All Of Yourself - 1
Source for Pic
All Of Yourself 1
Word Count: 6277
Tags: Fem!Reader; Ruthless!Law; Obsessive!Cora; Intense!Doffy; Soft!Cora; Dark Themes; Modern Day World AU; Cora Lives; Law is damaged; Doflamingo is a walking red flag; Mafia Romance; Dark Romance Vibes; Dub Con; Degradation; Praise; NSFW; Oral Sex (reader performing); Penetrative Sex (P in V; P in M); Choking; Posessivness; Overstimulation; Multiple Orgasms; Filthy talk; Biting; Ownership; Physical Restrainment; Reverse Harem (no M/M, they only focus on you); Multiple Penetration; Orgasm Denial (just once); Why choose romance; Pierced!Law; Porn With Plot; Rough Sex; Still Unsure About Good or Bad Ending; Voyeurism; Future Tags Will/May include: Somnophilia; Breath Play; Spanking; Dom!Law; Dom!Doflamingo; Anal Play; Edging; Jealousy; Stockholm Syndrome; Free use of sexual toys; Violence; Torture; Blood; Gore;
Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.
Summary: You're on the run. The Donquixote Family is your only chance of protection, but that comes with a cost: you. All of you. Law demands control. Doflamingo claims ownership. Cora offers love. Trapped between their wants and your needs, where do you draw the line between captivity and surrender?
Notes: Ah, gosh, don't you all just love it when a splash of inspiration hits you in the face? I know I do... so after waking up to that fun musing about a modern day world, dark romance vibes, mafia AU, I wrote this... And I planned more for it. As I stated in another post, I don't have the bandwidth to fully focus on this story at the moment, since I want to dedicate myself to Kid's Story and to some personal projects, but this first chapter acts well as a one-shot for now. I'm planning to keep writing whenever I want a break from other fics, or am in a dark mood! I'm exploring themes that I'm not that used to writing, so this is very self-indulgent, bear with me.
Note 2: 'K, so in reverse harems, M/M is usually also explored. I won't do it in this story mainly because I don't vibe with CoraLaw, DoffyLaw, or CoraDoffy. Not shipshaming anyone! To each their own. I'm just explaining why it won't be happening here.
Masterlist
Divider by @cafekitsune
You had exactly two options: run away or die.
It should’ve been a no-brainer; anyone would choose to run instead of dying, but you knew better. If you ran, you’d have to run to them. And they were far more ruthless than the dangerous people who wanted to kill you.
But if you stayed… well, death wouldn’t come swiftly or mercifully. It would come in slow bursts of pain and prolonged torture. So, no matter how frightening the prospect of running to them might’ve been, that’s where you went.
-*-
“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Donquixote Doflamingo’s voice reached you first. Your eyes were glued to the floor, not in reverence, but out of respect. You knew enough about this mafia lord to understand that he delighted in power, in being perceived as the most dangerous man in the city. So you’d give him exactly that.
You had waited in the relentless rain outside one of his clubs, demanding to be taken to him. Certain that the six hours he made you wait were meant to test your resolve, you were more than willing to prove you were worthy of his attention. Of his protection.
“I require refuge. A safe place to stay.” You hated how your voice trembled and shook, how your shoulders twitched, and how your eyes prickled. You’d have liked to say you weren’t afraid, but that would’ve been a blatant lie.
“Look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes, princesa.” You had heard of him. The powerful older Donquixote, the ruthless brother. The leader everyone feared. Unhinged, deranged, unrestrained… you’d heard whispers that he was handsome in his insanity, but you had never considered them true. Until you were face to face with the devil himself.
Doflamingo lounged in his leather chair. A mock throne set above a small dais in an opulent, though rather empty, room. His leg dangled by the side of the chair, swinging absently, the red of his three-piece suit mirrored the crimson of his tinted lenses. The way his chin rested against the knuckles of his veiny hand sent a shiver down your spine: a god in his throne, considering whether he wished to bless or smite.
“Ah, preciosa. Isn’t she, Corazon?”
A tall figure, standing at his right, emerged from the shadows. Blond bangs covered his own crimson eyes, a saddened look in them. A half-smoked cigarette dangled from his thin lips, an addiction, certainly to blame for the charred feathers of his black coat. He wore tailored beige pants and a white dress shirt. He was the younger Donquixote: the kind one.
A hum was his response, a political, nonchalant one, but his eyes devoured your form, taking in your filthy bare feet, your dishevelled hair, and your crumpled, rain-soaked clothes. Assessing. Observing. Preying.
“You’re running from what, exactly?” Cora tilted his head to the left. “Or from whom?”
Your wet fingers slipped against the cold marble floor as you used them to steady yourself. You weren’t quite on your knees, but still in a kneeling position, and your legs were starting to cramp. But there was no way you’d show weakness to someone like the Donquixotes.
“I cannot say,” you whispered, avoiding their gaze. You knew you couldn’t share this information, and perhaps, this would be what would eventually condemn you.
“We can find out, you know? There are ways…” This voice was colder, controlled, laced with precision. Trafalgar Law. You’d heard of him, too, and of the things he did to make enemies talk: The Surgeon of Death. He must’ve been hiding in the shadows. A shiver ran its course from your nape to your tailbone, one that had nothing to do with the cold and damp soaking your clothes. You felt him before you saw him, a presence as sharp as a knife; a scent of disinfectant and warm pine. Inviting. Dangerous.
He stood tall, though not as tall as the brothers, his dark hair and golden eyes contrasted with theirs. He was dressed all in black: black suit, black shirt, black tie, black soul.
“I can pull nerves from your body as if they were strings. Hang you up by them, watch you slowly bleed without ever truly succumbing to death. You’d talk then. I’m sure.”
“I can’t,” you pleaded. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
Doflamingo straightened in his chair, watching you over the rim of his glasses. His grin spread wildly, maniacally.
“Anything?”
You nodded then, locking your fate with theirs. You’d considered this on your way over. You knew they’d immediately take you up on this offer. The Donquixote Mafia liked to own, to possess, to control.
And you were about to become their newest toy.
“Let’s get you out of those damp clothes then, mi querida. We wouldn’t want you catching a cold. Cora, would you do the honors?”
Corazon flicked the butt of his cigarette to the pristine floor and crushed it. The leather of his shoes let out a squeak of protest as he rotated his foot to put it out. Then he shed his coat, letting it fall behind him in a crumpled, feathery mess. Clumsy fingers fumbled with the buttons of his dress shirt, but he managed to open them before reaching you.
You raised your head to stare at him and had to bite your cheek to stay silent. His pale skin was marred with old scars. You met his gaze then and found him smiling at you, a softness in his features you hadn’t expected.
He leaned down, holding your arms to steady your trembling form, and brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “We shouldn't do this, Doffy. She looks innocent enough.”
Innocent? How wrong he was.
Doffy didn’t answer, and Cora knew better than to repeat himself. “Can you remove your clothes for me, love?” The kindness in his voice almost broke you. You couldn’t have that. You needed to harden yourself to what was inevitably coming.
A nod. Then trembling fingers trying to undo buttons and zippers, to pull wet, heavy fabric over your head and off your legs.
“That’s it, lovely, you’re doing well. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” Somehow, you believed him. Even when you had no reason to. You focused your gaze on him when Doffy ordered you to remove your underwear, too. Perhaps you could tune out the other two, pretend they weren’t there. That it was just you and Cora.
The kind brother.
“Exquisite…” he uttered, a shuddered whisper that barely reached your ears. “I won’t harm you.” He promised again. Maybe more to himself than to you this time.
Cradling you in his arms, he took a deep breath and faced his brother as if he were about to wage war.
“I’ll take her away, draw her a bath. My suite—”
“No,” Doflamingo’s voice rang with finality. “Here, Cora. You’ll take her here. We want to see. She said she would do anything, so she will give all of herself to all of us.”
Your breath hitched, a rapid hiss escaping between clenched teeth as fear clawed its way up your throat and squeezed. All of them.
You ignored another shiver coursing through you, this one inching closer to your core, between your legs, and settling in your stomach. A shiver akin to excitement.
Corazon grunted, and his jaw clenched, ticking twice before he set you on your feet again. He left you for a moment to fetch his coat, and you felt exposed. Not just because you were naked, but because Doflamingo’s intense eyes could bare your soul to him. You felt as if he could read your secrets and your thoughts. Worse, you felt as if he could read your desires. And they, somehow, involved them at this moment.
Laying the black feathers at your feet, Corazon held you against his bare chest again. “Look at me, only me. Ignore them.”
You nodded, but it was easier said than done when the two men watching you were as intense as Doffy and Law.
“If you want me to stop, tell me.”
“Stop being a sap and just fuck her, Cora,” Law rasped. Your head whipped to the side, your thighs immediately clenching in response to his words. He was leaning against the wall behind you, an unreadable expression behind his golden eyes. But Cora didn’t allow you to linger on him.
“Eyes on me, love,” he gently commanded. The tips of his fingers tilted your jaw, turning your face towards him. “There we go.”
He laid you down on the coat reverently, as one lays down something precious enough to break. Then he removed his clothes, his crimson eyes never leaving yours. When he positioned himself between your legs, your breath came in sharp bursts, and tears were already pooling at the corners of your eyes.
This was always a possibility. When you considered running to them, you knew what it entailed. Belonging to the Donquixote Mafia was much more than being part of their family. Belonging to them meant giving yourself to them.
All of yourself.
To all of them.
Cora’s hands engulfed yours gently, his fingers pressing and prying your hand open, forcing you to relax under his care. “That’s it, love, relax. Very good, you’re doing so well.” He peppered each praise with a soft kiss: your temple, then your nose, your jaw, your neck, your shoulders.
Using his knee, he nudged your legs open, and when the cold air of Doflamingo’s sterile throne room hit your aching center, you shivered. The soft echo of footfalls told you Law was moving to a better position. Curious. You thought he wasn’t interested in taking what you had offered.
You felt the shaky warmth of Cora’s shuddered breath when his lips hovered over yours. And then, with gentleness, he kissed you. Something so soft and warm that, for a moment, it made you forget where you were.
Until you heard Doflamingo’s soft chuckle and the clinking of his rings against a glass, reminding you he was watching, observing, and assessing.
Cora pulled away, licking the seam between your lips. His hand brushed with soft strokes between your breasts, then over your stomach, and when it hovered over your entrance, you gasped.
“May I?” He was still asking for permission. And even though it was all a deception, the lie of you having any control over what was about to happen was too beautiful to pass up.
So you nodded, agreeing to what was about to happen as if you had any agency over it.
Soon, however, your thoughts of what was wrong or right about your situation disappeared from your mind, engulfed by the thick, seductive fog of lust and desire.
“You’re so wet for me already, love.” Cora’s whispered words were almost reverent. His fingers were nimble and long, and he used two to pump in and out of your cunt, curving them and hitting a spot that promptly turned your apprehension into want.
He added another finger and pressed his thumb against your throbbing clit. With his weight over you, shielding most of what was happening from the other two men, it was almost easy to forget your surroundings. To escape harsh reality and pretend you and Corazon were two lovers giving in to their urges.
“That’s it, you’re taking my fingers so well,” Cora cooed, when you arched your back, grinding your hips against his hand, seeking more, begging for more. “Almost there, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” a muffled whisper tumbled out of your lips as you pressed a hand against your mouth to stop more noises or prayers from stumbling out, unwanted.
“I want to hear her moans,” Doflamingo demanded, and the spell shattered. You and Cora were not alone. You and Cora were not lovers. This was just a game. And you were being used.
All of yourself to all of them.
“Stay with me,” Cora coaxed, but the pleasure slipped somewhere between his fingers and Doffy’s voice.
“I can’t…” You whimpered, a single tear finally finding a way out, even when you were trying your hardest to hold it in.
“You can,” Cora assured. Withdrawing his fingers from your heat, he splayed his hand open over your stomach, pressing the tip of his weeping cock against your nub.
You hissed, looking down with a sob. “I can’t!” Too big. It won’t fit. I’m scared. Those were words you wanted to say, but they would make you sound so pathetic that instead, you kept them all to yourself.
“I've got you. Scream my name when you come, love. It’s Rosi.” He pushed his hips forward with a gentleness you should already expect from this kind giant. He didn’t bottom out, he didn’t shove himself hard or expect you to just take him. He pushed slowly, letting you adjust to his size, cooing in your ear, letting you know how precious you were and how well you were doing, kissing away your tears.
Your hand flew over your mouth again, meaning to trap a traitorous moan from spilling out of your lips. But Cora gripped your wrist, placing the back of your hand against the warmth of his feathery coat. In a mimicry of his earlier gesture, he released the tension from your fist with his fingers and intertwined them with yours.
You locked eyes with him, then, watching as he soaked you in with nothing but tenderness. Beads of sweat were already dampening his forehead from the effort he was making to hold himself back.
He pulled his hips back and pushed again, softly, gently. You could feel every ridge of his cock dragging slowly against your walls, sucking him in, welcoming him in. You gasped again. Not exactly a moan, but not a whimper. The sting of his size melted away with each small stroke.
“More…” you begged, and your voice sounded foreign. It was easy to slip back into a dreamlike state. You and Corazon were alone, there was nobody else. You were lovers. Nothing else. You were not a runner trading yourself over for refuge. You weren’t terrified.
Corazon nodded, a throaty noise rumbling his chest as he pulled out. He locked eyes with you again, and this time, there was a small hint of madness mixing with the softness you’d already seen there.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, no matter how beautifully wrapped it may be.
When he snapped his hips forward this time, there was no hint of restraint. He sheathed himself to the base with one swift stroke, and you cried out. No muffled whimper, no small gasp. A cry and a wanton moan, loud enough to reverberate as an echo around the almost empty room.
Law grunted, moving again to another side to get a better view. Doffy laughed.
Cora leaned down, lips murmuring against your ear. Hushed words in a language you didn’t understand; a rapid litany of melodic sounds, urging you on, coaxing more cries and whimpers from you, and expertly succeeding.
His hand pressed against your lower stomach as he let go of your fingers, using the other hand to lift your hips into a better angle. He reached deeper, harder, faster.
“My name, love, my name,” he urged, teeth nipping your skin, fingernails digging indents everywhere he touched.
A surge of heat made your vision go blank. You clenched around his cock, arched your back, and clawed at his coat, fisting feathers as you moaned and cried out ‘Rosi,’ exactly like he requested you to.
You were still coming down from your high, black dots clouding your vision, chest heaving while you gulped for air, when you felt him close to you.
“My fucking turn,” Law’s voice was hoarser than before, unrestrained and untamed.
Cora groaned, and you felt him lift your body against his, using his hands to wrap your legs around him and pulling you closer as he kept thrusting. “I’m not done!”
“Do I look like I care, Cora? Turn her around!” Law growled, his own madness revealing itself in the urgency of his movements as he fought to unbuckle his belt and open his shirt.
Cora whimpered something about being close to finishing, but lifted you onto his lap. You mourned the loss of his fullness with a whimper of your own, but then he turned your back to his chest, placing your legs over his thighs and opening you up so he could bury his cock inside you again.
“Rosi…” you moaned lustfully, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer, claiming you.
“Open your mouth,” Law commanded.
You opened your eyes first, and even though they were half-lidded, you were still taken aback by the beauty of this dangerous man. He had tattoos. So many of them. Dark, obviously, intricate, covering his chest and his hands. Did he have more on his body? You couldn’t tell; he’d only opened his shirt and lowered his pants.
“Are you going to be a good little slut and open that mouth for me, or do I have to clamp your nose until you’re gasping for air?” Law leaned down, golden eyes flickering with excitement and desire.
There was no kindness in them. Not like Cora’s.
Cora thrust once and squeezed you tighter against him, his mouth wafting warm breath in your ear. “Do as he says, love, or he'll get rough.”
So you did. Locking your gaze with his, with as much defiance as you could while being fucked into bliss again by Cora, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, welcoming him in.
All of yourself, to all of them.
“Much better.” Law’s praise was more venomous than sweet, but you expected nothing less from him. Taking his cock out of his boxers, he palmed it and stroked it once. Your eyes widened: piercings, so many of them. They looked like little barbells, forming a sort of ladder along the underside of his cock. You flinched, angling your body closer to Cora, suddenly too overwhelmed, but Law’s grin only grew more dangerous.
“Don’t tell me our whore is afraid of some hardware?”
With a dark chuckle, he took a step forward, gripping your lower jaw with his hand and slamming his cock against your tongue. He was smaller than Cora, but thick and veiny. Still long enough for you to realise you wouldn't be able to take all of him into your mouth.
“Lick it, slut.”
You let out a low groan, and Cora, sensing your apprehension towards Law, placed the tips of his index and middle fingers against your clit, circling it with soft presses as he kept his slow, steady thrusts. He was quickly building you up to another orgasm. You felt the heat already pooling inside your belly, spreading like wildfire down your center.
With drool already dripping from the corners of your mouth, you used one hand to grip the base of Law's cock before you started to lick around it. Leaning your head and moaning as Cora's touch started to burn hotter and hotter, you panted onto Law's cock and licked the underside of it with a long swipe of your tongue, relishing the way the metal felt against the muscle and taking your time to lick around each piercing.
Law grunted and took another step closer to you. Then, without any warning, he gripped the back of your head, fingers punishingly threading and pulling through strands of hair. Then he started to fuck your mouth mercilessly.
“Fuck, such a good little slut for me, taking all my cock into your greedy little mouth. Take it all,” Law rasped through gritted teeth, pistoning his hips back and forth into your open mouth. You tried your hardest to shield your teeth from his piercings, certain he’d punish you if you hurt him.
You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only feel.
And when the orgasm Cora built up slammed into you unannounced, you moaned around Law’s cock, fingers clawing at his legs as he slammed the back of your throat so hard you knew you’d be sore in the morning. Drool dripped down your chin, mingling with tears you couldn’t stop. Your vision blanked, and floating black dots were all you could focus on.
Your chest hurt as you gagged and sobbed against Law’s unforgiving thrusts. You needed air. Desperately.
“We’re almost there, love. You got this. Such a good girl for us, my love, taking us so well,” Cora murmured rapidly, his thrusts spasming hard and sloppy.
“You’re going to swallow every little drop of cum I give you, like a good little cumslut. Got it?” Law tightened his grip on your hair, and you moaned again as he pulled slightly away from your throat so you could take in a few desperate gulps of air.
Cora’s grip on your waist tightened. Law pushed himself further inside you, and another wave of bliss started to crest on top of the last one. You were starting to feel guilty and ashamed because of how much you were enjoying this. How much you wanted their cocks inside you; how much you wanted to be coated in their cum.
But then, there was no more room for unwanted thoughts or feelings.
Cora came first. Heaving and shuddering against your back, his arm gripping your waist so tight he might’ve stolen all the air from your body had Law not done that already. With three final jerks, he spilled his seed inside you, forcing another orgasm from your spent body.
You convulsed and whimpered against Law’s cock when he shoved it harshly into the back of your throat, gripping your head with both hands as his release dripped down and you swallowed every drop, just like he told you.
When Law retreated, you gulped oxygen in long breaths, your head lolling back against Cora’s chest, where he cradled you sweetly, still buried inside you.
“You’re so perfect. So beautiful, look at you.”
You couldn’t. But you could imagine. Cum dripping down your thighs, yours and Cora’s, hair more dishevelled than it already was when you arrived, eyes red and tears soaking your face, where cum and drool were starting to crest.
“Exquisite, indeed,” Doflamingo uttered from his throne, and you opened your eyes to see him. Law was buttoning his pants and retreating back to the shadows, one hand tousling his dark hair while he let out a string of curses. But Doflamingo was still in the same position you found him in when you arrived.
He sipped the rest of his red wine and set the glass down at a small table next to the chair. Then he rose, unbuttoning his jacket and shedding it. The calculating steps he took towards you felt like nails being hammered into your coffin.
Cora pulled out, finally, and you let out a small whimper, but he didn’t let go of your body. You were utterly spent and emotionally exhausted.
“What are you hiding from us, cariño? You’re the keeper of whose secret?” Doflamingo crouched near you, tilting his head to the side, elbows resting against his parted knees. “Are you here to betray me?”
The air became colder. You felt Cora stiffen under you and heard Law shuffling again in the shadows. But Doflamingo watched you with nothing but a grin. The smell of his woodsy cologne and a hint of spices clung to your nostrils, invading your brain, and taking over what remained of your senses.
“Because if you are, I will find out. And I won’t be as kind as my brother here. I will bare all your secrets, mi pequeña, and you won’t like it.”
You weren’t here to betray him or take his secrets. You were just here to survive. Nothing more, nothing less.
“I have nothing to hide, except who I’m running from.” Your voice sounded small and apologetic. You had nothing more to give.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Doflamingo rose. His eyes never left yours while he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his muscled forearms. “Leave us,” he said to the room.
Cora stiffened again under you. “Doffy, you can’t—”
“I’m not going to repeat myself, little brother.”
Law was the first to open the door and step outside while Cora fought against his instincts to stay and protect you. With a final warning look from his brother, he kissed your temple and got up, dressing his pants and leaving without another word.
When the door clicked shut, the sound reverberated ominously against the walls. Doflamingo circled you like a predator circling prey, but you didn’t flinch. Wiping the combination of fluids from your mouth with the back of your hand, you tried to cover your naked self next, feeling, once again, bare under the intimidating man’s scrutiny.
He sat in his throne once more, crossing his legs and staring at you. Time ticked on slowly as he observed you. Was this his way of trying to break you? Or was he reading you in another way?
“Crawl to me,” he demanded.
You felt heat creep up your neck and flush your cheeks. Cora had been kind, Law had been ruthless. What could Doflamingo do to you that would be any different? It didn’t matter. This was the price to pay for safety and protection.
All of yourself. To all of them.
So you shifted your body until your knees were against the marbled floor, hissing at the cold but mostly at the soreness of your body. Locking eyes with the most menacing man in this city, you started to crawl towards him.
His grin grew as he leaned back in his chair, hands propped on his thighs, the fabric of the perfectly tailored suit straining at the crotch where he held an erection.
“Come to me, cariño.”
And you did.
You reached his feet and knelt down without him telling you to. You were showing him obedience, reverence, and respect. You needed him, and he still hadn’t granted you safety. Not yet.
“Perfect, indeed,” he cooed softly. His tone was deceiving because there was nothing soft about Donquixote Doflamingo. He was ruthlessness, disguised as beauty. “You’re running from someone, then?”
Shit. You’d let that slip while still riding the bliss of your orgasms. Something or someone, Cora had asked earlier, and you had avoided an answer. Not anymore.
“Yes,” You looked at him through your lashes, and he purred.
“Are you scared?”
“Of you?” you countered, tilting your head.
“Oh, no, querida. I know you're scared of me. But are you scared of the people, or the person you are running from?”
A shiver made you tremble as your breath hitched with his affirmation. Yes, you were utterly terrified. No words were necessary for him to understand that.
“Show me that I can trust you, and I’ll ruin anyone who tries to touch you.”
These were promises of safety and protection. No. They were much more. These were words of devotion and worship. But was Donquixote Doflamingo capable of such a thing?
For you?
He got up, unbuckled his pants, and freed his massive cock. He was even larger than Cora, not by much, though, but thicker. When he sat down, he extended one hand for you to take.
“Come here,” he coaxed.
You rose on wobbly legs, taking his large hand and facing him. For a few seconds, you were lost in how your hand was engulfed by his much larger one. And how that small detail made you feel protected.
Then he leaned forward, his face inches from yours, the maniacal grin returning. He reached out, his fingers wrapping around your throat, so tight they resembled a collar. “You gave them your body. Now, I’m going to take your soul.”
You barely had time to whimper. He pulled you closer as his lips crashed against yours. His kiss wasn’t as gentle as Cora’s; it was demanding, possessive, borderline obsessive. He licked the seam of your lips and forced his way in, sucking on your tongue, and nipping your lower lip hard enough to break skin. You gasped into him, and he drank the sound, claiming everything he took from you.
Doflamingo’s hands kneaded your breasts, cupping and squeezing, leaving harsh marks with the force of his touch. He pinched your nipples, and your knees buckled, so he used his other hand to wrap his arm around your waist.
“Mine,” he growled, teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your neck. You could only moan and whimper, already dripping wet again from all his attention.
Doflamingo pulled you over his lap, making you straddle him, giving you a twisted sense of control. You had none. You were utterly lost to him and his ministrations.
The tip of his cock touched your slickened entrance, and you bucked your hips, looking for some friction, for something. His hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing you to stay still.
“Eager little thing, aren’t you? Fucked to bliss and back by Cora and Law, and you still want more?” Doffy’s chuckle vibrated against the hollow of your neck, where he sucked and bit. “Are you a gift to us? After all, gods are meant to be worshiped.”
Doflamingo rocked you back and forth against his cock, coating it in your slick, and every time the pressure reached your clit, you clenched, gritting your teeth. You didn’t need much more than that, just a few more strokes.
“But are you a poisoned gift? Or a blessing?” He pushed you harder against his length, and a lewd moan escaped your lips as you arched your back, fingers clawing at Doffy’s chest, seeking release.
“Doflamingo,” you whimpered, searching for more friction, but he was the one in control. Not you. Never you.
“What a needy thing you are. You want to be filled by my cock, don’t you?” He rocked you again, and this time used his thumb to press against your clit, the tip of his cock probing your entrance, giving you a small preview of what was to come, winding you so tight you thought you might snap.
You needed release. This was all too much.
“Please…” You barely registered the words that spilled from your mouth, but he heard them.
“Already begging?” You started to pant as he rubbed harder, his cock plunging inside you so, so slowly, his thumb relentless against your swollen nub.
A broken cry demanded to be set free. You were almost there…
“Not yet,” he rasped, stopping his motions and withdrawing from you. Emptiness and longing flooded you as a frustrated breath rolled between your clenched teeth.
Doflamingo gathered slick from your folds, touching around your clit, dipping one finger inside you, but it wasn’t enough for release. It only served to frustrate you further.
“Open,” he ordered, slicked fingers coating your lips, waiting for the warmth of your mouth. You did as he commanded, and he shoved his fingers so deep you gagged, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as your pussy clenched around nothing. “Lick ‘em clean, pretty thing.”
But he didn’t let you lick his fingers properly. He just fucked your mouth with them, seemingly enjoying the way you gagged around the length of his digits as you tried your best to satisfy his whims.
He withdrew his fingers and cupped your jaw with his wet hand. “Are you a spy?” This time, he wasn’t toying with you. The crimson in his eyes burned, and the grip with which he held you hurt.
“I’m not,” you choked out. “I’m just running away.”
He released your hip and wrapped his free hand around your throat, and, once again, burned you with his gaze. His fingers squeezed so hard that you were gasping for breath. Soon, your nails clawed at his exposed forearms, your legs twitching as you tried to get away from him.
So this was his denial of protection? They had toyed with you, taken from you, and now you were about to die at his hands?
“You have secrets, don’t you, querida?” Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t speak. “You know something others are willing to hunt for. That’s why you need our protection. Am I right?”
Air. You needed air.
Your eyes rolled back in their sockets as your hands lost all strength, sagging at your sides, the only memory of your fight being a few scratches against Doffy’s tanned skin.
And then he let go.
His hands released you for a desperate moment, during which you gasped for breath, inhaling oxygen like a dying woman. And then they claimed again, cupping your cheek, stilling you as he took your breath away once more, this time in a more merciful manner: a kiss.
You were still fighting to recover from the light-headedness his choking had caused you when he slammed his hips against you. Sheathing his cock as far as it would go, he split you open, hitting your cervix and coaxing a painful cry from your lips as you wrenched yourself free from his kiss.
“Yes, that’s it, take all of my cock, princesa. You’re being so good to me.” Fingers entwined in your hair, gripping, tightening, pulling so hard that tears fell without shame, streaking your already ruined face and pooling at your chin.
Doflamingo extended his long tongue, swiping away the tears and humming softly at the saltiness, his other hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. Then he slammed into you again with punishing thrusts. Out. In. Out. In. Barely giving you any time to breathe, process, or feel.
And then you were falling without looking back. Blind pleasure surged through you, making you arch your back and open your legs further to him as he slammed harder. You moaned his name along with pleas and prayers, and you would’ve melted against his body, a boneless mass, had he not held you tightly.
“Sí, cariño, sing to me. Call me your God and shower me with praises. Worship me and witness just how good I can be to you.”
He was not as kind as Cora, but he was not as ruthless as Law. He was an odd mix of both. Praising you while punishing you harshly, claiming you with brutal thrusts, and holding you close to his chest.
He was divine. Addictive. Dangerous.
You needed him.
“Break apart for me, mi pequeña. I will learn your secrets. You will be truly mine.”
And perhaps you could tell him all your secrets. Perhaps you could be truly his - theirs. They would protect you. It was all right. You asked them to, you traded yourself for that purpose.
All of yourself. To all of them.
Doflamingo pulled out of you, leaving you empty. He got up and placed you in the chair again. With a grunt, he opened his shirt, buttons flying everywhere, and then he manhandled you into the position he wanted: back to him, chest facing the chair, legs propped up over the arms, leaving you open and exposed to him.
“Hands behind your back,” he demanded. You looked over your shoulder at him as you obeyed his command. Sweat dampened his forehead, and beads of it trailed down his open shirt. He hadn’t removed many clothes as he took you.
Once your hands touched your lower back, he gripped your wrists with his hand, restraining you. Leaning down, he whispered, voice thick with want and breathlessness: “Say you’re mine.”
It was a command. Even if it weren’t, you’re not sure you could’ve contested what you knew to be the truth.
“I'm yours.” Your allegation was welcomed with a long swipe of his tongue on your sweaty neck.
“Sí, cariño, you are. You’re all ours now.”
With a hard shove, he positioned you again, pushing your face against the chair as he forced you to arch your back. Then he slammed into you once more without any warning.
The new position was unforgiving, you had no control over anything. His cock slammed relentlessly, somehow hitting deeper than you ever thought. It was pain and pleasure; exhaustion and bliss, and you couldn’t contain any of your loud moans and whimpers.
He was taking your soul, as promised.
“You belong to the Donquixote family. But you’re mine, first and foremost.”
His.
This possessive claim was all it took for another orgasm to wash over you. This one was smaller, more contained, but so powerful that you nearly blacked out. Your ears were ringing so loudly your head felt light; drool dripped from your open mouth as you kept panting and moaning, your sounds now muffled against the upholstery of the chair. You couldn’t feel your hands, so tight was Doflamingo’s grip on them.
But you were his now.
Doflamingo growled, the veins in his neck protruding as a maniacal grin took over his features again. He pistoned his cock deeper and harder into you, taking what little else you had to give. You were trembling, panting, a broken mess.
“You’re mine!” he repeated with a growl and a few sloppy thrusts. “And I always protect what’s mine!” With a grunt, he stilled inside you, ropes of thick, hot cum spurting from his tip, hitting your walls and spilling off you. You wobbled, unsteady, and he gripped your waist, pulling you against his body and releasing your hands from his hold.
Protection. He had granted it.
But at what cost? Because as you lay there, panting against his sweaty chest, you realised something: you had run away from monsters and headed straight into the arms of devils.
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|Chapter 2|
