femdom | random character x reader | smut; mdni
it's 3:30am right now but i just had the most beautiful idea
you're a junior police officer who just got promoted to the special crimes unit, and your newness has naturally got the team coddling you and avoiding involving you when possible. plus, it doesn't help that you're sweet in nature; cheerful, soft-spoken, dressing in a spring wardrobe despite the coldest seasons that never seem to end within the chilly confines of the office--- you don't exactly look the part of a ruthless, thick-skinned detective that wears their mortality like a second skin and at any moment's notice, would lunge into the heart of terrorist gunfire. if anything, you look like a body they'd ID at the scene. another statistic. nobody really understands how you got into this industry or why you're in it, let alone what miracle worked in your favour to get you this far. nobody questions it either, though. it's hard to when you're so good at keeping your head down and obeying the instructions they give you, which is very uncharacteristic of every rookie they've ever been assigned.
so there you are again, babysitting a criminal. a grown man. it's your fifth day with him doing nothing while your team runs around sprouting branches from the latest case; all of which are short, rotten and weak. you've never seen more dead-ends in your life. then again, there is something off about this case, and while nobody believes you, you're confident that they're missing something huge, and the complexity of the whole thing is a clue on its own.
you're also ninety-nine percent sure that the seemingly disposable lackey that they've caught purely for dummy intel is more important than they think, but who you were kidding?
you'd embarrass yourself more trying to explain it to them than having them figure it out anyway knowing you were right. they were all high and mighty government ghouls; it'd not only be a waste of breath, but a useless donation of dignity, too. and that was already hard to keep. not like you started with much.
you pause, raising your gaze from your laptop to the stranger in the corner of the cabin. for all five days that you'd been around him, he hadn't spoke. he'd smirked, scowled, glared like he was going to kill you, but hadn't spoke, and you'd reconciled with creating a mental guidebook on his physical cues to figure out what he needed in what moment. furrow of the brows and zoning out means 'i will cannabalise you and then myself if i don't eat in the next ten minutes'. bouncing of the leg means 'i need to pee right fucking now'. grinding of the jaw means 'i want to sleep but i also can't sleep but if i don't sleep i might miss something. i'll just rest my eyes...'
somehow, hearing him voice his needs was enough to disrupt your entire system. it was just two words, but you felt out of your depth; did he want something? surely, he wanted something. what did he figure out that finally prompted him to talk?
you gnaw at the inside of your cheek, debating whether or not to answer. that felt dangerous. you push yourself to your knees from where you're draped over the bed in the middle of the room, watching your show and shamelessly inhaling the head detective's lunch donut. she'll get over it. in her eyes, you could do no wrong if she expected nothing from you.
"i'm bored," your hostage calls out again. he stares at you impatiently and cocks his head. "i know you can talk. talk to me."
'no, I don't need to take a fucking piss. i'm bored."
'okay,' you say, but do nothing about it. You just continue to stare at him as he stares at you, the awkward silence yawning wider between us as he waits and you make him wait longer. your show hums into the quiet, unpaused.
'can you pick a show that we can both watch, at least?" he says gruffly. "your shit pisses me off. everyone's a blockhead and the plot hasn't moved anywhere for a whole season."
'it's a slow burn," you mumble. 'it's supposed to be that way."
'slow burn?' he scoffs. 'there's not even a spark. you've been watching this shit since i wound up here and they haven't even found the sticks to make one. change it.'
you sniff. 'i like my show. and for your information, they just held hands. if you were paying attention, you'd know that. can you be quiet now, please? unless you have something useful to say." you stare at him. he's quiet. 'that's what i thought.'
he wrinkles his nose at me, but there's no real heat behind it. you guess the five days mellowed him out. what used to be a feral dog of a man spitting in the lead detectives face is now just some random guy trying to watch your low-budget romance show that has too many seasons. all the tattoos and muscles and scars mean nothing, now. he's into your girly show, and he knows it.
begrudgingly, you angle my laptop his way.
'stacy is just about to confess," you say softly. 'i know you're watching. i know you'd want to see it happen.'
'whatever,' he grinds out, but doesn't complain. he does squint, however. you faintly recall seeing something on his file about being short sighted and sigh, getting up and bringing the laptop with you. great. so he's blind and into girly shows-- is he even trying to be a problem? he's pretty bad at it. you're starting to feel like if you just asked nicely, he'd tell me whatever you want.
i pull a seat up next to him and set my laptop down on the table.
you point at the screen. 'you're going to miss it if you stare at me."
he quirks a brow instead. 'you're a little weird, doll."
you frown. 'that's a strange way of saying thank you.'
'c'mere and i'll show you how grateful i am.'
'your record doesn't say you have any sexual assault or harassment charges against you,' you say, looking away. 'i'm disappointed.'
"i'm serious, doll. was just tryin' my luck."
"you've been taking good care of me, too.'
okay guys lowkey i opened my drafts and i do NOT remember what the idea was so i'm going to just freestyle it
'for such a sweet face, you can be pretty cold when you want to."
you sigh, slamming your laptop shut. the sharpness of the sound startles him--- this large, tough man relentlessly flirting with you--- and when he looks at you, this softness in your demeanor has completely dispersed. what's left is a cold, hard shell, a robotic expression and calculating eyes.
"what do you think is happening right now?'
"what do you think this is?" you murmur, setting your laptop aside and shifting your chair to face him head-on. you swing one leg over the other and cock your head. "did you think we were friends?"
"on our way there, maybe."
a small smirk flickers at the corner of your lips, and you lean forward, planting your chin on your fist. "funny. you think you're funny."
"you're two-faced as fuck."
"and you're hiding something."
he lifts his chin. "oh. so you wanna talk business, doll?"
"depends. are you going to talk? or am I going to have to make you?'
he sneers. "try your best."
the laugh that spills from your mouth is sweet-sounding, gentle, like bells. it's innocent enough. but the looseness of your posture and the way you hold yourself makes it sound nothing short of deranged--- and now, that smallness of your character, that unassuming quietness, the steady sweetness... it all becomes increasingly clear that it was a veil for whatever unpredictable monster writhed inside.
"what do you think i'm going to do to you?" you touch your chest. "me? lil ol me? the lackey?"
"i'm not one to underestimate."
"are you one to overestimate, then?"
he grits his teeth. "nothing i won't be prepared for. if you're looking for answers, then you won't find them in me."
"won't I?" you purr. "See, i've been studying. I've been spending some time with you. I know that you know something important."
"what... what are you doing right now?"
"what are you talking about?"
he squints. "why are you talking to me like that?"
you lift one leg, planting your foot on the edge of his chair between his knees. his breath hitches, and his gaze darts from your toes to your face as though the double take might make him see you better. then you kick.
his chair swings backwards and hits the ground.
"language," you tut, standing over him. he wriggles on the floor, yanking against his restraints. there's a new kind of panic possessing him, now. not the kind that comes from the fear of getting hurt, but the fear of his own reaction, the fear of his unknown. you stand with a leg on either side of his ribs, staring down at him as though you are watching listlessly through a screen. 'relax. i won't do anything you don't want me to do."
you grin. "you talk so big for someone who's face is so red. you like this, don't you? I knew you would. i've been watching closely, you know. i figured that violence would do nothing for you. it's not really in your head that you're not a winner in this situation, is it? because you know that you could get yourself out at any minute. but you won't. you know why?"
his snarls at you, bucking off the chair like the momentum will swing him upright again. He tries to twist on to his side, and you frown, stomping on his shoulder. He hisses as the ground slams into his back.
"well," you continue. "it's because I know you're interested in me. and that's your weakness, isn't it? you know someone's coming for you, so you think, 'i might as well have fun'. But no. No no no."
the panic seems to flare as you lower yourself on to your knees, hovering over him in a straddle. of course, there is nothing objectively wrong about what you're doing. you could make the excuse that you're about to hit him, punch him, have your way with him to hopefully choke out an answer--- in which case he should be completely fine. but it's clear that you were right about one thing. you smirk.
'silly darling,' you coo. 'you think I wouldn't pick up on the fact that you want to be treated like a dog?"
"you've been getting hard getting hand fed and walked to go piss. did you think I wouldn't notice?"
his cheeks flare red, and he sputters. "you--- you---"
"y-y-you," you mock, dropping your weight on to his stomach and rolling your eyes. you seize his face with one hand and wiggle it, pouting at him. "me, what? me, me, me? is that what you've been thinking about? is that what you've been exciting yourself over?"
he pants, his chest heaving with each breath. the more he looks at you and the more he talks, the more red his face grows. nervous sweat collects at his temples, and his eyes flutter. lust wars with outrage in those dark, arrogant eyes, and you revel in it, bathe in it, thrive in it.
his feeble attempt to turn away from the intensity of your stare only pushes his face into your palm, and you grin, taking the opportunity to reel your hand back and strike him. he gasps, bucking up and off the chair. you squeal, delighted, as you are lifted off the ground.
"i guess not. but you have words, don't you?" you croon. "come on. say them."
he grinds his teeth, glaring at you. a red handprint blooms over the side of his face, and as if seeing exactly what you're seeing--- this large, imposing criminal rendered into a pathetic mess beneath you, trembling and hot and sweaty with need--- he shudders.
"fuck. fine. you got me."
you cover your mouth, trying to smother a smug laugh. "I got you?"
"good boy, answering me so honestly." you drag your hand down his chest, over your own thigh, behind you. he squeezes his eyes shut as fingers ghost over the probing outline of his cock. "you want me to take care of that?"
you pull your hand back. "oh?"
"fuck!" he barks. "yes! fuck! Please!"
you chew the inside of your cheek. you hadn't meant to find a thrill in all of this, but somewhere along the way, you had discovered that you may have enjoyed this more than you thought. you fight another delirious smile and press your palm against him, your heart lurching in your chest at the faint whine echoing in the back of his throat.
"tell you what," you whisper. "let's make a deal.'
"i'm not answering you for shit. you can't make me." he glares at you. "and i'll report you for pulling this shit."
"just hear me out," you say sweetly, nimbly undoing the buttons of his pants and pulling down the zip--- without breaking eye contact with him once. "you can listen, right? dogs can listen."
his cheeks flame again, and he clamps his jaw shut.
"good boy," you croon. "now, first of all, let's get one thing straight. it doesn't matter what you tell them. they'll never believe you. second, whatever you tell me, I won't be telling them, because I want this to be my case. I can't have them taking credit for my efforts, can I? No, that's right. And thirdly..."
you hook a finger under the waistband of his boxers, tugging it away from his cock. somewhere along the way he had grown pliant. he stopped struggling. he stopped trying to bite off your face. now, he looks like he'd do anything to wrap your pretty hand around his length and get to work, even if it means resorting to begging, whining and pleading to the point of no return.
"thirdly?" he pants, clenching his fists.
you smile. "thirdly, for every answer you give me, i'll make you cum."
he flinches. 'that's your reward? no fucking man can cum that---"
"oh, but you can," you say, leaning back against his thighs. "and you will. what do you say?"
the look that scrunches his face together is deliciously conflicted, and even more so needy. but no matter how conflicted he might be, his decision was already made--- and his answer arranged all nice and pretty for the taking.
when the detectives come back, you're feeding the hostage soup. the bowl sits on the table, steaming, and you're negotiating a next mouthful as he lays there, seemingly resistant.
what they don't notice is his flushed cheeks, the undone button of his pants or the way he breathes--- hot and heavy, as though he is running a fever. what they do notice, however, is that you're glowing, a bit more cheerful than usual and a bit brighter than they're used to. You turn to them with a smile.
"Oh. Welcome back. Any luck?"
"Barely," the lead detective sighs, shedding her jacket. "Another dead end. Thankfully we've got a tip to look into, but that's tomorrow's problem. Did he talk?"
"No," you say, seemingly dejected. "I tried, but it was the same. Not a word."
"Silence?" The lead detective muses, quirking a brow. "That's a new one. That's suspicious."
"That's what I'm saying."
"You want someone to stay back with you for the next few days?"
"Oh, no." You grin, looking back at him. "We'll be fine."
