All Of Yourself - 3
Source for Pic
All Of Yourself 3
Word Count: 6514
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; Why choose romance; Pierced!Law; Porn With Plot; Rough Sex; Still Unsure About Good or Bad Ending; Voyeurism; Spanking; Dom!Law; Somnophilia; BDSM; Use of aphrodisiac; Future Tags Will/May include: Breath Play; 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: Please do enjoy this very much Doflamingo-centred chapter. It was fun to write. Here's hoping it finally unblocked my creativity. *sigh*
Note 2: I seem to find a pattern here. I OBSESS over a song and a new chapter comes out... make sure you take a listen, it's the EXACT vibe I want for this fic.
Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |
Divider by @cafekitsune
Law had left the morning after and would be gone for God knew how long. At least, that was the only information Cora had for you. Cora assured you that Law had left on business—something he needed to clean up, people who needed to be interrogated—but you knew better.
You had pissed him off.
Sure, he might’ve been doing business too, but you ultimately knew he would much rather spend time away from you and the inconvenience that you posed, than put up with your advances.
You had screwed up. Even if you really were just trying to help him.
Doflamingo was strangely absent too, but maybe that was for the best. You knew he wanted to know all your secrets, and you were scared of the methods he might use to get them. Even though you knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, perhaps it was for the best.
You felt safe. For once in a very long time, you didn’t have to keep watching your back, or sleep with a knife under your pillow and one eye open.
When Doflamingo granted you protection, you thought you would be stowed away like their dirty little secret. Kept in misleading captivity, a gilded cage, left to your own devices until one of them decided they needed you.
But not sweet Cora. Cora never left you alone. You were in his room, his bed, his bathroom, his arms. He was obsessed, addicted in a way that made your heart swell. You knew it wasn’t love. But it was a twisted form of adoration. Maybe some way to heal from his own trauma, something he had yet to share with you.
Considering where you were and who you belonged to, his attachment to you was definitely the lesser evil. And yet… a twisted part of you, a hidden something you didn’t want to analyze, craved something else… someone else. Law… Doflamingo… you feared them, but your body responded to them in ways it didn’t with Cora.
They were different, and you needed them with equal fervor.
Yet you were enjoying the bliss of being Cora’s. He touched you like you were the answer to his prayers, beheld you like you were a goddess walking the earth, kissed you like you were giving him the air he needed to breathe.
And when he fucked you, he did it with reverence, leaving no inch untouched, no pleasure ungiven, no orgasm denied.
You were his.
But you knew, with absolute certainty, that you owned him.
-*-
You were summoned like a pet.
The afternoon sun was starting its descent, and you had been in Cora’s room reading a book he had brought you while he was away on business when a light knock on the door startled you. When you opened it, a staff member informed you that your presence was requested in the office.
And then left. Without any further information about why you were needed or who had summoned you. Though, instinctively, you knew.
Doflamingo. He had finally decided it was time to learn your secrets.
You took a few moments to gather your wits and strengthen your resolve. He would not get what he wanted without a fight. You still didn’t trust the Donquixotes enough. The information you held was valuable, and they could easily sell you to the highest bidder.
Doflamingo was only loyal to his family, and despite having granted you protection, his family would always come first.
Plagued by these thoughts that you reached his office. When you opened the door, you were blown away by its sheer opulence. If the other room—the one you had been brought into when you arrived—lacked furniture and personality, this one overflowed with both. Dark wooden panels, shelves of liquor and books, priceless art hanging on the walls, dim lighting, lush carpets, and a velvet chaise made this room unequivocally his.
The scent of his rich cologne—woodsy, spicy, forbidden—inflamed your nostrils, sending a warm tingle down your spine that you chose to ignore.
Doflamingo sat behind a dark mahogany desk, a throne of different sorts, for he was still every bit a king. One leg was draped over his knee, his head tilted to the side in curiosity, and his eyes hidden behind tinted lenses.
You shivered.
“You asked for me?” Try as you might to keep your voice steady, a small shiver of uncertainty still made it tremble.
He picked up on it—how could he not?—and his lips twitched with amusement. You stood by the entrance as the staff member closed the door behind you, leaving you both alone in a space that, despite being large, felt strangely suffocating.
Silence ate away the time, the antique grandfather clock in the corner ticking ominously, like a soundtrack to Doflamingo’s grand power play.
You trembled first, and just like that, he had the upper hand.
“You look so cozy in my brother’s clothes, pequeña. Do they make you feel safe?”
What?
You stared down at the oversized dress shirt you were wearing, something you had taken from Cora’s closet when the staff came looking for you. Your fingers gripped its hem and clenched, a sense of helplessness mixing with frustration.
“That’s irrelevant. Sir,” you added when his eyebrow quirked up. “I have no other clothes, and I refuse to walk around naked. Your brother lent me this.”
Further amusement showed on his face, making it twitch before he spoke again.
“What do you mean? You have a room of your own. You have clothes. Silk and lace, makeup, and an ensuite just for you,” he scoffed. “We are mobsters, querida, not savages.”
You felt heat creep up your neck and settle in your cheeks, setting them ablaze with embarrassment and frustration. How were you supposed to know they had given you a room? Cora kept you in his bed, in his room, in his arms.
“Oh, I see,” Doflamingo said, a low laugh emerging from his lips. “My brother has been keeping you all to himself. Too afraid that you'll leave him if he lets you go.” Another chuckle. “Pathetic…”
“He’s not pathetic!” The need to defend the one Donquixote who had been nothing but kind to you rose in the form of heated words you had no way to stop.
Doflamingo’s smirk faltered as he observed you, trying to read you.
“Interesting,” he muttered. Then he rose, took off the jacket of his impeccable wine-colored suit, and placed it neatly on the back of the chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he walked towards the shelf that held the liquor bottles—mostly whiskey. “He’s been coddling you too much, leading you to a false sense of safety.”
You shifted in your place to face him, still standing in front of the door, as if that gave you the possibility of running away from him. Fool.
“You granted me protection. Am I not supposed to feel safe in your home?”
“I granted you protection from whatever or whomever you were running from. You forget that you are now living amongst devils. You should never feel safe around us.”
A warning?
He let out a prolonged chuckle, his eyes glinting behind his tinted lenses. Then he poured a drink from a smaller crystal bottle—unlabeled—and started to walk towards you.
“Living with a little bit of fear is always the right way to do it. It makes your emotions run stronger.” With two long strides, he was towering over you. Craning your neck to look into his eyes, you clenched your fists, trying to control the erratic beating of your heart. “It makes your desires burn hotter.”
The unhinged smirk on his lips widened, his gaze finding the maddening throbbing of your pulse on your neck. His attention made the vein flutter harder and sent a shiver down your spine.
“Salud,” he exclaimed, grabbing your hand and placing the glass in it, urging you to drink.
You had no idea what was in it. Knowing Doflamingo’s reputation, it was either a spirit so magnificent it might’ve been made especially for him.
Or something more dangerous.
Your tongue tingled with the need to taste the liquid, your hand, still held by his larger one, trembled, your nerves showing. But you hesitated.
He cocked his head to the side, one eyebrow quirking up in curiosity. “It’s not poison, pequeña. It’s just something to… loosen your inhibitions.”
A drug, then.
He chuckled, and without letting go of your hand, brought the tumbler to his lips and took a sip. Your throat burned. His hidden eyes never left yours. When he finished the sip and brought the glass to your lips, you opened them.
And drank.
“Perfect,” he hummed, and his voice vibrated in your skin. The liquid dripped down your throat, burning you in its path and igniting your senses.
What was it?
Doflamingo removed the glass from your lips and leaned down; his tongue swiped your lower lip to collect the tiny drop left behind. The trail of the wet muscle blazed and burned, and the need to have him bite you instead of lick slammed your senses, coming out of nowhere.
“Hmm… Princesa, you taste like lies and omissions,” he drawled, pulling his face back just enough to lean against your ear, his whisper sending tingles down your neck and perking up your nipples. “You carry the scent of fear and betrayal with you like a shroud. What happened? Who are you running from?”
Your hand was still wrapped around the glass, held by his, and it was so hot that the burn was nearly painful. You clenched your other hand, your jaw locking as you felt the slight caress of his cheek against yours.
The heat from the drink was still blooming inside you—spreading. It burned from your throat to your lungs, down your belly, and settled low in your abdomen. It reached everywhere, making every pore, every single inch of your skin come alive.
He pulled back, letting go of your hand and taking the tumbler with him. Then he circled you. You didn’t turn to meet him, but your body felt him everywhere. “Can you feel it? The heat? The want? The need?”
His finger ran deliberately down your nape.
You bit your lower lip so hard it nearly drew blood. Holding your breath to contain any incriminating sound that might escape you, you made the awful realization of what you had just ingested.
An aphrodisiac.
“Let it sink in, cariño. Let loose. You’re not in danger anymore—well,” he chuckled, and the warm hair brushing right behind your ear sent a wave of heat to your core, making you clench your thighs instinctively. “That’s a lie, and we both know it. What I meant was that your life is no longer in peril.” His hands rested on your shoulders—lightly, very lightly—and then he ran them down your arms, the expensive cotton of the dress shirt rough against your over-sensitive skin yet, at the same time, maddening. “I told you before, what I want is your soul.”
You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, its accelerated beat sounding like a mating song. God, you needed him badly. Your body thrummed and hummed at his light touch and at every sinful word coming out of his perfect lips. Your brain kept feeding you images of the night you arrived and how thoroughly he ruined you.
You wanted it again.
His hands came up to your front, undoing the three buttons of the shirt with slow precision. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, a clear indication of your state, even though you weren’t speaking.
Slowly, Doflamingo peeled the shirt off you, letting it pool on the floor at your feet and leaving you bare to his scrutiny.
Heat. So much heat.
Sweat was already dripping from your temples, beading at the hollow of your throat. Your thighs were sticky, and you knew that wasn’t sweat. How in the world were you already dripping when he hadn’t even touched you properly?
How powerful was this aphrodisiac?
“Do you need something, princesa?” The innocence lacing his voice was equal parts dangerous.
You faced his empty desk, trying to focus on anything other than his intoxicating scent. “No,” you answered too quickly, too harshly.
Breathlessly.
“Liar,” he uttered. One word alone, but you could feel his disappointment. And dread settled alongside want inside your stomach. He pulled away from you, circling you like a predator taunting his prey, stretching the agonizing moments where the prey already knows it’s dead and there is no way of escaping, but where the predator still plays the game like there’s any chance of surviving it.
“Make no mistake, you will tell me one secret—one truth—tonight,” he stated, his voice so heavy with certainty that your stomach churned in response. “It is up to you to choose if you will share it willingly or not.”
Pictures of tortured, limbless bodies flashed before your eyes. Secret, and not-so-secret, documents that you had had access to showing all the horrors the Donquixotes were capable of. Were you to be subjected to the same torture, too? Would he call Law to surgically extract information out of you until you were begging them for your death?
Had they not granted you protection? Would they be capable of hurting you themselves?
“Come here,” Doflamingo demanded, chasing away your thoughts. You turned slowly and found him spread-legged on the chaise, one arm hanging on the back of it, his other hand patting his thigh in a sinful invitation.
Your breath caught in your throat. Even if you wanted to run away from him, you couldn’t; you were burning. Liquid fire was spreading through your veins, consuming everything in its path. You knew only one way to smother these flames, and he was beckoning you to him.
So you went.
Each step made you more aware of your body, and each move made your arousal ramp up to infinite heights. You could swear Doflamingo could smell the slick dripping between your thighs.
You didn’t care.
When you reached him, you were more than ready to be ravaged. He patted his thigh again, and you turned slightly to the side, aiming to sit properly on his leg, but he tutted at you, a mischievous grin spreading his lips.
“Not like that, querida,” he admonished. No more explanation was necessary. You turned to him, supporting your hands on his broad shoulders and straddling him, your knees sinking slightly on the velvety plushness of the chaise. You didn’t sink onto his lap, though, opting to hover over him, even though you wanted nothing more than to grind yourself against him for some sort of relief. He was still wearing his slacks, and you were feeling self-conscious about ruining them with your arousal.
He tutted again, placing his hand on your hip and applying pressure. You sank right into the hardness of his cock.
You closed your eyes, rolling them back as a shiver of pleasure coursed through your body when your clit came into contact with the rough fabric underneath you. This time, you actually drew blood while holding back a pathetic whimper of need.
Your hands slithered down to Doflamingo’s chest, feeling the tautness of his muscles coiling as he rolled you shamelessly against him. God, God, God! The amount of need and want building within you was insane.
With your eyes still closed, you felt the rumble of his chuckle in his chest before he let it out through his lips.
“You are so needy, princesa. Ruining my pants, gripping me so tightly but still trying to hold back those pretty noises,” he murmured, moving his mouth along the frantic pulse of your neck. The hand on the back of the chaise moved to grip your jaw, cupping it tightly. “Eyes,” he commanded.
You reluctantly opened them, knowing they would give away the turmoil of incessant desire building inside you. He pressed on your hip, forcing your core to grind harder against his clothed length. Your clit throbbed, and you moved your hips along to get more and more friction. Your legs trembled, your breath shook, and your nails sank relentlessly into expensive fabric.
Doflamingo held your eyes behind tinted lenses, and you knew you were about to shatter.
One more grind, just one more, perfect grind, and you would—
The strength he applied to your hip forced you to stop your motions, and this time, no force in heaven or hell could contain the frustrated whimper that parted your lips.
“Who are you running from?” Doflamingo asked. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he swiped it against your lips, collecting the little drops of blood you had drawn earlier and sending another wave of heat to your center.
You arched your back in response, your nipples grazing the fabric of his shirt as he still held your hips, keeping you from moving them.
“What do you know?” He fired another question, his lips brushing against yours while you panted, sweat drenching your body as you were held right on the brink.
“Nothing?” Doflamingo let out a dark chuckle. “I’ve got all night, cariño.” He let go of your jaw, slithering his hand between your thighs, circling your entrance—teasing you. “Dripping wet. So ready to be taken. I can give you the relief you seek if you give me one truth. Just one.”
Your lips remained sealed. You couldn’t tell him. You had no idea how long you were going to be able to hold on to your truths—your secrets—but you couldn’t let them know what you knew. If the secret got out, then the people after you would know where you were and who you were with. And even though the Donquixotes were devils, there were monsters far more evil than they.
“I admire your resolve, I really do. Let’s see how long you last,” he said, his words sounding more like a threat than a warning. His fingers moved, and he inserted two inside you with a curling motion.
You held back the ungodly moan ready to escape your lips but couldn’t control the shaky huff that flared your nostrils. Your nails sank so hard into his chest that he hissed, his grin turning feral as he bucked his hips up unwillingly.
Then it hit you. This was torture for him as well; he had taken a sip of the aphrodisiac.
No, no, it couldn’t be. Just a sip shouldn’t take his control away like that. But that meant that he was having a hard time controlling his lust simply because of how much he desired you.
That thought didn’t have time to linger in your mind as Doflamingo withdrew his fingers from you just as you were about to come. A groan left you, and you trapped an expletive behind your teeth before he used one hand to grip your wrists together behind your back.
“You will tell me what I want to know. It’s just a matter of time, or how much of this you can take,” he mumbled against the hollow of your throat. He was still holding your hips in place, but he pulled on your wrists, making you arch your back further, and started to lick his way down your sternum.
When his mouth touched your breast, heat curled in your belly, the coil tightening further as you tried to control your panting. And then, achingly slowly, he circled around your nipple with his hot tongue, never truly touching its hardness, leaving you desperately lacking, pulsing with need.
Every inch of you was throbbing, shaking with desire. Your skin felt so sensitive that it was like you were burning from the inside out. And the fire only kept spreading further, burning brighter and hotter with nothing to stop it.
“It’s only words, princesa, no outside harm will come to you. I told you that you’re safe with us,” he assured you, licking his way to the other nipple without truly touching it.
Only words. God, yes. Only words. You could say it. And then he would end this maddening torture. You could…
But you wouldn’t.
His mouth returned to your ear, hot breath tickling your skin, sending a wave of dizziness into your head. “Do you realize just how easily I could make you come?” Your swollen clit throbbed with his empty promise. “One flick of my wrist and you’d be unraveling and writhing in my lap.” Your nipples tightened so hard they ached. “You’re so sensitive right now, cariño, that one brush of my finger would shatter you.”
He was right, oh, he was so right. And your achingly empty cunt protested when he didn’t do any of the things he was promising.
“Fucking admirable,” he exclaimed.
Then he let go of your hips and your wrists, leaning back against the chaise and observing you. You wobbled without the support of his hands and instinctively clenched your legs around him to hold steady. Without his hands to hold you back, you arched, ready to roll your hips and grind him to completion.
“Don’t you dare.” It was a command. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t even alter his tone, but the whisper forced you to obey all the same. So you didn’t move. And the pain of emptiness echoed in your atoms.
“Please…” you whispered against your better judgement. His eyebrow shot up, followed by the corner of his lips.
“Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” This was his leniency. His reprieve. Him hoisting his white flag while you pondered the pros and cons of giving up the information you held, the only bargaining chip you possessed, and, quite frankly, the unleashing of a death threat over your head the minute you shared it.
It wasn’t worth a few seconds of pleasure.
“Very well, then. Brace yourself,” he stated while his grin widened to unhinged lengths.
And then it was all a blur. Time passed. Sometimes slowly, other times maddeningly fast. Seconds, minutes, hours… you had no idea. It all blended as you were held in a limbo of ecstasy and torture.
Doflamingo kept edging you, leading you to the brink of climax over and over again. So many times you’d lost count. You were a mess of sweat, slick, tears, and drool. You were no longer shaking but rather quaking. Each taunt, each touch, each lick or brush of lips made you dizzy, your body thrumming and aching for him. Needing him. Desiring him. Lusting him.
It was madness.
You’d lost control of your moans a while back, your throat aching and raw after trying to contain them. You were sure some of your nails had cracked with how hard you dug them into his skin and the chaise. Your hair was so damp with sweat that it stuck to your scalp, and your feverish skin was scalding hot.
Somewhere along the line, Doflamingo had gotten rid of his sweat-soaked shirt, his spectacular torso glistening with sweat, too. His glasses lay forgotten somewhere over his desk, and his eyes, heaven forbid, glinted with madness and amusement.
You had no strength left. Nothing more to give, yet at the same time, you still held everything inside.
He had you lying on the ruined chaise—there was no way he was keeping it after what your bodily fluids had done to it—panting and holding back frustrated tears. You were shaking, just wishing the torture to end, even if he left you dangling on the edge, he needed to stop. You couldn’t take any more.
But this was Doflamingo. He wasn’t going to stop.
His fingers brushed your core and slipped inside without any resistance, given how wet you were. He curled them up and pressed, and, by God, that nearly sent you soaring. You arched your head back and let out a strangled cry. The loudest noise you’ve made since he started this.
Doflamingo stopped, his face leaning down, red eyes glinting to meet your own. “Are you ready to talk, princesa?” His voice was soft and ragged at the same time, the hours having also taken their toll on him.
No.
Yes.
Maybe.
The world was spinning too fast, the air was reaching your lungs too slowly, and the fire burning in your veins was too consuming.
Stop. He needed to stop. He—
“Teach…” you rasped, your voice sounding miles away; unused, raw, and aching.
You shut your eyes and let another stubborn fear trickle down your cheek. You couldn’t hold on to your secret.
“Ah,” Doflamingo said, making you open your eyes. “I see.” He seemed pensive for a moment, but then his grin returned. He withdrew his fingers from inside you, licking each of them as if he had just finished the greatest meal of his life. You hated how that turned you on even more.
You thought he was done. That he would send you away or leave you there to fend for yourself. Instead, he raised you so you had your back leaning against the chaise and kneeled in front of you.
Your breath caught in your throat—surely you were dreaming. You had blacked out from the incessant torture, and this was the result of it. Because there was no way in hell Donquixote Doflamingo would kneel in front of you.
“I asked for one truth. You delivered. You’ve earned this reward.”
Then, without warning, he spread your thighs and devoured you.
The first lick nearly sent you over the edge. Your head lolled back against the plushness of the chaise, a ragged cry leaving your lips like a prayer, heat searing away at every single inch of your skin, and ache blooming between your legs.
You were going to come.
Hours and hours of stimulation without release were going to make you crash violently and quickly.
Doflamingo was aiming for it.
His long tongue reached places inside you that made you whimper and squirm; the palm of his hand burned imprints into your thighs, spreading you open so he could feast.
You took a sharp breath…
And shattered.
The orgasm hit you like a violent tsunami, wrecking everything in its path. Wave after wave of pleasure numbed your extremities, ignited the fire in your belly, turning your panting into loud moans and soft prayers.
Too much.
Not for him.
He didn’t stop. Didn’t relent. Didn’t let you recover. Doflamingo’s fingers pressed harder into your thighs, holding you in place and bringing you closer to his mouth when you started to writhe away from his ministrations.
You sobbed, a few words dropping from your lips—might’ve been his name, might’ve been gibberish—and he continued.
A second orgasm followed the first without preamble, making your legs shake and convulse, your hips bucking from overstimulation.
And he didn’t stop.
Tears streamed down your face in rivulets, your vision blurred, your throat dry from moaning, gasping, and crying out.
Only when your body lay limp, exhausted, messy, and ruined did he stop. He rose, chin wet from your release, lips spread in a wide smile and glistening like a madman who had found his obsession and was unwilling to let it go.
Your body shivered and twitched involuntarily. All the orgasms he had denied you were being handed to you on a silver, murderous platter.
“We’re not done, princesa,” he rasped, his voice raw from holding back. He seemed like a man who had no patience to see all of his wishes fulfilled, so these hours he played you might’ve also been torture for him.
With a swift movement, he undid his belt, the button, and the zipper of his slacks, throwing them carelessly to the side. You barely had time to register the magnificence of Donquixote Doflamingo’s naked body before he settled between your legs, laying you back on the chaise.
“Your reward, mi querida.”
He lined himself up. And then he thrust.
Your back arched off the chaise, nails raking the ruined fabric as a cry that didn’t seem like your own tore through your throat. Even though you were more than wet, slick everywhere, you still felt the stretch of his cock against your walls.
It was divine and sinful at the same time.
And not enough.
With a deep grunt, Doflamingo grabbed your hips and pulled back. Then he thrust back in with such force it stole the breath from of your lungs. The pace he set after that was relentless.
He leaned forward, brushing his moving chest against yours, the sweat of your bodies colliding, the ungodly slaps of skin on skin making you even more aroused, turning your brain to mush and spiking your pulse to soaring heights.
Doflamingo slithered a hand between your bodies and furiously circled your swollen clit.
You came again.
By all the Gods that are and ever were, you shattered on his cock once more, just when you thought you had nothing left to give.
“Still not done,” he snarled, thrusting faster and harder, curling your legs and holding you by the knees as he pounded relentlessly. The chaise groaned and protested beneath you, and your cries and moans blurred into an unending crescendo.
He kept going, even as you lay spent, no control whatsoever over your spasming body. It twitched and trembled, shaking under his ministrations as he kept making you come. One orgasm building into another until you were nothing more than sensation and overstimulation.
Black dots floated in your vision, and your voice turned hoarse. You knew you were about to pass out.
But so did he.
With two more thrusts, he stilled inside you, coming with a deep, guttural growl as beads of sweat cascaded down his forehead and temple, gathering on his chin and dripping over your body.
For a moment, everything stilled except your ragged breaths. He held your gaze, and in your delirious state, you found something other than his usual madness.
It was warmth.
And then everything went dark.
-*-
You turned to the side and moaned in pain. Everything hurt. Every muscle, every limb, every bone in your body was screaming.
But there was warmth and softness all around you.
You slowly opened your eyes, finding that you were in a bed. Not Cora’s. Definitely not Doflamingo’s. The room felt impersonal, with its cream and white tones, pillows, a vanity, and a closet. Could this be the room Doflamingo told you about? Your room?
Doflamingo…
You shifted slowly, and the soreness between your legs made your heart rate climb. You swallowed, and your throat felt raw and bruised. Flashes of what had happened ran through your mind like a movie—an R-rated, filthy movie—and heat crept up your neck, settling in your cheeks.
You had never felt torture like the one Doflamingo inflicted upon you, but you had never felt that kind of pleasure either. With a soft groan, you buried your face in the pillow, trying to shy away from all the feelings and emotions creeping up on you.
Especially how you had caved and the implications that would bring.
That’s when you noticed the softness of the sheets, the sweet lavender scent coming from them and from you, like you’d been bathed and—one quick look down—dressed.
You sat up and swallowed a whimper from the strain. You were wearing a silk nightgown, deep red, short, and with a slit on the side that went up your thighs. Had Doflamingo dressed you? Bathed you? Cleaned you up?
Impossible.
He didn’t seem like a man who would do that. Doflamingo wasn’t soft or warm with anybody. He must’ve called Cora to do it. You ignored the little voice of reason telling you that Cora would’ve never left your side had it been him, and instead looked around.
The closet’s doors were left slightly ajar, and you could see rows of feminine clothes inside, as well as shoes lined up neatly on the floor. So this really was meant to be your room.
On the nightstand, there was a small tray with a covered glass of water, two pills—you assumed to be painkillers—and some food.
Your heart twisted strangely at the kindness, while your head still denied that this could be Doflamingo’s doing. With a soft shake of your head, you swallowed the pills with the water, tried to have a few bites of food, and, looking outside the window, realized it was still the middle of the night, so you settled down to rest some more.
You held your eyes open, gazing at the pillow next to you until they burned and started to water. Then you blinked and repeated the process. Your heartbeat ramped up to impossible heights as something like warmth bloomed in your chest.
The soft pillow next to yours was rumpled and creased, almost like someone had been lying there.
Like someone had stayed for a while.
Watching you.
-*-
Law stepped inside Doflamingo’s office with a scowl on his lips, as usual. He noticed the absence of the chaise in the corner, saw the smirk on Doflamingo’s face—promptly ignored it—and sat down on the chair facing the desk, crossing his legs.
“Great timing for your return, Law,” Doflamingo drawled, twirling a red wine glass by the stem with his thumb and forefinger.
“Is it? Because I would rather be elsewhere. I was looking forward to some R&R.”
“Rest and relaxation?” Cora asked from the corner. He was sitting near the open window, smoking, his face heavy.
Law smirked. “Not really. More like ‘ruin and repentance’. I’ve brought Caesar back, and I want to know why the Green Bit deal went to shit. I do the ruining, and they always repent near the end.”
Cora shook his head and sighed heavily while Doffy laughed behind his desk.
“Why are we all gathered here?” Law asked, cutting to the chase, his patience wearing thin.
“I got a name. Our esteemed guest told me who she’s running away from,” Doflamingo said, pausing dramatically for reactions that never came. “Teach.”
Law straightened in his chair, and Cora rose and started pacing the room, his cigarette forgotten in the ashtray.
“Marshall D. Teach? From the Blackbeard family?” Law asked, and Doffy nodded. “He’s after her?” Another nod. “Why?”
“Don’t know. I asked her for one truth and, frankly, she was too tired to give me more after that,” he drawled, amusement dripping with every word.
“Too tired?” Cora interjected, stopping next to Doflamingo and glaring at him.
“Oh, yes. Hours of careful interrogation. She was a very hard nut to crack.” The unhinged grin on his face widened, and Law knew without a shadow of a doubt that Doflamingo’s interrogation was nothing like the ones he liked to perform.
“Hours of torture, Doffy! I saw you carrying her out of here. She was out cold.” It had been a while since Law had heard this level of anger in Cora’s voice. Interesting.
“Torture?” Doflamingo laughed, setting the glass of wine down on the desk. “Hardly! It’s not torture when you're rewarded with orgasms. It’s foreplay. And I was very generous.”
Cora was seething. He started pacing again, his hands clenched into fists.
“She’s still recovering from what you did!”
“It means I did my job well, brother.” Doflamingo’s smirk turned into a frown, his voice turning low and dangerous, a clear indicator that he was done explaining himself, even to his brother.
“How can you—”
“I’ll get the rest of the information out of her,” Law said, interrupting Cora. Both brothers stared at him. Doffy with a hint of amusement, Cora with unfiltered anger. “If she’s sitting on information that might be important to us, we need to act. If Teach finds out where she’s hiding, we’ll become his next target.”
Not that he was afraid. The Blackbeards were a powerful family, with money, power, and many allies. The numbers they had were the only thing mildly alarming. What Law didn’t like was to be kept in the dark. He liked to know all the variables to a problem so he could formulate plans to succeed.
“I am not going to let you subject her to your kind of torture, Law. Not on my watch.” Cora’s stern warning made him clench his jaw. Law was no longer a child. Cora had no right to admonish him like that.
“This is important, Cora. You don’t get to play protector if she’s putting us all in danger. This is about the family’s safety.”
“She is under the family’s protection! She is part of us, whether or not it’s inconvenient for you, Law,” Cora asserted, towering over Law’s sitting form. Doflamingo watched them both with interest and renewed amusement.
Law’s jaw clenched. “Doffy only got half the truth. Half the truth could get us all killed. You want that to happen just so you can get your dick wet, Cora?”
Cora hummed in disappointment, shaking his head. “Don’t disrespect me, Law.”
A pang of uneasiness reverberated in Law’s chest before he brushed it away.
“I’m not. I’m just reminding you not to let your feelings get in the way of the family’s safety. She’s not worth it.”
“She’s worth every bit of it,” Cora spat, his eyes glinting with certainty.
Silence lingered in the air like a thick fog, the tension humming so loudly it was palpable.
Doflamingo got up, placing his palms on the desk and drawing their attention to him. “I will not have a woman sow dissent in this family. You can argue, and you can disagree. But you are family. She is not.”
Cora opened his mouth to protest, but Doflamingo’s glare made him swallow his words.
“However, she is under our protection, and we now know Teach is after her. We will look into his family and see what we can find. After she rests and regains her strength, we’ll speak to her. No torture,” he said, turning his eyes to Law. “No coddling,” he finished by locking eyes with his brother. “We will speak like four adults and get to the bottom of this.”
Doflamingo held their eyes for a moment before settling back on his chair and picking his wine glass up.
Cora’s gaze returned to the window and to the cigarette that had burned to the filter, smoking itself into nonexistence in the ashtray.
Law uncrossed his legs and leaned on his elbows, a pensive look on his face.
“Teach won’t wait for us to have a civil conversation like adults,” Law pointed out. “If—when—he finds out she’s here, and if what she’s hiding is as important as I suspect it to be, he’ll bring war to our doorstep.”
Doflamingo looked at Law over his tinted sunglasses, his characteristic grin returning with a low rumble of his chuckle. “Let. Him. Come.”
Cora sighed, dropping his eyes to the floor as the air shifted around the room with an unspoken understanding. You were under their protection. They would not break that promise.
Even if it meant risking war between two of the most dangerous families in the city.
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