It Takes Two | Sylus & Mc

heartbeat between your teeth

Summary: A pleasant afternoon with your husband is rudely interrupted by a phone call.

or; Disco interrupts your beach day tryst with a very inconvenient call. Neither of you are particularly concerned with the panic of the auction house; you'd much rather indulge in pleasures of the flesh, and talk of your (seventh) spontaneous wedding.

wc: 3.8k~ (SICKENING)

cw: fem!reader (AFAB + she/her pronouns), light mentions of (canon typical) human trafficking and drugs, mentions of violence, spoilers for sabaody arc!, reader is morally grey, some violent imagery, mentions of food, smut, praise, feminine petnames ('good girl', etc), light dacryphilia, light come eating, fingering, p in v, overstim, low-key dumbification(?) reader has a thing for hands

AN: majority of the phonecall dialogue is pulled directly from doffy's cameo in saboady. also shoutout to nyla (@ofoceansandtombsanew) for helping me with doffy's spanish dialogue because my spanish is. less then stellar LMAO you're a real one girl <33 (english TL is in the end notes!)

heart divider is by the lovely @/enchanthings ! mdni banner by @/arminsumi !

The sea is in good spirits today, and so are you.

You watch the gentle lull of the tide against the shore. Doffy picked a good spot: your shared folding chair is tucked neatly beside a little glass table, whose attached umbrella spared you from the worst of the sun. The rest of the family is out of sight and mind; it’s quiet without their antics but you're both grateful for this rare moment of privacy. It would be a long while before another chance presented itself like this, so you pounced on it, ushering those who didn’t want to stay onboard the ship into town (and Doffy putting up a mini Birdcage just to be sure). And so you find yourself sprawled across your husband's lap, legs dangling over the arms of the chair, savoring every sun-soaked second alone like a rare delicacy.  

The island you’ve stopped at is an easygoing one. A nice change of pace from the chaotic highs and lows of the Grand Line’s open waters. It’s something plucked straight from a postcard– lush palm trees dancing with the breeze, streaks of white clouds spilled against the blue of the sky like paint on a canvas. It’s warm, but pleasantly so; enough to soften the tension in your shoulders. A distant seagull cries out in what you decide is delight at the good weather.

Beneath you, Doffy shifts, his big hand stroking fondly at your thigh. He lingers at the border of your sundress but keeps his touch tame. "I hope that smile is my doing," he says, and you feel your grin widen at the pleasant rumble of his voice. 

"Well, it is now," you giggle. "I was just thinking about how happy the birds are today."

He chuckles, dimples peeking out. "The birds?"

"The seagulls, specifically. I hear them singing about how nice the weather is."

"Ah, I see. I wasn’t aware that you spoke seagull.”

“It isn’t too difficult of a language. Most of it is screaming, really. Sometimes for food other times to warn one another of predators–or, like today, sometimes they just scream for joy.”

“I thought they were singing?’

“Screaming is singing in their culture.”

Doffy laughs, a sound like rolling thunder. “However did you become so acquainted with the particulars of seagull culture?”

“Trebol and Diamante,” you deadpan. “They aren’t seagulls but with the way they eat they may as well be.”

He hums. The conversation ebbs away with the tide. You nestle into the comforting silence and the crook of your husband’s shoulder. The buttons on his shirt are half-way undone and you take advantage of his exposed skin; Doffy’s heat is soothing, cozy in the way a fireplace is on a wintry night. You press your cheek to it with a contented sigh. He slides his palm up your leg and lets it settle at your hip. Your fingers decide they want to wander too, so they creep up his stomach to his chest, tracing lazy circles over his heart. Doffy gives you a squeeze in return and kisses the crown of your head.

“We still have some time before we need to report back in,” he murmurs into your hair. “Where would you like to go next?”

“Do we have to go anywhere at all? I’m more than content right here.”

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” You press an open mouthed kiss to his throat. He gives you another squeeze. “I quite like this little island. They have a nice beach,” kiss, “and mangos,” kiss, “that one bookstore looked cute,” kiss, “and did you hear? Their honorary mayor is a cat named Señor Bigotes. Señor Bigotes, Doffy! Is that not the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard?”

Mischief pulls his lips into a smirk. “I can think of a few things actually–” and without warning, his hand shoots up to fondle your breast. A startled sound leaps from your throat, a breathy thing somewhere between a whine and a yelp. “ –that sound being one of them.” 

You smack at his bicep. “Ass!”

Not a shred of remorse is reflected in his sunglasses. “Would you have me any other way?”

You sigh, not without fondness. “I suppose not. But, like I was saying, I’m just fine staying here.”

He nods. “Then it’s here we’ll stay,” he says, and that was that. Once Doffy made up his mind about something there was nothing anyone could do to change it. 

“And since we’re staying…” gently, he tilts your head up by the chin. “Why don’t we get married?”

You just manage to hold back a laugh. Seven times Donquixote Doflamingo has asked you to marry him. All seven times you have said yes. And so you have had seven different weddings, on seven different islands, followed by seven different honeymoons. And yet each time he asks this question, it is with the same tenderness and sincerity as the first. As if he were cracking himself open and inviting you to hold his bloody, beating heart. 

You press your palm flat over the space where it beats. A steady tune drums beneath his skin; your favorite song. 

(Sometimes, you think that if he could, he would pull it from the cage of his ribs and give it to you. Sometimes, you wish you could do the same for him. Give yourself to him in whole.)

“You flatter me, Doffy,” you coo. “Really? You’d do it again?”

His mouth twitches down. “Are you doubting me?”

“No, never.”

“Then what’ll it be?”

You really do laugh this time–he sounds so serious. “Do you honestly have to ask? My answer will always be the same; you should know that by now!”

His grin is as brilliant as a diamond. “Is that a yes?”

Something soft and petaled unfurls between your ribs. You answer with a kiss– a proper one, this time. He tastes like sea salt and the syrupy sweet of mango juice. Groaning, he kisses back heatedly. He cradles your head to pull you in deeper, closer. You allow him to guide you in, shifting to straddle his waist.

You're flushed tight against each other, no room for air; it’s not enough. You want to pry open your chest cavity like an oyster and tuck him safe inside you, your treasure. You want him to eat your heart like a pomegranate so you can lick the red of your life from his chin. You want to meld to him like the fabled soulmates of Plato, four arms, four legs, two souls as one.

You want him to fuck you. 

Thin cotton is the only barrier between your clothed sexes. He twitches under you, already eager to bury himself inside you. Arousal coils tight in your core. You give your hips a languid roll, deepening the kiss. Wandering hands run down your back, dip beneath your dress–

Pere-pere-pere-pere-pere! Pere-pere-pere-pere-pere!

Doffy's head lolls back with a frustrated groan. You bite your cheek, holding back a curse. 

The snail transponder. 

It had sat, mostly ignored, next to his drink on the table. Now it springs to life, stalked eyes wide and alert, it's droning a reminder of other priorities. Reluctantly, you situate yourself in your original positions. Doffy gives the device a withering glare; pleasure will have to wait for business. 

"Someone had better be dead," he grumbles, snatching the receiver.

Before Doffy can even get a word in there's an explosion of noise. A man's voice babbling almost incoherently. You catch the words Sabaody, and pirates, but everything else slips through your fingers with his sniveling. 

“Stop blubbering and tell me the situation,” Doffy cuts in. “State your name and business!”

The man on the other end coughs, a wet rasping noise that reminds you of rusted blades. “Th..this is Disco, reporting from the Auction House in Sabaody Archipelago!” Disco takes a gasping breath. “Mister Doflamingo! We need you here right now! It’s terrible–the biggest disaster we’ve ever seen–!” another gasp, “A celestial dragon has been attacked! All of our merchandise has escaped!”

You blink, surprised. Someone attacked a celestial dragon? On Sabaody, so close to the marine base? What kind of idiot would do something like that? 

You see Doffy’s eyebrows perk and know he’s having similar thoughts. “Who?”

“Straw hat,” Disco wheezes. “Straw hat Luffy and his crew.”

‘Straw hat’? That sounded familiar; one of the rookies, maybe? If you think hard enough you can conjure a shaky image in your mind, a wide grin and the red-ribboned hat that gave him his name. You’ll have to ask Doffy about it later.

And from the looks of it, Doffy does know something; he’s laughing. A full bodied, belly deep laugh. 

“This is no laughing matter!” Disco wheezes. You think, idly, that he might have been stabbed. “This is your shop, you know! Mister Doflamingo,” he pleads, shakily, “Where are you right now?! The shop has lost all credibility, and then there’s Roswald’s family too! They’re definitely going to lash out at us–do something to fix things!”

Doffy is still laughing. “Seriously…Human trafficking is so old fashioned, you idiot.” 

“...Eh?”

“It’s all about smiles now!” Doffy explains plainly, as if speaking to a small child. “Smiles!”

Now that you know this isn’t  actually important you’re impatient for this call to end; the excitement from earlier begins to stir once more. You nip at his collar. Doffy glances at you. Locking gazes, you lick a hot stripe up his throat. He grins wickedly at the want in your eyes. “Soon,” he mouths, patting your thigh.

“Disco,” he coos, “I’m giving the shop to you. So don’t be callin’ me anymore!” Another laugh bubbles out of him as you lave your tongue along his jaw. 

“What?!” Disco shrieks, appalled. “You’re abandoning us during the worst crisis we’ve ever had?!”

You feel him tense at the outburst. You rub soothingly at his chest and continue to pepper kisses onto him but this does not dull the sharpness of his tone. “Quiet, you annoying bastard! While you sit there blaming me for your own misfortune, a “New-Era” draws ever closer, Disco-kun. The navy has given orders forcing me–no, us–into active duty!”

Doffy reaches for his mango juice and takes a languid a sip from his straw, giving the ice a swirl. He downs the rest of it with a satisfied “ah!”

“Knowing this, what do you see on the horizon, Disco-kun?” The empty glass clinks heavily against the table. You’re more than a little distracted by the way the sunlight glimmers on his golden bracelet. “The Whitebeard Pirates versus the Seven Warlords of the Sea!”

Again, Doffy laughs, rich and deep. Disco can only gape in shock. Before he can start gibbering again Doffy ends the call. Go-cha! The snail transponder closes its eyes and droops, a puppet with no strings, lifeless. 

“Now then,” Doffy purrs. “I do believe that I was proposing?”

You run a finger down the path of the gold winding down his arm, tracing the curve of his bicep. “Oh, I think you were doing a little more than that.”

“Really?" he smirks. He pulls off his sunglasses, rosy eyes darkened with lust.  "I can’t seem to recall. Care to remind me?”

“But of course.” You move to straddle him once more. This time there is no teasing, no hesitation. Doffy slips a hand beneath your dress skirt and yanks your panties down. The fabric is left bunched mid-way on your legs. You widen your stance a little more, sucking a mark onto his neck, as he traces circles on the inside of your thigh. 

“Doffy,” you whine, leaning into his touch. “Please…”

He ghosts the pads of his fingers along your vulva. They come away slick. “Please what, my sweet?”

Fire burns your cheeks, your neck, your center. You want it to consume you. “Inside,” you plead. “Put ‘em inside me, please.”

He kisses behind your ear. “Good girl.” 

You whine again, pulsing at his words. “Doffy…”

Teeth press against your bottom lip as he finally slips his middle and ring fingers into you. You grasp at his shirt for purchase; their familiar length curls upwards within you, seeking out the spot that makes you see stars. You arch forward, pushing the heel of his palm against yourself in a way that makes your walls clench. He shifts a touch the left; you suck in a breath, eyes fluttering shut. You feel him smirk. There. 

What began as gentle exploration becomes a merciless charge forwards. Rhythmically, he pumps in and out, in and out, striking his target without mercy.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he says hotly into your ear. “Give it to me. Almost there.”

Nails brand red crescent moons into his shoulders. Every part of you burns. If you lose your grip, you think you'll be engulfed by the flames, turn to ash in his arms. You want it more than anything. “Doffy!”

“Almost,” he pants. “So close, just a little more–!”

With a final thrust, you are undone. Pleasure burns you away to nothing. A mewling noise falls from your lips as you scrabble desperately at his back. Cruel fingers wring you for all you can give, continuing their administrations until you’re teetering on the edge of madness, crying your husband’s name with every movement.

There are tears pricking your eyes when Doffy unzips his pants. You whimper, but not in fear. Pearly rivulets of pre-cum trickle down the head of his blushing cock; he’s big, thick too, and throbbing with desire. 

He swipes some onto his thumb. He need not even ask; your mouth is already open and waiting when he presents it to you. “Good girl,” he praises as you lick him clean. It’s a bit salty, but with a sweet undertone. And all yours. 

He pulls out of your mouth and squishes your cheeks, fingers damp with your saliva, to cant your head back. It takes a moment to realize, your mind clouded under the thick haze of passion, but you let out a breathy laugh when it clicks; he’s admiring the teardrops swimming in your eyes. 

“What a sight you are,” he sighs, reverent. “An angel, caught right in my arms.”

All you can manage is a soft moan in response. You feel as if you are both floating and sinking, caught between the height of ecstasy and the depths of hedonism. You think you might be drooling in more ways than one. Le petit mort, some call it. ‘The little death’. If this is what it feels like to die, you would cross into eternity with a smile. 

Doffy positions himself at your entrance, giving his shaft an idle stroke. 

“Do you think you can handle all of me, my angel?” he asks. “Use your words.”

You ball his shirt in your fists, grounding yourself. “Yes,” you manage, nodding. “I can take it, I want it.”

His lips meet yours in a searing kiss. It is want and ache and a bloody heart. “Good girl.”

Slowly, gently, he begins to ease into you. Big hands hold you steady as you take deep breaths. Deeper, deeper, deeper. You welcome all of him into you, feel your walls flutter around each inch as it sinks in. He hisses, twitching, but keeps hold of his last threads of composure. Finally, he stops. 

A tear falls through your lashes. You’re stretched, full, and it feels divine. You squeeze your eyes shut and take in one last deep breath. 

Doffy kisses the wetness from your cheek. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

As always, he starts slow. A careful drag of his hips that has you digging your nails into him again. Then back in. His jaw is ticking in anticipation, wanting more, more, but he keeps the beast muzzled a few moments longer. When you start to bounce on your own, juices running down your legs, he knows you're ready. 

He grips the plush of your hips tight as he grunts, thrusting forcefully into you. All illusions of restraint are shattered; the beast is free, and it is hungry. He pistons into you with such beautiful brutality that you weep, shuddering as another orgasm rips through you like lightning.

You slump onto his shoulder, eyes rolling back as he continues to fuck you. Your body is limp, pliant and soft like fresh clay, his hold the only thing preserving your shape.

“Such a good girl,” he pants, “taking me so well. You want it, huh? Want me to, ngh, fill you up real good?”

Tears are streaming down your face. “Please,” you slur, squeezing around him. 

He curses. Impossibly, he starts to move faster. That familiar tightness builds in your core and you sob as you cum for a third time, pleasure and pain swirling around your skull in an all encompassing mix.

“Doffy,” you gasp, “Doffy, I love you–!”

A burst of warmth floods inside you. “Ngh–fuck!” he curses, stilling as his own climax overtakes him. He rests his chin atop your head, breathing heavily. “Cariño,” he groans. “Mi cariño. Te quiero, ángel. Te quiero demasiado. Tienes todo mi corazón.”

You hug him tight, drink in the tenderness of his words, the comfort of his scent. You hold all that he is in your arms and it is perfect. “I know, Doffy.” You kiss the teeth marks you left on his throat. “You have mine too. I’m all yours.”

You both stay like that for a little while, each recovering from your respective highs, holding one the other for as long as they need. 

When your mixed juices begin to overflow and dribble out of you Doffy shifts, slowly pulling out of you. You come apart with a squelch so lewd that you can’t help but flush. It’s then that you remember that you are exposed in every sense of the word; the beach is thankfully empty thanks to the Birdcage, but still. The open air has you feeling self-conscious, and you hastily pull your underwear back into place. 

Already, his sunglasses are back in place. “No one saw,” he assures, picking up on your nerves. “I would have killed any voyeur that dared to try.”

“I know,” you say, giving your surroundings a hasty look. “Just need to make sure, I guess. I think I might actually die if anyone but you saw me like that!”

“Well, we can’t have that,” he chides. “We have a wedding to attend, remember?”

The petaled thing in your chest blooms once more. “However could I forget?” you swoon, cozying up to his chest. Tucked safely beneath your ear, his heart carries on its familiar music. "When were we thinking? Tomorrow morning?”

“Mm, we wed in the morning last time. I had an evening ceremony in mind.”

You perk up. It paints a pretty picture, making your vows on the bony white sand, starlight dappling the ocean waves. “Could we have it right here, by the shore?” “I don’t see why not,” he shrugs. Then the mischief returns to his voice. “it’s fitting, seeing that we’ve already consummated the marriage here. Perhaps we should commit fully and wear the same clothes?”

You flush, mortified at the thought. “God, no!”

He nudges you teasingly. “Oh come on. It’s not like anyone would know.”

“I would. I would know. And even worse, you would know! And I know you, Doffy, I know exactly how you would act.”

“And how would I act?”

“Like yourself. So, you know. A bastard.”

He grins. “Would you have me any other way?”

You smile, soft. “No, never.”

“Good,” he chuckles, giving your thigh an affectionate pat. Then, after a pause, “I think I’ll wear my black suit. The one with the white overcoat.” 

You trace the rim of his bracelet. “This too?”

“You really do like that piece, don’t you?”

“It draws attention to your hands,” you say dreamily. “And you know how much I love your hands.”

“That I do,” he smirks. As if to prove this point, he holds the one not stroking your thigh up to you. You take it between both of yours and pepper little kisses along his fingertips and knuckles. 

“If this is the kind of treatment it’ll earn me, I’ll wear this everyday,” he chuckles.

“You should,” you hum, pressing your lips to his wrist. “If you do, I will give you ten million kisses every day for ever and ever.”

“When you put it that way, I’d be a fool not to.”

You laugh deviously, rubbing your cheek against his palm like a cat. “All according to plan. Now you have to wear it to the wedding and for the rest of your life!”

“How evil you are,” he snickers. “It appears I’ve finally started to rub off on you.”

“It was inevitable,” you nod solemnly. “All I need is a pink-feathered coat and a Warlord title.”

“Speaking of; I think you should wear your pink dress for the ceremony. Pearls, too.”

“Off the shoulder or lace sleeves?”

“Lace.” He toys with your dress skirt. “I’d appreciate some lace underneath the dress as well.”

“That can be arranged…” You shift to look up at him. “Serious question; do you think we could get Señor Bigotes to officiate?”

Doffy raises an eyebrow. “Darling. I would pull the moon and all its stars from the sky if you asked me to. I think I can manage to wrangle one cat.”

His earnesty makes your breath stutter. You know if you look at him any longer you’ll get too mushy and start crying again, so you snuggle back up to the crook of his neck. Doffy knows when you’ve had enough so lets you retreat. The crashing of the waves is more than enough to fill the silence. The seagulls chime in occasionally, which makes you chuckle.

“We’re getting married,” you sing, after you’ve settled.

He kisses your head. “We are,” he says, in that honey-suckle sweet voice just for you. “We should also get you cleaned up.”

You groan. “But I’m comfortable.”

“And you will continue to be comfortable,” he assures, hooking his arm under your knees. “I’ll carry you.”

You circle your arms around his neck as the world lurches upward. It used to make you nervous, being so far from the ground, but your husband is as strong as he is tall–if not even moreso. He won’t drop you.

“What are we thinking of for the cake?” he asks as he starts toward the ship. “Last time we did a marble so that one is out.”

“Hmm, red velvet?”

“We had that on our fourth.”

“Chocolate?”

“Did that on our first.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thoughtful. “Vanilla?”

He hums. “Vanilla…simple, but elegant. Vanilla it is.”

You kiss his chest. “We’re getting married,” kiss, “on the beach,” kiss, “with a cat–an office holding cat!–to officiate,” kiss, “and a vanilla wedding cake.”

“Sounds heavenly.”

The beat of his heart thrums steadily by your ear. “Yes. It sounds perfect.”

additional AN: title is from the poem 'devotion' by ocean vuong--you can read it here on poetry foundation !

TL for the spanish portion: "Darling. My darling. I love you, angel. I love you so much. You have all of my heart."

aMO ESTA DINÁMICA

Robin and King can be like, shared trauma buddies, then go on archaeological/historical adventures around the world together :)

Princess

Kakuzu x Reader x Hidan

For @itzcleetus

4k

Threesome, stripper!reader, blow-jobs, choking, rough sex, facials, face-fucking, squirting, creampie, oral, dirty talk, aftercare, praise kink, degradation kink.

"Hey, Princess!"

You finished strapping on your heels before lifting your head to see who was calling your name, "What's up?" you stood up, checking yourself in the mirror and making sure the fishnet tights you wore didn't get bunched up with the bodysuit and end up tearing mid-dance. Wardrobe malfunctions in the middle of a routine were incredibly annoying.

"Your boy toy is here, brought a friend too", the dreamy look in her eye made you snort, "When I say; tall, dark and handsome- I mean literally!" She fanned herself with her hand dramatically, making you laugh loudly, turning the heads of some of the other girls in the dressing room.

"Okay, relax", you rolled your eyes playfully, your laughter dying into gentle chuckles, "If he's not all that- I'm holding you personally responsible". You wanted to believe your friend, but you couldn't trust her judgement when it came to men. Diamond had an odd taste in men; case in point, her old boyfriend who considered a matching tracksuit as "formal wear" and a trip to the barbers as a foreign concept. So, when she came tittering into the room, babbling about a tall, sexy man, it was easier to let her fawn and make your own observations later.

You fluffed your hair, applied a small layer of lip gloss, then strutted out of the dressing room with your friend Diamond in tow. "I'm serious!'' She said close to your ear, the loud music making it difficult to hear each other, "He has this 'touch me, and I'll kill you' vibe that's just-" she sighed blissfully with a small smile.

You scoffed, giving her a quizzical expression with squinted eyes and pursed lips, "And that's...hot?" you asked hesitantly, already concerned with the answer she would inevitably give you. Instead, you just shook your head, "Forget it, don't answer that", you ignored her stutters of an explanation of her odd attractions, "I'll see you during our break, okay?" she rolled her eyes but kept the smile and locked pinkies with you, "Empty their pockets".

"Always!"

The two of you went to separate polls and started a flawless dance routine. The money rained around you when you dropped to a split, hearing your loudest cheerleader whoop and holler from his seat by the stage, making you grin wide and perform extra tricks to hear his laughter.

You gripped the pole tightly as you spun slowly, then swayed your hips while dropping down into a squat with your legs wide open for the men in front of you. Hidan grinned, throwing more money between your legs, "Hey, princess", you took his hand and allowed him to help you step down from the stage- into his awaiting lap.

"Hi, cutie", you pressed butterfly kisses on his jaw while rolling your hips against him to the beat of the music. Hidan's smile stretched, his large palms running over your thighs covered by your fishnets, "The usual?" you whispered in his ear, then nipped at it softly so you could hear his delicious groan.

"Nah, a little extra, Princess", Hidan gestured over to the glooming hunk sitting on the chair beside him, "I brought a friend, figured you could cure his grumpy mood", he teased while slipping a wad of cash tied with a rubber band into your bra.

Hidan was the only man you did this with; this, as in, sleeping with a customer. The first time it happened, you decided to call it a lapse in judgement- overlooking the fact that you were completely sober. Hidan sauntered into the strip club, throwing money and taking dances from practically everyone. He was fun and sexy, so you decided to take him home for the night.

To your delight, Hidan turned out to be the best lay you've ever had. After an excellent night, you both parted ways- that was until you saw him again a week later- and the week after that. You told yourself there was nothing wrong with having a weekly fuck buddy- it just made you feel weird when Hidan would slip in some extra cash for your services.

You grasped the wrist that carried the money, "I told you, I don't fuck you for the money", it was meant to come out as firm, but it only made Hidan chuckle and press a kiss on your neck.

"I don't give you the money for that, Princess", his other hand started venturing up your thigh, "I want you to have nice things". His warm breath ghosted against your pulse; you gripped his shirt tightly, feeling the firm muscles on his arms tighten around you, "I like to spoil pretty princesses", Hidan murmured huskily, "Let me spoil you, okay?"

You nodded slowly; morals started slipping whenever he talked to you in that voice. All deep, dark and filled with lust. You discreetly accepted the extra cash, then stood up from his lap, "The back room is free for private dances", you winked at him, enjoying Hidan's cheeky grin and visible enthusiasm through his pants. You took his hand, then led him to the backroom, completely forgetting that he bought a friend until the three of you stood in the secluded, sound-proof room.

You stared up at the second man in the room- now you understood what Diamond meant. He was a hulking black man with long dreads and piercing green eyes that made you go weak in the knees. He looked older, no- his eyes looked older, but his arms, chest, muscular thighs clad in jeans- all screamed a strong physique. The man towered over you, the tattoos of stitches that ran across his mouth seemed to strain under his scowl.

He just seemed to radiate dark and ominous energy that had you both terrifying and turned on. Perhaps you were just as crazy as Diamond- or maybe that's just how he made every woman feel.

Hidan stood behind you as openly stared at the other man. His hands wandered around your waist and down your hips, "This is my friend, Kakuzu", he began to say with his lips pressed against your collarbone, "I told you about him, remember?" An odd tension disguised by the lust started to rise as Hidan continued to speak, "I told him about us- I told him I found a pretty princess for us to play with".

"Kakuzu..." you breathed out gently, testing his name by letting it roll off your tongue. He looked down at you with an expression that almost looked bored if you hadn't noticed the slight tensing of his jaw and the way his eyes followed Hidan's hands on your body. Your nerves began to ebb away the more Hidan's touch became bolder; his hands left a searing heat in their wake- awakening your pussy of the intimate feeling.

The air became hot and thick; a soft whine left your lips when Hidan pushed his bulge against your ass, "What do you say, Princess?" his mouth returned on your neck, "Think you can take us both?" Hidan began to unzip your bodysuit slowly as if he was waiting for you to back out, but oddly enough, you didn't want to.

You knew what Hidan had to offer- the little kitty inside you was curious to find out what Kakuzu was offering.

"Yes".

You could feel his grin on your skin, "Good girl", your bodysuit slipped off your body, leaving you in your underwear and fishnets. Hidan smacked your ass playfully, "Kakuzu is just gonna watch at first, okay?"

The man walked past both of them and sat down on the sofa opposite. The seats ran along the wall in an L shape with some footstools and plenty of plush pillows. There was a small music station and a mini-fridge with plenty of drinks with soft lighting and LED lights, but those remained off for now. The room is usually reserved for private parties. Kakuzu leaned back, draping his arm over the back and settling his gaze on the way Hidan touched your body.

You turned your head so you could capture Hidan's lips into a kiss, deciding on regaining some pride and control after gawking at the older man for what seemed like centuries. You reached back, grasping the back of his neck and using him like a pole to grind and sway against Hidan, giving Kakuzu a show of your moves.

"Take off her bra", Kakuzu's deep baritone startled you, almost as much as how quickly Hidan obeyed that command because now you stood topless with your breasts on full display. You whimpered into Hidan's mouth when his calloused palms started massaging your soft mounds, "Come closer".

Hidan nudged you forward with his hip, never breaking the kiss and keeping his hands kneading your tits, forcing sweet sighs out of your mouth. You both walked towards him until your knee bumped against Kakuzu's. Hidan pushed his thigh between your legs, using it to rub against your cunt already staining your panties. You ground your hips on his thigh, mewling softly from the friction upon your clothed clit.

"Bend her over".

Hidan let go of your mouth and made you fall forward by the waist, forcing your face to be inches from Kakuzu's. A deep full body blush burned you as you stared into the older man's eyes; you could see the dark convent of desire that stirred beneath his scowl. You wanted to be the one to break his mask, to have him untamed and wild.

"Go on, Princess", Hidan sank to his knees and ripped your fishnets, "Don't you want to touch him?" you could hear his grin, "He's sexy, right? I knew you'd like each other", he smacked your ass playfully before dragging your panties down, watching a thin, silvery string drip down with the fabric. A throaty groan rumbled from Hidan, "Fuck- you're so perfect, Princess", his large palms spread your cheeks, exposing more of your glistening cunt to his greedy sights.

You whined softly, ducking your head to escape the embarrassment of Kakuzu's intense eyes and wriggling from Hidan's groping and intrusive gaze, "H-Hidan-". You weren't a shy woman, but being at the mercy of two men like this was a little too much.

"Look at me", Kakuzu grunted, and when you didn't- he seized your chin, forcibly making you look up at him, "Is a stripper becoming shy?" Hidan barked out a laugh from behind you before delving face-first into your pussy- you jerked forward with your cry of surprise swallowed by Kakuzu's mouth.

Grunts, sighs and sounds of your cunt being devoured filled the room. You pushed back against Hidan's face while your hands started petting Kakuzu's broad shoulders and firm chest. He tasted spicy and faintly of cigarettes, but that didn't bother you. Kakuzu's other hand palmed your tits, rolling his fingers against the hardened bud and drinking your sounds of pleasure against his mouth.

"More", you whined upon his lips. You could feel Hidan's tongue stroking up and down your slippery folds before capturing your clit and suckling on it softly. Kakuzu pinched your nipple to gain back your attention.

"Hear that, little slut wants more", he grunted towards Hidan; the man smacked your ass in response. Kakuzu's grip on your chin tightened as he jerked your head to the side so he could place hard, open mouth kisses on your neck, "You're a greedy little thing, y'know that?" You set your hands on his knees for leverage, soft moans leaving your mouth as Hidan's fucked you deep. "Begging for more when you haven't even touched us yet", he chastised with heavy gruff and darkened eyes.

You tried to answer, but the heat that pulsated between your thighs and pooled in your belly was too intense to ignore. Heavy pants and sweet moans were the only sounds you could muster. Hidan's loud and enthusiastic slurping continued, causing your thighs to tremble as you fought to keep standing. Your eyes rolled back as the dam threatened to burst inside you and coat Hidan's face with your juices.

"I think you've spoiled this little princess too much already, Hidan", your eyes shot up to him, seeing a sinister look in Kakuzu’s eye that promised sweet agony and delicious punishments.

Your orgasm was so close, "N-no, please-"

Kakuzu grasped your throat, cutting off your pathetic sounds of protest in replace of desperate gulps of air. His rough actions only made you wetter, and he could tell from the way your lips parted in a silent moan, "Hidan, stop".

The power in his voice had you whining low in your throat, whereas Hidan huffed before parting away from your quivering pussy and standing back up, "I felt her tightening around my tongue- god", he groaned, unbuckling his belt, "You should have a taste too", Hidan grinned, wiping his face with his shirt before tugging it off, "Princess, you should taste Kakuzu-" his large palms rubbed your ass, "Her mouth feels just as good as her pussy".

Kakuzu released your throat, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger again.

You gasped, quickly regaining your breath. "I want to", you whispered, looking up at Kakuzu through your lashes and giving your best pleading pout. Your hands ventured up to his thighs slowly to reach the thick bulge that strained against his jeans, "I could taste you, now"- you felt his mouth curl up into a smirk against your neck, "Let me taste you, daddy", you pleaded sweetly, grasping the thickness that lay between his thighs.

"Hey! You said you didn't have a daddy kink", you looked over your shoulder to see Hidan scowling with his hand stroking up and down his shaft in idle strokes.

"Sorry, baby", you hadn't meant to say it- Kakuzu just had an intensity to him that felt different to Hidan, "You're still my favourite, though", if it weren't for him playing matchmaker, then this never would have happened.

Kakuzu chuckled, allowing you to unbutton his jeans, "You just don't have that vibe, man", you managed to pull his cock from his pants, licking your lips unconsciously and greedily drinking in the sheer size of him. Your smaller hands could barely wrap around the base of his shaft; Kakuzu had a girth that made your mouth water and pussy clench.

"Go on, princess", Hidan appeared beside you, looking down at you between Kakuzu's thighs with a wide grin, "Are you scared? Is it too big for you?" he taunted with a cruel smirk, "Show him what a good little slut you are". Hidan brushed your hair back from your face as both men watched you wrap your lips around the engorged cock head and give it gentle little sucks before widening your jaw and swallowing down his length.

Pathetic gags ripped from your throat, making them chuckle and humiliation flame your cheeks. You breathed through it, determination and pride fueling you to grip the base of Kakuzu's shaft with both hands- allowing the drool trickling down your chin to act as lube before bobbing your head up and down his length.

The deep groan that vibrated through his chest spurred you on. Hollowing your cheeks, you twisted your hand and stroked him through your suckles. You felt Hidan's cock poke your cheek impatiently, obviously dissatisfied from being left out. You slapped his hand away and replaced it with your own, stroking him hard and firm, the way he liked it.

"That's my little princess", Hidan groaned, thrusting his cock into your fist lightly, his gaze never leaving the way you drooled and slurped up on Kakuzu's fat cock. Where Kakuzu had girth, Hidan was slender and curved slightly at a perfect angle to hit your sweet spot every time. Your cunt ached in anticipation to have either man inside.

Kakuzu grunted loudly when your teeth unexpectedly grazed against his sensitive flesh- though it was a deep groan of pleasure rather than pain. You figured a man that was friends with Hidan had a pain kink too. His hands tangled in your hair, pushing your head a little deeper until your throat constricted around his head, "Hidan, face or pussy?" he gruffed, lust heavy in his tone.

Hidan's shallow ruts into your fist faltered as he considered the question, "Nah, the better question is-" his grin turned feral as he looked down at your tear-stained face, "Creampie or facials?"

Kakuzu groaned low in his throat when you moaned around his cock, "Fuck-" he panted, abdomen tense as he fought against his impending release. "You creampie, and I'll give this pretty princess a nice facial, hah", Kakuzu's grin seemingly stretched the tattoos of the stitches across his face- it made him look incredibly sexy and terrifying at the same time. He jerked into your mouth, "Would you like that?" he watched you nod weakly, mouth stuffed with his dick, "Want me to ruin that pretty face?"

You hummed around his dick in response, causing him to groan and chuckle at the same time. The noise went straight down to your clit, your pussy slick and clenching around nothing as you wriggled your hips. Kakuzu gathered your hair in a fat fist and signalled to Hidan to return to his position.

"I got you, baby", Hidan slipped out of your fist and walked back to your ass. He grasped your hips, grinding his dick against your slippery folds and moaning from the friction, "Gonna make you milk my cock dry". You pushed back against him, your tongue busy swirling around Kakuzu's length to speak. Hidan grunted, "Impatient, huh?" he chuckled before spreading your cheeks open and pushing his mushroom head against your tight entrance. Hidan panted softly, your pussy quivering from the intrusion.

You moaned, sighed and whimpered upon Kakuzu's cock until Hidan's length was nestled firmly into your cunt. Kakuzu wiped a tear from your face before looking up at his partner, "Ready?"

Hidan smacked your ass with a wide grin, "Fuck yes!" both men began rutting their dicks into your holes. Your body shook from the onslaught; Kakuzu held your hair in a tight grip as he fucked his fat cock into your throat, Hidan snapped his hips into you, his curved dick slamming into the spongey spot that had you seeing stars and crying into Kakuzu's lap. You slobbered and choked around the thick grith that stuffed your mouth.

"You should see her face", Kakuzu grunted, rutting his hips in a firm pace, "Pathetic and drooling". He grinned down at you, his eyes cruel and dense with a thick layer of lust that matched the potent stench of sex in the room.

Hidan groaned, his hips faltering when you squeezed around his cock, "Dirty little princess loves it when you say shit like that", he gripped your hips tightly, "I can feel your sloppy pussy squeezing me". Hidan went back to slamming into you mercilessly, grinning widely at the sounds of pleasure you babbled pitifully.

Kakuzu cradled your head, watching the muscles constricting around his length in rapture, "Is that so?" he whispered, "You like being ruined by two dicks, is that it?" the tears that clamped in your lashes rolled down your cheeks as he shoved his cock down your throat, "You're a slutty little girl, letting us fuck you like this".

You cried when Hidan slammed into you so hard, your orgasm washed over you abruptly, and Kakuzu's cock slipped deeper down your throat- making you gag and slobber all over him. Your thighs trembled, causing you to collapse, except Hidan wrapped a solid arm around your waist and lifted you from the floor. One hand gripped your waist while the other held you firmly as he continued to thrust into your sopping cunt. You held onto Kakuzu's thighs for leverage as the men used your body to chase their release.

"Princess, you made a mess on me", Hidan teased, his cock dragging along your fluttering walls and abdomen painted with your wetness, "Think you can do it again?"

Kakuzu huffed, "I'm sure she has another one in there for us", his grip on your hair tightened the more he pushed your head up and down his thick length.

Your body ached, throat burned and pussy throbbed as you accepted their harsh movements and cruel taunts. You squeezed your eyes tight, your vision blurring while you tried to keep up with Kakuzu's thrusts and keep yourself breathing enough not to completely choke on his cock. When you heard Hidan's curses become louder, you purposefully clenched your inner muscles around his length- it was always his sign that he was close to cumming.

"God- fuck!" he shouted. Hidan leaned over; his solid chest pressed firmly against your back as his hips spluttered and rammed hard into you, "Gonna stuff you full of my cum, baby", he groaned low in his throat, biting the tender skin of your neck as he fucked you hard and fast with his balls slapping against your puffy clit.

Kakuzu's pace picked up too, using your throat to chase his own release as he watched your pitiful face contort into pain and lust, "Cum on his dick, princess", you whimpered, shaking your head weakly while swallowing around his cock. You couldn't- it was all too much. Kakuzu grasped your throat with his other hand, groaning when he felt the way you clamped around his size, "You can, and you will- do it again", the demand rasped through his voice, "Be a good girl, and do what daddy says".

You whined loud- Hidan cursed, his orgasm tearing through him aggressively, three pumps of his hips, and he was emptying his cum into your sloppy cunt. Kakuzu chuckled, then groaned when you dragged your bottom teeth against the thick vein that ran along his length and lapped up at his slit at the same time. Kakuzu slipped your mouth off his cock, relishing in the way your tears, snot and drool spluttered as you coughed for air. He stroked himself to the lewd expression on your face, groaning low in his throat as his cum painted your pretty face.

Hidan rubbed frantic circles on your clit, his cock still buried deep inside you so he could feel the walls clamp around him as a clear liquid gushed from your pussy. Your lips parted in a silent scream, your orgasm ripping through your body and splashing Hidan with your juices. The dark carpet became stained with your essence.

"Wow!" Hidan laughed, his fingers never stopping, even when you squirmed and jerked away from his touch, "Didn't know you had that in you, princess".

Kakuzu wiped your tears, hypnotised by your lovely face coated with his thick ropes of cum. He watched you cry and whimper, biting your lip to stop the noises then moaning when you tasted the rich substance on your mouth. Your body slumped against them both- you had no strength left in you after that. Hidan picked you up then gently set you down on the sofa.

"Where are-"

You pointed to the box on top of the mini-fridge; it had tissues, wet wipes and condoms in there for any shenanigans.

Hidan brought the box over and crouched down beside you, wiping your face gently, "You did so well, baby".

Kakuzu took a wipe and gently rubbed your abused pussy, your folds coated with Hidan's cum as it dribbled out in thick gobs, "Such a good girl", he murmured while cleaning you up.

Their whispered praises and gentle ministrations lulled your soul into a calm state, peacefulness washing over you the way their hands did on your spent body.

Hidan must have cleaned himself up when you slipped into unconsciousness because now he sat with your head in his lap and hand stroking your hair, "You ready?"

"Mmm?" you murmured gently, lifting your head to see Kakuzu's intense gaze settled on you and his large palms caressing your thighs, "Ready for what?"

Kakuzu's eyes darkened in that way you became familiar with- the look that promised sweet agony, "For round two, princess".

accidentally drew this on too small of a canvas but oh well!!

BABY TRIO

I Can Handle It - Law 

Summary: you’re a Straw Hat with Law in Wano. Grumpy dom Law won’t let you on top, makes you regret it when you convince him to let you. 

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Afab!Reader

Genre: smut

CW: dirty talk, unprotected sex (whoops), daddy Law

Word Count: 1,934

———

“Traffy, please.” You caught his gold hoops between your teeth and tugged as he undid the belt around your waist and tossed it aside. 

“No.” Law tried to pull his ear out of your mouth as he pulled open your kimono, pleased to find nothing beneath it but your silken skin. In the dim moonlight shining through the window, he could only just make out the swell of your breasts and color of your nipples, the smooth skin of your stomach and the curve of your hips. 

Perfection, he thought, relieved that captain of yours wasn’t interested in keeping you all to his greedy self. 

“Traffy,” you whined again. You lay on the thin mattress on the floor with the War Lord hovering over you, his hat discarded by the door to the room, your limbs tangled with his more muscular ones the second everyone else went to bed. 

“I said, no.” He lifted a hand and batted your mouth away from his ear, though he missed the warmth as soon as he did. Luckily, you reattached your lips to his thick neck in a second, happily running your tongue over his muscles and tendons, marking up his smooth, tan skin. He was almost embarrassed by how quickly he had grown accustomed to fucking you each night, your lips attached to his neck every time, his mood sour if you skipped a night. 

“I don’t understand why you won’t let me on top.” You pushed on his heavy body, twice the size of yours. You were caged between his arms and legs, his tattooed chest blocking most of the moonlight filtering in through the window. You had tried flipping him over several times, had tried biting him and distracting him and doing all sorts of things to gain the advantage when you two were together, but every time, he just pinned you back beneath him and bottomed out inside you. And you were powerless when he did that, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he worked the tension out of both your bodies. 

“Because.” 

“Because why?” You tried shoving him off of you again, though only half-heartedly. The embarrassing truth was, you’d accept whatever Law gave you. 

Trying to ignore you, he grabbed one of your breasts and squeezed. He kneaded the soft flesh a few times before moving to the other one. It was exactly what he needed, your intimate parts exposed to him. He’d quickly become addicted to the way your body calmed his, the way you relieved his tension like a human stress ball.  

But just as he dipped his head low to trap your perky nipple between his lips, one of his favorite things to do to you, you shifted beneath him. 

“Law.” 

Law gave a heavy sigh. He dropped his head between your breasts, brows furrowed. “It’s been a long day, y/n-ah. Can’t we just-” 

“You never let me on top,” you interrupted. You bit his ear again, this time ignoring the gold hoops and clamping your teeth down directly onto his earlobe. 

“Ugh.” He batted you away again. “All you Straw Hats do is ride rough shod over me. I can’t possibly be expected to also roll over when I’m fucking you.” 

“It’s not like that,” you whined, going for his earlobe once more. “Please, Law, I really want to. I can handle it, I promise. And I won’t bother you for it again. Just this once, let-” 

“Fine.” He pulled off you and fell onto his back, letting out another heavy sigh as he resigned himself to your pleas. “You can ride me.” 

You pulled back from his ear and blinked in surprise. “Really?” 

Law grunted. His heart hammered in his chest, the erection between his legs throbbing painfully. He wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to get off seeing as though you’d been together just the night before, and every night before that for the past two weeks, but he felt as though he hadn’t orgasmed in months. 

“Hurry up already,” he snapped at you, wearing a grimace on his face. 

You didn’t need to be told twice. You climbed on top of him with an eager smile and sat down on his erection, gasping when you felt it push into you. Your eyes almost rolled into the back of your head from that alone, but you managed to stop them from doing so. Law already thought you couldn’t handle being on top, and you didn’t want to prove him right. 

You began kissing his neck while your fingers worked to undo his kimono. You took advantage of your increased access to his body, splaying your hands out over his chest when the garment came off and sliding them down his abdomen, feeling all of the defined muscles on his body. His skin was soft and warm, his tattoos mapping out endless paths for you to trace. 

“I said, hurry up.” 

“Grumpy,” you muttered, moving below his hips. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip at the sight of his cock, thick and hard, veiny with a slight curve in it. You wanted to press a few kisses into his heavy balls before wrapping your lips around the flushed tip of his cock, but you were as eager as Law to get off, so you raised yourself up and aligned the tip with your wet entrance, moaning as soon as his cock brushed against you. 

Bracing one hand on his muscular chest and using the other to guide his cock into you, you slowly sank down. You quivered around him, eyes wide from the stretch. You thought his cock might feel bigger with you on top, but you had never imagined it might feel this much bigger, almost too big to take. 

“You said you could handle it,” Law reminded you, not reaching up to play with your tits like you thought he would but instead putting his hands behind his head and watching you expectantly. It made your cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

“And I can.” 

Though it was almost too much, you began moving up and down, your tits bouncing as you rocked your hips against his. You couldn’t take that last inch, but you took enough of him you thought for sure he would be a panting mess like you were. But when you looked down at him, you saw he wore his poker face, looking up at you with a neutral expression. You gritted your teeth and went a little faster in an attempt to make him break, but to no avail. The Warlord just watched you with a slightly skeptical look in his eyes. 

“Rub your clit.” 

Your eyes widened. “What?” You paused to brush a strand of hair from your sweaty forehead. 

“I said, rub your clit.” He huffed. “You’re really not listening tonight.” 

“I am listening,” you snapped back, “but I’m a little busy right now. Do it yourself.” 

Law raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you could handle it.” 

“I can handle it!” You made a frustrated sound and began rocking your hips again, this time putting one of your hands between your legs. As soon as your finger touched your clit, your legs shook. You tried to recover quickly, but from the sound Law made- something like a chuckle- you knew he saw you almost collapse on top of him. Gritting your teeth, you continued rubbing your finger over your clit, trying your hardest to swallow your whines and whimpers. 

“This isn’t working,” Law told you, finally pulling his hands from behind his head and placing them on your hips. 

You shuddered at the feel of his warm, calloused palms against your bare skin, feeling the first trace of your orgasm, your body good and ready for you to cum. “It most definitely is.” 

Law pulled your hand away from your clit and trapped it in his. “You’re tiring yourself out too quickly. If I wanted a quickie, I would have pulled you aside while everyone else had dinner and fucked you then.” With those words, putting the scandalous idea into your head, he pushed you even closer to the edge. 

“Traffy.” 

“You know you’re not supposed to call me that,” he scolded, tightening his grip on you. He pulled his legs up so they were no longer straight in front of him, bracing himself with his feet. You felt his muscles coil, and you braced for him to flip you over. But he didn’t. Instead, he began fucked up into you. 

“Oh, fuck.” You keeled over pathetically, bottom lip quivering. 

“See,” Law said, thrusting into you again. “I knew you couldn’t handle it.” 

“Shut up.” 

“And now you’re getting bratty.” 

“I am not getting bratty.” 

“You are.” He continued thrusting into you at a slow but steady pace. “What do you call me, huh? What do you call me?” 

You opened your mouth, but the only thing that fell from your lips was a moan. 

His hand left your hip and came down on your ass with a loud smack. “Say it.” 

“Daddy.” Tears pricked at your eyes. “Daddy, please.” You managed to pick yourself up and look down at him, only in time for him to smack your ass again, this time much, much harder than he did before and set a merciless pace with his thrusts. 

A yelp loud enough to wake your nearby sleeping crews escaped your lips. You clamped your hand over your mouth. You braced the other on his chest, but it wasn’t enough to hold you up as Law pounded into you, and you ended up curled into his chest with your nails tearing into his tattoo. You whined and whimpered, the sounds just barely muffled by your hand.

“I guess I could let you on top more often,” Law grunted. “I didn’t realize you’d fold so easily. Like a rag doll.” He never talked dirty to you, barely even moaning when the two of you were together. The words were sharp and poignant, cutting right through you. 

You clenched around him. “Oh, daddy. Fuck.” You keeled over on top of him, pressing your forehead into his hard chest as your orgasm worked its way through your body, your limbs spasming and your cunt clenching harder around his cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You screwed your eyes shut as they rolled into the back of your head. Your fingers twitched against his chest. 

Law didn’t stop. He fucked you dumb, letting out his pent up frustration. He finally reached up and played with your tits like he’d been wanting to do the entire time you were on top of him, twisting your nipples perhaps a little too hard. He could see your bottom lip quivering, could tell you’d never cum so hard on his cock, but he just couldn’t stop, especially not when you kept chanting the same word over and over. 

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.” 

He held back his orgasm as long as he could, but it wasn’t too long before the rubber band in his belly snapped and he shot his load deep inside you, emptying his balls with a few uncharacteristically loud grunts. 

You collapsed on top of him, both of your heaving chests pressed together, a sheen of sweat on your skin. You could feel his cum seeping out of you, but you didn’t have it in yourself to care, not with your legs still so weak. 

“Might have to try that again,” Law admitted after a minute, wrapping his arms around you. 

You could only hum in agreement. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

the sillies

the finest man ever.

First love never dies 🥺

beneath the skin | sylus

— summary: “who was that?” he simply asks, trying to mask the tinge of bitterness in his tone. “talk to me,” he coaxes after you hesitate, gently pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “a ghost,” you say on a shaky whisper, as if admitting it aloud is taboo, like you’ll accidentally conjure him back into existence. — cw: reader is not mc, femme reader, assassin reader, jealousy, stream of consciousness, rekindled feelings, self-indulgent af, not proofread, i’m delusional and wanted to write something about someone trying to steal you away from sylus — wc: ~3k — now playing: bad dream - lexie liu

You’re used to the attention; it’s your job to garner it. So, the occasional stare doesn’t perturb you much. Usually. 

But this one—it feels different. Like the uncomfortable pressure of a needle painstakingly driven beneath your nail, and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. 

You try to dance it off. Swivel your hips, smile pretty, a bewitching laugh in your throat as you gyrate atop the bar counter at Lux. But even as you turn to face the crowd gathered at your feet, their hands tossed skyward, bodies sweaty beneath the red sweep of lights and heavy mist, it lingers. Strips you down to bone, leaving you raw and exposed. Vulnerable. Confused. 

You pivot to address your admirer. To get a good look at who or what makes your skin crawl. But what greets you robs the air from your lungs, and you err in your steps, nearly stumbling off the counter if not for the dancer beside you, steadying you with her fingers wrapped around your wrist.

You feel like you’ve seen a ghost. An echo from a past you worked your damndest to suppress. The warmth and color drain from your face. You’re ramrod stiff, mouth spilling open, eyes blooming wide. Your heart careens against your ribcage, seemingly stopping before restarting to thrum double time. 

He reminds you of a forest, eyes the color of wood watching you with unwavering intensity, undisturbed by the bodies swaying and brushing up against him. A sturdy oakwood tree untouched by deforestation and time. It’s perverse in a way, how he studies you, how his gaze softens the slightest bit. How he knows you even with the stretch of years keeping you apart like he’s peeling back the layers of your facade like an onion. 

His hair is feathery. Dark like coffee beans, brushing over sloped shoulders. It’s longer than you remember. Longer than the last time you’d seen him before he died. 

Dead. He’s dead. Been dead for years. 

But as if to drive your delusions home, that telltale beauty mark catches in the strobing light, perched atop full, red lips stretched taut—lips you still remember the texture of, the way they moved against yours, pouring unbidden feelings into the chasm of your chest. 

You forget what it means to breathe. Forget how to exist, the cacophony of the nightclub fading into obscurity around you. Muddled, and you’re stock-still, stricken by something untraceable. Grief? Fear? Rage? Maybe a combination. Whatever the feeling, it causes a prickling sensation to fill your head, and your heart plummets to your feet.

“—alright?”

It’s a faint call. A disordered sound, like your ears are trying to readjust after resurfacing from a pool. It breaks you from the spell he cast over you, alongside the firm press of fingers into your wrist, the tug, and you swivel your head to take in the wary look of your co-worker. 

“H-Huh?” you say when your voice returns. Swallow past the barbs in your throat, lick your lips. Blink rapidly, disoriented, as if snatched from a trance.

“I asked if you were alright?” 

Your lips crook with a shadow of a smile. You pat her hand on your wrist, tamping down the anxiety that swells like a tumultuous wave in your chest. 

“Fine,” you murmur to assuage her worries. She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press, letting you go after ensuring you won’t fall. 

You look back, expecting to see those eyes drilling into your soul. Expecting that heavy feeling in your stomach, expecting your breath to abandon you once more and the world to spin beneath your feet. But you’re remiss to see he’s gone, swallowed up by the crowd as if he was never there in the first place. 

With all the stress looming over your shoulders —the missions, the changes to your dynamic with your boss, the newest addition to your family—you’re sure you’re imagining things. Your mind’s playing tricks on you, trying to cope with the weight of your job. With the repressed trauma. The unreturned feelings. Seeking an out. A little reprieve. 

How the hell could a dead man come back to life? And why would he be here, of all places, haunting you like a specter with unresolved business? 

You really should stop drinking before you perform. 

—

It’s a typical Saturday night at Lux. 

Nothing seems amiss; no fights to break up, no opposition to snuff out. 

Sylus is safely tucked in his second-floor office, watching bodies sway behind the one-way, ceiling-to-floor window. 

It’s soundless inside—soundproof walls—save for his steady breathing and the typically erratic thud of his heartbeat. His hands are stuffed in his pockets, and he stands in a casual slouch, gaze uninterested. He almost wishes something would pop off. A breakup in the monotony, a reason to get his hands dirty. An excuse to flex his fingers, to ruffle the expensive pleat of his shirt. 

He catches sight of you in his periphery. The knock of your hips, how you drag your hands down the devastating curvature of your body. A smirk pulls at his lips. If nothing else, he can count on you to keep him entertained. His gorgeous distraction. His glittering, murderous doll poised to strike at the snap of his fingers.

He leans closer to the crisp glass, static prickling his face, and he’s entranced by that sultry smile. How you shine like a constellation, brighter than Lux’s other dancers, capturing the intrigue and envy of all those subjected to your performance. He falls prey to it, too. Then again, he’s always been a victim. Always been under your spell, even without the influence of your Evol. 

He doesn’t know when it started. The steady creep of feelings, the burning need to protect you. But it’s there, a pleasant, heavy pressure in his chest. A feeling he thought himself long dead to. 

He’s about to leave his office to draw you down from the counter, but—

His amusement peters when you turn and stiffen. When your hands fall listlessly at your sides, and even from this vantage point, he makes out your mouth falling open. He’s closer now, his nose nearly pressing into the glass. He squints, trying to glean what’s caught your attention. The muscles in his jaw flex and strain when he catches sight of a figure clad in white adjacent to you, stiff as stone.

Alarm bells sound in his head. He doesn’t like the way this man watches you. How his gaze lingers too long, and he can feel the tense set of your shoulders as if he’s filling your skin. Irritation thins his lips. He conquers the space between the window and the office’s door in three brisk strides, the swell of music from downstairs flooding inside.

He takes the staircase leading to the first floor two-by-two, urgency powering him forward. But by the time he reaches the floor—by the time he wends through the crowd, pushing towards you, searching above the bodies pressing against him for that haunting streak of white—the figure is gone. Vanished like a breath out as if he’d never been there. 

Sylus’ gaze snaps to you. He’s still a ways off; you hadn’t noticed him. He watches the dancer beside you try to calm you down. Watches as you anxiously sweep an errant lock of hair behind your ear—as you peer over your shoulder in search of something. How your expression dampens when you find nothing, and your shoulders slump.

Something’s got you spooked. 

Sylus stands in the midst of the dance floor for a bit longer, studying you as if you’ll disappear, too, if he looks away for too long. 

He doesn’t like this feeling—this unease curdling in his gut. 

Who and what was that? And why does he feel like it’s not the last of it?

—

It was supposed to be a typical exchange—a simple negotiation for a plot of land on the outskirts of the city. 

You weren’t entirely sure what Sylus intended to do with it, but you usually kept your questions to yourself. He’d fill you in on the intricacies of his plan as he saw fit. 

For now, you stand in good form behind him, hands clasped together in front of you. His secret weapon in case things get dicey. His right hand in case you’re needed.  

He sits in a red leather, pin-cushioned armchair, languidly sipping on his bourbon, his hair standing out beneath the lazy drag of the low light. You’d normally admire him from your vantage point—the line of his shoulders, that wispy sweep of hair, the virility he exudes without trying. But tonight, you’re tight-lipped and contemplative. Straight-backed as you wait for his guests, mind slinking back into the happenings of three nights ago.

You finally began to settle. Excused the specter you saw as a trick of the light, as a product of exhaustion and shitty eating. There was no way he could still be alive—the shadow from your past. And even if he were, he wouldn’t have waited so long to resurface. 

Would he?

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head, sweetie,” drawls Sylus above the languid croon of the music inhabiting the office. 

He breaks through the noise of your mind, and you blink as if being drawn from a daze.

There’s a teasing fringe to his voice. You don’t have to fully see him to know he’s smirking, that devastating, charming pull to his lips. He turns his head slightly over his shoulder, peering at you. “What’s on your mind?”

You clear your throat, shifting your weight between your feet. He’s caught you drifting off again. He’s good at that, reading your silence, feeling the tension stretching between your shoulders.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?” he says after some time in deliberating silence. 

You know he means to press. He wants to, but he doesn’t—a part of him you admire. He never pushes you past what you’re willing to give. Never pries into your past, never drills into your skull, trying to discern what makes you tick. He very well could, the power of his right eye glowing a sinister shade of red when he cracks into the minds of his enemies. But he’s never used his power on you, at least from what you’ve gleaned, and you respect him even more for being ever patient with you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie through your teeth. Lips quirk, though the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. 

His mouth hovers around words as if he means to protest. He knows you better than you think. But he doesn’t get the chance to pry when the door to his office swings open, drawing your shared attention to it. 

You watch as a stout man strides in behind Kieran, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looks unassuming. You roll your shoulders back, the tension once coiled in your limbs slowly unfurling. You don’t know what you were expecting. What you were hoping for, and you’re about to relax before another figure strolls in behind the gentleman. Unmistakable, tall, shouldered. 

Your breath catches.

The man’s eyes flick to you, briefly drinking you in. You don’t miss the glimmer of softness, the belying of emotions behind a rigid exterior. You watch him sit in the armchair adjacent to Sylus beside the older gent with glasses, and you can’t fucking breathe.

Yunho. 

His name echoes like an old hymnal—a forgotten praise—in your mind. Something tucked away in the furthest hulls of your subconscious, dredging up memories you’d long since compartmentalized.

Under different circumstances, you might’ve fainted. Instead, you tamp down the swell of fear in your chest. The lump of emotion blocking your throat. The heaviness of your tongue. He’s here—he’s real. He’s not dead, presented as flesh and bone before your very eyes, and you weren’t losing your shit that night at Lux when you saw him.

Your body hums with pressure, with static. You feel dizzy as if your legs could give way at any moment. You feel sick. Yet you maintain your poise, your decorum. You avert your eyes to the floor when Yunho’s gaze flits to you every so often as if he’s trying to convey something. Trying to make up for years of leaving you in the dark, for leaving you to fend for yourself, to pick up the jagged shards of your heart alone when you thought he was mere bone and dirt.

The meeting drags on with an unbearable tenseness. You feel like you’re out of your body throughout. You don’t follow what all three men are on about, too busy battling the static brewing between your eyes and your knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of Yunho’s gaze when he thinks no one’s the wiser.

—

He’s grateful when the negotiations conclude, Sylus is. He hates these things—the pleasantries that go into them, the small talk before he can take what he needs.

He shakes the stout man’s hand with a rehearsed pull to his lips, sealing the deal. The land will be signed over to him without incident. Good. He’s been itching to open a new club just for you. Knows you’ve been dying to have something of your own, a place with your name in scrolling Marquee outside.

He reaches over the glass-top coffee table to shake the hand of the younger man who had accompanied the landowner, and it’s like he’s been electrified when their palms meet. It’s a familiar, uncomfortable surge of static pushing up his arm, curling in his chest. 

Sylus stiffens, eyes shooting up. He locks on to irises that remind him of blackened tar pits. Soulless. Yet behind the aloofness lies a heated intensity that would burn through flesh if Sylus were anyone but himself. He’s thrown back to the memory of three nights ago at Lux when he’d caught the same feeling after chasing away whatever spooked you.

Sylus squeezes his hand a little more firmly than necessary, a slight divot forming between his brows. The gentleman’s stare is equally unrelenting, and it’s like he knows something. He doesn’t miss how his gaze flicks over Sylus’ shoulder to briefly take you in before he releases his hand, and both men depart, leaving you and Sylus buried in heavy stillness. 

He’d been doing that quite a bit, that man. Sneaking little glances at you, sometimes lingering while Sylus was deep in conversation. He didn’t like it one bit, the way his gaze felt like it was stripping through your clothes. But he said nothing—you were a far cry from unsightly. It was only natural that other men couldn’t keep their eyes off you, couldn’t contain their intrigue. But this felt…different. 

He rolls the stiffness from his jaw as he stands up straight, hands stuffed in his pockets, still staring at the afterimage of his two guests long after they departed.

The strain in your body was palpable, too. He felt it rolling off you in waves, crashing into his back. Didn’t miss how you shifted your weight between your feet, the rustle of fabric behind him, an occasional tight breath slipping through your lips as unease fell onto your person. 

It’s unlike you to be so out of sorts. So on edge. So he breaks the quiet lull between you by clearing his throat and swiftly turning to face you, a question perched on his tongue. He nears you with measured strides. Paces towards you almost like a predator cornering prey, and the way you glance down to avoid the smolder of his gaze makes something pull in his chest.

“Who was that?” he simply asks, trying to mask the tinge of bitterness in his tone. His expression slackens when you look away, your jaw moving, and you’re squeezing your fingers at your back, so much the tips turn white.

You push out a weighted sigh, your voice shaky and sticky, as if you might cry. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, but you fall silent, unease etching into your features.

He’s close now. So close, your perfume curls around him, the welcomed heat from your smaller frame permeating his skin. He wars with himself for a moment. Turns over his subsequent actions in his mind like an old vinyl before softly pinching your chin between his forefinger and thumb. He tilts your head back until you’re forced to look at him from beneath those ruinous lashes, and the wet gleam of your eyes is enough to make his stomach flip. Make the tendons in his neck pull.

“Talk to me,” he coaxes. Gentle like he’s persuading a lover to reveal the inner mechanisms of their mind to him. He knows you’re not okay. Wants to get to the bottom of your flightiness. Wants to help in any way he can. He’s not used to seeing you so stone-faced and avoidant. 

You relinquish a breath, lips quivering. You search his eyes, and he wants nothing more than to draw you into the circle of his arms. To cover you like a blanket on a winter's day, to absorb you. 

“A ghost,” you say on a shaky whisper. As if saying it is taboo, like it’ll conjure him back into existence. 

Sylus’ brows furrow. He prides himself on not delving into your past life. But, dammit it all, he’s never burned to know about what molded you into the person you are today more.

His gaze falls to your lips as they wobble. He wants to kiss them. Wants to take whatever anguish plagues you into his own body. Wants to kiss away whatever worries you have into oblivion. But he’s not sure how you would feel about that. If you’d push him away and completely shut him off from your heart. He’s made his intentions clear, his feelings for you—at least, he thinks he has. He’s been patient, waiting for you to come around. Waiting for you to want him as much as he yearns for you.

You draw him from the slurry of his thoughts when your fingers suddenly curve around his wrist. Soft, cautious, scorching through layers of flesh. A tired smile rounds your lips. You pull his hand away from your face, glancing down.

“I’m alright. It’s nothing to worry about. I—just need to get a little rest. Clear my head. Don’t worry about me.”

You brush past him without another word, and his fingers are poised at your back when you leave as if to stop you. When the door clicks shut with your departure, his fingers curl inward towards his palm into a loose fist before falling listlessly at his side. 

“A ghost, huh?” he murmurs to no one in particular, the words heavy and acrid on his tongue. He doesn’t notice the smoky threads of his Evol leaking off him, spurred by the ire slowly building in his chest.

🎴#NCT