.

"I know, mommy, I'm sorry. I didn't realize what was happening" he said, making you smile as you finally found what you were looking for.

You turned around and dangled the two pairs of handcuffs you held in your hands, wiggling your eyebrows at your boyfriend.

Silently, you made your way to the headboard of the bed, taking each of his hand and handcuffing him to the bed, making sure they weren't too tight to hurt him.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. That just means I'm going to have to teach you a lesson once again" you said, kneeling down before him and running your acrylic nails up and down his thigh, leaving goosebumps along his skin.

He whined out, closing his eyes and allowing himself to succumb to your desires, ready to be yours for the rest of the night.

Just how you loved him.

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[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 15

Trigger Warnings: angst, cunnilingus, choking, salirophilia, bondage, asphyxiation, MDNI, odaxelagnia, safe word, orgasm refusal, spitting

The room turned cold. It was ghostly. Anger radiated through the room like a hot branding iron. None of them wanted to move out of fear they would be taken to the depths of hell. None of them breathed in case the air would be taken out of their lungs. Everything had changed after Chan walked into the house and called after Y/N. Chan's anger was dangerous. He himself was like the devil paired with Hyunjin they were demonic. They were close to death and death may even be a kindness. Not one of them knew what to expect from the female wolf. Not even, she, herself, knew what she was in for as she slowly walked into Chan's office. The floorboards creaked underneath her as she got closer. Her heart thumped in her throat as she struggled to swallow the saliva that poured into her mouth out of dread.

Chan stood there shocked with his arms crossed as he saw the state of his office, knowing full well his bedroom was ruined. What he didn't expect was Hyunjin's room to be destroyed along with Jeongin's. Jeongin was only a bystander to all of this, but sadly he became the target of her rage. As soon as Y/N reached Chan she stopped in front of him. He knew she was afraid. He knew she was riddled in fear but he said nothing. Waiting for her to speak, except she didn't. Nothing came out. She was mute. Silent. Before Chan could speak, a very angry Hyunjin stormed out of his room. His eyes glowed a deep shade of red as he headed towards her. He was angry. No, he was feeling rage. It hurt him deeply to know she went through his stuff and shredded it. It was her punishment and in return she punished him. Hyunjin grabbed her by the arm. Manhandling her down the stairs to the basement while Chan said nothing. Y/N became afraid knowing he was going to break her leg. He was going to force her to phase and she couldn't do it. She hated it but also she didn't know how to.

As soon as they reached the cold basement Hyunjin threw her down on the cold hard floor. Y/N whimpered but accepted her punishment as she fell. Hyunjin crouched down towards her, grabbing her throat to look at him. This caused her to spit on his face. Hyunjin laughed at her and squeezed harder, forcing her down to the ground with him as he laughed. His laugh was sardonic and she knew then she deserved it. What she didn't expect was Hyunjin's order to strip down naked, but Y/N obliged, knowing deep down he wouldn't hurt her. He loved her, so he wouldn't hurt her and because he gave her a safe word he would stop. The safe word was "alpha". Why, because she acted like an alpha all the time which made the punishment substantial. From then on Hyunjin punished her.

Hyunjin started his punishment by giving her twenty-six spanks with his hand, purposely making sure he didn't touch her mark on her ass. As she cried out, Hyunjin would start all over again, but she grinned and bared it. Once Hyunjin was satisfied he handed her over to Chan who too spanked her twenty-six times on her ass, thighs and wet pussy that started to drip. Her body was defying her but that was because she knew they loved her. From then on, Hyunjin chained her up on all fours. Both her wrists and ankles were handcuffed to metal cuffs, allowing her to be sprawled out and presented for them. At first, nothing happened, except gentle non-existent touches. Hyunjin would brush his hand over her wet pussy before blowing on it, careful not to touch her while Chan sat in front of her, holding her jaw as she cried. The guilt was written across her face as Chan held her jaw. She was sorry but she knew she had to receive it. Part of her was curious to see how far she could take it but part of her didn't want to.

Hyunjin took the punishment further and actually touched her this time. His hand gliding down her silky wet pussy before entering three fingers into her gummy cavern, pumping in and out of her until her orgasm built up before he stopped. Y/N cried out and growled but as soon as she did Chan would choke her, threatening to slap her if she complained, but the problem was the slaps were sending her more into arousal so Chan tried it. As soon as Hyunjin started eating her out and letting his tongue fuck her. Chan would slap her across the face when she was close, distracting her from the orgasm. Y/N begged and begged for release. She pleaded and pleaded but they would not let her. Hyunjin continued to play with her in amusement as he watched her slick slide down her legs as it waited for an alpha to fill her hole but none of them filled it.

Chan then took it upon himself to strip down presenting her with his cock but he refused to give it to her. It was numerous to him to see how quickly she opened her mouth and tried to shuffle forward to take his cock in her mouth. She looked deprived, malnourished, underfed. It was hilarious to them as they laughed at her, not caring that she was suffering. Y/N even screamed at them but they shushed her. Silencing her. Hyunjin decided on another tactic and walked over to Chan, kissing him harshly. Chan submerged in the feeling knowing it was overwhelming the wolf in front of them. She was in pain, completely turned on by the fact that two men were kissing. What made it worse for her was watching Hyunjin wrap his mouth around Chan's cock causing Y/N to let out an animalistic growl of jealousy. She didn't like seeing someone have their mouth around her alpha's cock. Chan was hers. No one else's. Y/N was ready to bite Hyunjin to pieces but Chan made it worse and touched Hyunjin's cock, slowly stroking it. Y/N begged and pleaded. Tears streaming down her face.

Eventually, they stopped and Hyunjin went back to touching her softly, watching the way she rapidly grinded on his hand for more friction. She was starting to feel sick with the lack of release. The thing that made it worse for her was her alpha wouldn't touch her where she needed him. She wanted his cock anywhere but he refused to. Instead, Hyunjin upped the pressure by using his gift without touching her. It started off with tingles in the bottom of her stomach and then it got worse. Her stomach ached with desire. Her pussy throbbed with need. She was getting dizzy and all they did was watch her. Chan and Hyunjin sat in front of her, watching her struggle and shake as they touched themselves. They watched her open her mouth, ready to catch any cum that came flying out. She was a feral woman who was sorry.

Y/N punched the floor with her fist in anger at Hyunjins gift. It was exactly like an intense orgasm that was refusing release, except it made her cum. Hyunjin's gift forced her to cum without an orgasm. It was barbaric and torturous. She swore profanities as her slick leaked onto the concrete floor and her mouth gaped open in need. Chan eventually satisfied that need and came all over her pretty face before spitting on her while Hyunjin came in her mouth, forcing her jaw shut so she swallowed. Still, there was no Chan touching and she was livid. She apologised several times and it aggravated her until they suddenly stopped. Chan ordered it to stop as she squirted everywhere, almost gagging out in pain. The refusal was too much that she shouted "Alpha."

Chan broke the chains off of her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly, and allowing her to cry. He didn't apologise for the punishment but he apologised for taking it too far as she hysterically cried. Chan had even offered to let her cum but she didn't want it. She felt sick in the stomach and saddened by the pain. Hyunjin on the other hand sat there awkwardly watching her, which caused Y/N to look at his tired eyes. Y/N frowned when she noticed something about Hyunjin's pubic bone. There was a mark hidden beneath the hair. A mark that looked like her mark. She recognised it but didn't say anything as she watched Hyunjin cover himself out of respect. It was a conversation for another day but right now all she wanted to feel was loved and that was what Chan and Hyunjin were giving her.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @linocz @maggicotton @jellymochii @itzreetal987 @jennibahng @vampkittenb82 @catlove83 @thatgirlangelb @pixie0627 @hyunmikim @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @tsunderelintz @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx @fr34k4c1dr41n

[nightlark100]

Alpha Pack Vs Hale Pack: Further adventures of Stiles Stilinski and Kevin the Demon Wolf 🐺

Derek: I thought Stiles was cooking tonight?

Peter: huh? Oh yes, he was supposed to. But he got kidnapped.

Derek: What?!

Isaac: Alpha pack took him

Derek: And the two of you are... waiting for a ransom demand?

Peter: We were actually waiting for Deucalion to call us begging for us to pick up our human. He'll probably be back in time for dinner but we might want to order pizzas just in case

Isaac: We have bets on how long it'll take. Boyd says it'll be max a few hours before they flee the town to get away from him.

Derek: Boyd knows too? Where is he?

Isaac: He went to the movies. He wanted to avoid Stiles tagging along, figured now was the best time.

Derek: He went to the movies while his pack mate was kidnapped

Isaac: Uh huh.

Peter: In fairness Nephew, the boy does get kidnapped at least once every few months. Even I kidnapped him!

*Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and resists the urge to bang his head against the wall*

--------------------------------------------------

*Stiles wakes handcuffed to a chair*

Stiles: Eurgh just once I'd like to wake up on a tropical vacation. Why do people keep doing this... is there some kind of yelp reviews for kidnapping victims and I'm just getting super high ratings? Ahh well... KEVIN GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE, I KNOW THIS IS YOU

Deucalion: Perhaps you should remember that you are in a position of vulnerability here, Mr Stilinski, and refrain from your usual level of sass

Stiles: oh that was me being restrained. And I would hardly call this a position of vulnerability

Deucalion: You're tied to a chair in an abandoned building with five alpha werewolves

Stiles: I choose to view it as five alpha werewolves are trapped in an abandoned building with me. What is with the abandoned building obsession anyway? Like, with Derek I get it. He was being broody Mcbrooderson and needed somewhere derelict from which to glare dramatically at passersby. But you? I expected better. I mean, if you're going to commit to this whole being a villain, you need to go all in. I don't see a single mounted skull of an enemy or even a dramatic chair for you to sit in and monologue from. Hell, the only piece of furniture in here is this chair and it's... Honestly, it's kinda comfy. Hmm.

Deucalion: I-

Stiles: Oh and by the way? You really should cut your losses and try again somewhere else. Derek is never going to buy into your whole GRR I AM ALPHA HEAR ME ROAR nonsense. I mean, you guys should get an image consultant or some kind of PR cause the whole offer sucks. And I get that you're embracing the idea of 'you catch more flies with manure than honey' with the grade A bullshit you're shoveling but it's such a weak pitch. Actually, maybe you should skip the rebrand and look at why you feel the need to pretend to be a monster.

Deucalion: wh... pretend?!

Stiles: Seriously. Peter didn't lean this hard into villainy and he was, by all accounts, an asshole before he went feral. Which is actually a shame cause he would have had an awesome evil lair. Ahh well, next time, next time. Anyway I'm getting distracted. My point was, you were apparently quite chill as an alpha before everything. You wanted peace and love and rainbows and fluffy kittens. I don't know what Brawny and the chiropodists nightmare had going on but I do know no one does a complete 180 on their personality without deeper issues. And I do get that you were in a horrible position, you'd just lost your vision, quite a few pack members and one betrayed you. That's enough to mess anyone up. But you still had some pack left, you had people you cared about and you just...

Deucalion: You're not a wolf. You couldn't understand the power that comes from killing your betas.

Stiles: I know Derek is much stronger with us than without us. No magical cure all power boost needed for him, just 100% pure alpha. Wait... is that it? Jeeze... I should have realised! It's nothing to be ashamed of, it is completely natural for a man your age to feel the need to... Compensate.

Deucalion: 😳

Stiles: But you need to take your midlife crisis out of my town. It was mildly amusing at first but now you're just getting obnoxious. We have exams coming up, can't be dealing with your nonsense. Just count yourself lucky that I'm too busy studying and not booting you out myself.

*Stiles sighs and pulls his hands free of the handcuffs he'd undone while talking, getting to his feet*

Stiles: But in all seriousness, you don't need more power, you never did. What you need is therapy. Just... All the therapy. And maybe a hug.

[jymwahuwu]

After watching the animation, I felt uncomfortable and had thoughts about handcuffs. just found a reason to be handcuffed and spanked by Wriothesley 🥵🙏💦💦

CW: yandere, forced imprisonment, abuse of power, non-consensual spanking, humiliation

For a whole week… you were uncooperative, stamping your feet in front of Wriothesley's face, arguing with him, or responding with perfunctory- "yes-yes", "got it.", "you're right again anyway". Why? He keeps you in this underwater prison and factory, restricting your freedom. He smiled lightly and gracefully, patting you on the head as if you just weren't mature enough. Like just punched the pillow with his fist, it was completely useless. The anger in your chest burned even brighter.

You were sulking that day, slowly poking at the food with your fork in the cafeteria, thinking about how to escape the Fortress of Meropide. A young and sweet voice sounded next to you. "You look unhappy. Cheer up. Want a milkshake?" "No, thank you." You replied quickly, without even glancing at who the person was. In the corner of your vision, a blue milkshake approaches you, and you turn around irritably.

"I told you no…" Inadvertently, your elbow touched the cup, and the whole cup fell to the ground and broke. You were startled to realize that it was the head nurse, Sigewinne. Guilt builds in you, and you're about to apologize and pick up the pieces, but you hear that annoying voice - Wriothesley's. His boots appear before you. "Wow, what a big scene. Do you mind explaining it?"

Sigewinne waved her hand and raised head to look at Wriothesley. "I'm fine, Your Grace."

Rebellion takes a place in your heart. You swallowed your apology and sneered. "I broke it."

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. "Really? Well, come to the office with me. Sigewinne, don't pick up the debris. I will ask people to clean it." Sigewinne gave you a worried look and explained. "It's really just an accident, not intentional, Your Grace…"

"Don't worry." He gave a reassuring smile. "Just going to the office to chat."

As soon as you entered the office, you heard the door being locked. Your heart skipped a beat, but you still maintained a stoic look.

Wriothesley walked slowly from the door to you, hugged his arm, and asked in a relaxed tone. "You've been very rude lately. What's wrong?"

You can't believe Wriothesley is actually asking this - "Don't you know you're the reason! When am I going to get out of jail! Why I have no idea how long my sentence will be extended!"

"This is what happens when someone disobeys." Administrator said, taking something out of his pocket. "And now I'm right. You don't look like you're fit to be released from prison."

He quickly lifted the back of your hand, and then with a sound, the handcuff locked your right hand. You suddenly broke into a cold sweat, but your other hand was grabbed and locked in the same way. "W-what do you want to do!" accompanied by a chuckle. "You look better this way, but it's not enough."

Wriothesley sat down leisurely, stretched out his hand, and pulled you onto his lap. As you screamed, a chill ran down your butt, and the covering material was pulled down. But he still felt that it was not enough, and even took off your underwear, not even allowing the underwear to stay on your calves, but threw it on the desk. Before this, you had never known that Wriothesley's strength was so irresistible and powerful. He always allowed you to push him away a little.

A hard slap on your ass. Terrified, you straightened your legs and kicked them, as if that would relieve the pain, but it didn't. "How dare you - how dare you spank me! Wriothesley, I will teach you a lesson once I get out!"

"Ha-I'm waiting." He said, holding back the laughter in his throat. "But now, you're being spanked by me, so watch your words."

The slaps landed on your butt one after another, and his thick arms were waving, showing no mercy, as the loud slapping sound proved. The pain urged your eyes to fill with tears, and you wanted to struggle, but the cold handcuffs reminded you of your position. "Stop this…you have no right to do this…"

"I have. And no one can stop me from doing this." While holding your waist, his big, rough hand slapped your right butt three times in a row. Just when you thought you had adapted… pain. You sobbed quietly, sniffling.

After the slap lasted… you don't know, 2 minutes or 5 minutes later? It seemed like a lifetime, and finally it stopped. "Poor you." The palm touched your heated butt and rubbed it gently, "It's all swollen. If you were obedient, it wouldn't be like this, right?"

"Asshole…" you just struggled to curse in a low voice, "um, let's start again." These few understatement words gave you a huge warning. The slaps started again, even harder than before. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to stop him. "…wait, wait, I'm sorry!! Don't start over!!"

"Ah, too late," he snickered, not stopping to spank. "Well, I can even hear you scolding me in your heart. Just be good, even a little bit, okay?"

What follows is a long afternoon. Wriothesley didn't spank you continuously, but kept you on his lap. He reviews the documents and signs and adds notes. Occasionally, he thinks of you and waves his arms to educate you. You were like a poor little pet, on his lap, with tears hanging from your eyelashes, your hands locked in handcuffs, and butt is swollen and radiating heat.

[hiiikiko]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗 [deadpool x spidey!ellie]

caught in your web m.list | tlou m.list

“You gotta trust me, Sheriff, I don’t know her at all!” Spidey yelled from behind the bars of the jail cell, her hands tightening around the bars.

A dramatic gasp echoed from behind her, “How dare you say that?! Throwing away all those late night rendezvous and nights full of passion and sloppy sex?!”

Ellie groaned and trapped the masked vigilantes collar, “Shut it, you’re only making this worse.”

“Ooh, I like it when you’re rough with me,” she giggled and wrapped her hands around Ellie’s arm.

Ellie knew there was no winning when it came to her… ‘Deadpool,’ ugh, what a stupid name. This chick was the absolute worse, the way she was obsessed with Ellie gave her the chills… not to mention how this chick knew EVERYTHING about her?? Even her name?? On top of all that, she was annoying as hell and a total poser! Like, come on! She obviously ripped off Ellie’s costume, right?!

“Sheriff, please, she’s the bad guy, not me,” Ellie groaned and slumped against the wall.

“Sorry, Spidey, but I don’t see a reason why a ‘hero’ should hide behind a mask like some damn criminal,” he chortled and took a sip of his coffee, exiting the room.

“This is all your fault,” Ellie mumbled and leaned her head against the wall.

“How did it all come down to this is what you’re thinking right, dear reader?” Deadpool turned to the wall.

“What the fuck,” Ellie quirked her brow and turned to see who the hell this freakazoid was talking to…. she was talking to no one.

“Well, it all started five hours ago when I met, Spidey, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the keeper of my heart, my snuggle bunny, my baby kitten, my.. well, you get the gist. I was lucky enough to run into her at the police shootout, she was tackling some lizard man and I was passing by when I saw the glimmer of red… I quickly helped her and may have accidentally shot a few officers… but, who cares about that right? Anyway, we made our daring escape and to this alley where I found out she’s a girl?? Like, whaaaaaaat?? I found out because I felt boobs when I tackled her, although… they’re kinda small..”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, so I dragged her along to this amusement park where she proposed on top of the ferris wheel—.”

“I was trying to tie my shoe.”

“We shared a romantic dinner at the pier—.”

“You stole a slice of pizza from a old lady.”

“She won me a teddy bear—.”

“I was trying to escape through a booth and the bear wouldn’t come off my hand because of these stupid webs.”

“It was the most romantic night of my entire life,” she sighed dreamily, “but then just as I was about to kiss her, this dumbass runs towards a police officer and gets us both arrested, me for breaking a few laws here and there and her for being the best person ever?? Stupid, right?”

“Uh, no, you’re an actual murderer.”

“I’m a changed person now, honey,” Deadpool quickly turned to Ellie and nodded, making a heart symbol with her hands.

“You’re just lucky they didn’t take our masks,” Ellie groaned and flipped her off.

“Ooh what would’ve happened? Would you have put me in my place? Handcuffed me? Maybe spanked me?”

Ellie’s cheeks turned as red as her mask, “Shut up! J-Just find me a way outta here,” she grumbled and paced around the cell, looking for anything to get them outta there.

“Oh, is that what you’ve been waiting for? Why didn’t you say something, I stole that pig’s keys two hours ago,” she dangled the keys in front of her, Ellie couldn’t see her face but could feel the smirk radiating through the leather of her mask.

“You’re the worst,” she grumbled and unlocked the door.

“You can’t say that in bed,” there she goes again, Ellie rolled her eyes and pushed the door open.

“Here’s the plan, we—.”

BAM!!

“What the fuck!” Ellie yelled as Deadpool kicked the door down and quickly knocked the guard out, reaching behind the counter to grab her guns and katanas, “A warning next time, will you?!”

“Ohh, so there will be a next time then,” she giggled and tied her gun holster around her waist, “Can’t wait.”

Ellie shook her head and made her way for the exit, “I sure can,” she muttered as she exited the building and swiftly put as much distance between her and that deranged woman.

Upon returning back to her apartment, Ellie climbed through the window and flopped onto her bed, rummaging through her backpack for her phone when a piece of paper fell out… it read: ‘Spidey x Deadpool xoxo’ and had a picture that looks like it could’ve been drawn by a toddler of her and Deadpool making out… and not to mention the 136 page handwritten smut filled fan fiction attached to it..

“Gross,” she grimaced and threw it into the paper bin.

That was when Ellie decided to never, ever get involved with Deadpool again..

[a/n:] I FINALLY WROTE IT YAYYYYYYYYY, kinda short but I wanted to write something today :3

[zeke-fanfucs]

Who’s this pretty boy. It’s Jack “ the highroller” Daniel! Ain’t he a looker? @iincogneeto I hope I got him right! Really like imagining scenes with him!

I’m assuming you too wanted to be tagged

@bookwor-mmm

@solzticesoulz

Idk what oda’s tumbler was

You’re My Lucky Ace

⸻

Karmor didn’t really do casinos.

Too much noise. Too many people. Too many bright, flashing lights and sweaty men pretending to be lucky.

He stood awkwardly near the slot machines, a foot and a half taller than the average crowd, his hood shadowing most of his face. Somewhere in this mess of cigars, cologne, and fake laughter was their bounty — a data thief known for hacking into galas and vanishing into velvet curtains like some dollar store magician.

Hipswitch was three floors above, grumbling into comms

“Don’t move. I’ve almost got visual—ah, wait. There’s a security guy here. Real smug. Real annoying. Think he’s headed your way, actually—”

Too late.

A man in a silk black suit and the kind of smirk you only earn by cheating the universe sat himself down at Karmor’s table, uninvited. His sleeves were rolled, his eyes golden and daring, and his whiskey glass left a ring on the velvet.

“You must be the ace I’ve been hearing about,” the stranger said. “Sharp look. Dangerous aura. And you’re sitting so alone. That’s a crime in itself.”

Karmor tilted his head. He said nothing. He never did.

Jack, aka The Highroller, took that as a yes. Or a challenge.

“Name’s Jack,” he said with a wink. “You can call me whatever you want though. Long as it’s not ‘loser.’”

⸻

Hipswitch slammed down into the chair between them two minutes later

“You touch him again and I swear I’ll detonate your kneecaps.”

Jack held up his hands, delighted. “Whoa there, pardner. Didn’t mean to rustle your gears. I was just admiring the local art. Very… brooding.”

“He’s not art. He’s my partner.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “…So you admit he’s pretty, though?”

Karmor blinked. Once. Twice.

Then calmly wrote on his little notepad and held it up:

“Is this guy supposed to be here?”

“No,” Hipswitch growled. “He’s freelance security. A glorified bouncer with dice in his pants.”

“And hearts on my sleeve,” Jack added, sipping his drink. “Which reminds me, I spotted your guy. The bounty. Slimy creep in a silver vest. He’s up in the private room pretending he owns the place.”

Karmor stood. Hipswitch squinted.

Jack grinned.

“What, you think I’m bluffing?” he asked. “Tell you what—I’ll help catch your thief. You two let me tag along. Just for tonight.”

“No.”

Karmor, however, scribbled something.

He held it up.

“Deal.”

Hipswitch looked betrayed.

⸻

The bust was chaotic.

Turns out, Jack was right about the bounty. Also turns out he had absolutely no plan beyond “make a scene and punch people.”

He tackled the thief through a poker table mid-hand, cards flying. Karmor knocked out the second guard with a chair leg. Hipswitch ended up brawling with some poor soul who thought he was the dealer.

They made it out, cuffs on the bounty, sirens in the distance.

Jack had a busted lip and a brighter smile than ever.

“You ever think about switching teams?” he asked Karmor, wiping blood from his jaw. “Y’know. Leaving the bounty gig. Becoming a blackjack dealer. Or my boyfriend. Whichever’s easier.”

Karmor stared.

Then pulled out his notepad.

“You’re insane.”

“Only for you, Ace.”

“GET AWAY FROM HIM,” Hipswitch yelled, tackling Jack into a shrub.

⸻

Later, as they dumped the bounty into lockup, Hipswitch sulked in the corner while Karmor cleaned his blade.

Jack, handcuffed by choice (“for the bit”), leaned over.

“So… what’s the next bounty?” he asked.

Karmor held up a fresh note.

“You.”

Jack’s grin widened.

“God, I love this planet.”