#cora x reader

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. 

Taglist: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @elysian-asphodel @daydreamer-in-training @iloveyoushanks @thegalaxysedge22 @kyllium @keiva1000 @chibinasuu @my-name-is-heartache @laidenbreecatchall @moldychefboyardeecan @dazzlingstarlight23 @bearg-bia @babyboofangirl @praline357 @walmartmihawk

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💖Who Wakes up first in the morning:💖 Cora does, he wakes up early in the morning with a force of habit from his marine days and starts his morning cigarette, having a habit of setting his bed on fire before quickly putting it out. It had become a habit for his lover to wake up and put out the fire before he pulls them on his lap and apologizes to them. He later learned to start his cigarette in the kitchen, wanting them to sleep in, but then got in another habit of trying to cook for them, causing fire every morning but giving his S/O a burnt breakfast full of love.

💖Who’s the first to fall asleep at night:💖 His S/O, he likes to watch them sleep. It was a force of habit to stand guard and watch; he is protecting his S/O. He is aware of how dangerous and cruel the world is despite his goofy and positive grin. He tries to keep a positive outlook on life, wanting his S/O to feel safe and protected. He will watch his lover with a loving expression, stroking their cheek before falling asleep, wrapping his large body around them.

💖What they playfully tease each other over:💖 His lover will tease him over how clumsy he is. Cora is well aware of how clumsy he is and such and aware that his S/O is always prepared with first aid, fire extinguishers, and such. His S/O would make fun of him lightly on how much they have to work to care of him or clumsy he is and such, but it is in such a loving way. He takes no offense to it and often teases himself as well.  He would tease his S/O where they are comfortable and light tease much like his S/O.

💖What they do when the other’s having a bad day:💖 Cora will do everything in his power to make sure his S/O feels so much better. If his S/O is having a hard time, he feels the weight too; he will make cheesy and lame jokes as his sense of humor is very light. He would bring his S/O places they love to go or bring them things they would love to see, but most of all, he is the shoulder for his S/O to cry on, listen to their problem, bring them tea or other favorite drink, and just cuddle on the sofa. It is how he would like to be treated.

💖How they say ‘I’m sorry after arguments:💖 He will always apologize if he is wrong. It won’t even take long for him to apologize after an argument about the overwhelming guilt of seeing his S/O hurt, even after a pitiful argument. He will smile at them and such with the broken flower, he tried giving his S/O but ended up tripping and ruining the flower. But he will apologize with a big grin and positive words.

💖Which one’s more ticklish:💖That is debatable, Cora does have a few ticklish sides on his side and legs. If his S/O gives him a light poke on his side, it will have him jump and trip over himself it is adorable. He will stare blankly at his S/O. His thighs are also ticklish a good squeeze has him squirming in his seat and in bed.

💖Their favorite rainy day activities:💖 He enjoys walking in the rain with his S/O, watching the way the rain hits the flowers as he holds the umbrella while they walk hand in hand.  He will take his S/O to very special places to watch the rain. Of course, he will slip and fall a few times, dragging his S/O with him and getting them both wet. Both he and S/O will drag themselves back home, take a quick shower before settling on the couch with a warm drink and watching the rain fall.

💖How they surprise each other:💖 The first time Cora caught of fire, his S/O surprised as they watched wide-eyed as he sat smoking his cigarette, unaware his black cloak was on fire before watching someone else pour water on him. It was such a sight. He does like surprising his S/O with traveling to amazing places or just bring them a simple broken flower they had picked up wanting to show them. He will love any surprises his S/O brings them as long as they are safe and happy.

💖Their most sickening show of public affection:💖 He will say ‘I love you’ every once in a while, to surprise his S/O of course eh will use power to hide is words and if his S/O wishes to confess to him. He wants to hold their hand a lot and will blush if his S/O wishes to kiss his cheek.

“five more minutes.” cora grumbled, pushing her head further into the soft plushness of your breasts. though her mouth was mildly agape, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she slightly shuffled against the thick sheets.

your slender cocoa brown fingers became tangled into your girlfriend’s rich brunette hair as you gently comb throughout her smooth hair. every moment, you would so often scratch her scalp, adoring how her nose would slightly twitch whenever you repeated that action.

“baby, c’mon…we can’t miss this flight.”

“there’ll be plenty more flights to beacon hills, just cancel this one.…” the hale girl complies, her voice still hoarse, although her mind was still sleepy. “i’d rather spend much more time with you anyway.”

comprehending your girlfriend’s words, as you let out a soft exhale, twirling imaginary shapes on her lower back.

“only this one time pretty baby.” you teased.

it was only then that her eyes snapped open, her supernatural speed and strength gave her a bonus as she held your arms above your head.

she growled out, eyes currently narrowed as her werewolf eyes came into play. “don’t call me a pretty baby. haven’t been one in awhile and i’m definitely not looking forward to being treated like one anytime soon.” suddenly, she straddled your body to make herself more intimidating to you.

you perceived her common dominance as adorable, whilst she would plainly disagree.

cora was still dealing with her trauma from which the pack of alphas had put her through, resulting in her locking her vulnerability away. she had a tendency to let certain people in, which, thankfully, included you; her loving girlfriend.

it was occasionally rare when you would melt away all the coldness to discover generosity beneath.

“fine…“ you pout, opting not to look in her direction for the sake of your mischievousness.

“call me your pretty girl.” she concluded, letting go of your wrists. “i find that more appealing.”

“who knew that cora hale would be such a softy.” you feigned shock, grabbing her by the wrists as you gently pulled her closer, creating a tiny gap between your lips. “especially for little ol’ me.”

her soft plump connects to your jaw then further downward to your neck, placing tiny wet open kisses there. “this stays between us..”

“anything for my pretty girl.”

“You’re staring,” Stiles pointed out, drawing you back to reality. 

“I’m not staring,” you said defensively. “I’m just …” 

“Watching her dance across the room with some guy, hoping she’ll see you in the middle of her twirl and that she’ll stop and come over here and just lay one on ya?” Stiles asked with an annoying smirk on his face. 

“Is that my fantasy or yours, Stilinski?” you asked, folding your hands over your chest. 

“Come on, Y/N,” Stiles laughed, tugging at your arms so they fell at your sides. “Go shoot your shot. Cora Hale doesn’t bite … much.” 

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away. “Whatever. She’s with Justin so I’m thinking I’ll just get loaded and make out with someone else.” 

“Sounds like a plan!” Stiles called after you as you walked away to find something to refill your solo cup with. 

You thought about your relationship with Cora as you poured whatever alcohol you could find in Lydia’s kitchen in the cup. You’d met way back in freshman year when Derek dropped her off at Beacon Hills High and she threatened to punch the senior who was harassing you. A hurried thank you later and you two became fast friends. The only problem is that you’d been in love with her since that first day when she slammed Derek’s car door so hard that you felt it from the rack you were chaining your bike to. 

Every snarky comment and heated argument only made it worse for you. She was strong-willed, and stubborn, and a complete pain in the ass, but she was the first one to ask if you were okay after Peter attacked you at the school. She was the one that pulled Jackson off you when he went all murdery in sophomore year. She brought you soup when the alphas beat you up so bad that you missed school to heal. She was always there when you needed her. 

And you were there for her every full moon. When you all thought Derek was dead, you were the one that held her until she cried herself to sleep. You were in the stands cheering her on at every soccer match. You helped her with homework when she couldn’t figure how the hell to factor polynomials. You were there when she was dared to key Harris’ car (and the detention that followed). So it was no surprise when, after one drink too many, you were throwing up in Lydia’s bathroom and she came to find you. 

“Woah, how much did you drink, angel?” Cora asked, bending down to scoop your hair into her hands. Angel. She always called you her angel because you always kept her from doing bad things, and she was the little devil on your shoulder that told you to just have fun every once in a while. Not because she was in love with you - that was just wishful thinking.

“Maybe a little too much,” you hiccupped, looking up at her. The bathroom light made a perfect halo around her head and she looked so beautiful. Like your angel.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s more of a definitely than a maybe.” She dampened a facecloth and dabbed your cheeks lightly. Her hands were warm as they held your face up gently. When she got up to find a toothbrush from the hordes of unused toiletries the Martins kept for guests, you almost reached out to pull her back. Almost. 

Cora made you brush your teeth and rinse out your mouth, and then she guided you through the house and to the kitchen. Upon request, you sat on the counter and watched her dig through the cupboards for food. 

“What do you want to eat?” she asked. “I’ve got popcorn and-” 

“I want a milkshake,” you said. 

“A milkshake?” 

You nodded and laughed at the face she was making. “You just need, like, ice cream and a blender. Pleeeaaasssee, Cora?” 

Cora sighed and rolled her eyes, eventually giving in. “Okay. But don’t tell anyone. Can’t have the rest of those dumbasses thinking I can be nice.” 

“Mmmm, but you’re always nice to me.” 

Cora didn’t answer as she took out the blender and whatever else she needed to make the milkshake. You watched her carefully as she did so, trying to absorb every moment. The party was still going hard throughout the rest of the house, but it felt like you two were the only ones in the world as you sat in the kitchen. 

Cora had, mistakenly, left the can of whipped cream within your reach, and you leaned over - almost falling backward off the island - and grabbed it. Cora rushed over when she heard the clattering, but it was too late; you’d already squirted like half the can into your mouth. 

“Y/N!” She put her hands around yours, trying to pry the can out of your hands. You were laughing too much to put up much of a fight, but she wasn’t doing too good of a job either. “That’s really disgusting, you know that?” 

“You want some?” you asked, mouth still kind of full. You tilted the can up, ignoring Cora’s cries that no, she did not want some. 

You started pouring too soon and she was squirming so much that the whipped cream went everywhere. On her face, down her dress, splattering on the floor, even in her hair. It didn’t matter though, because you were both laughing way too much to care about the mess. 

“You owe me a new dress,” Cora said once the laughter died down. She took the can from your hand and turned to put on the counter behind her, but you held onto her shoulders and pulled her back to face you. 

“What if I make it up to you?” you asked. You were equally covered in whipped cream due to how close you and Cora were and what a spectacular failure you’d committed earlier. 

“And how do you plan to do that?” 

She looked so pretty, even covered in whipped cream and with her hair all messed up. It made your drunk little heart want to explode. Without any hesitation, you cupped her face in your hands and pulled it up to yours. You felt her hands snake around your waist and pull you a touch closer. Your cream covered hands made their way up to her hair, but neither of you were too worried about the sticky situation anymore.

“Woah, what happened here?” 

You both pulled away at the sound of Stiles’ voice, but you were still holding onto one another. Looking at him with your arms around one another, it was a painfully awkward moment. 

“I wanted a milkshake,” you told him. 

“She wanted a milkshake.” 

Stiles leaned against the doorframe, popping a chip into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously. “Uh, huh,” he said. “And where does the, uh-” 

“Oh, my god. What did you do to my kitchen?” Lydia rushed in, setting down empty bowls and staring at the wreckage. Her huge, worried eyes only made you and Cora laugh. Any awkwardness that arose when Stiles interrupted completely disappeared. 

“Don’t worry, Lydia. We’ll clean it,” Cora promised. 

She didn’t look convinced though. Stiles bumped her arm and she took a breath, forcing a smile on her face. “Whatever,” she said eventually. “I’m just glad you two finally got together. You’ve been in love since like freshman year and it was getting kinda annoying.” 

She stormed out and you laughed again as Cora made space for you to hop off the countertop. The two of you cleaned up the mess you’d made, laughing along the way and kissing a few more times, before the party ended and Cora drove you home. You held her hand the whole way. 

“So you’ve really been in love with me since freshman year?” you asked. You played with her fingers when she parked the car in your driveway and looked at her. 

“Why do you think I call you ‘angel?’” she asked. 

“Because you kind of flirt with everyone.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Uh, yeah, you do,” you said. “Like everyone in our friend group has had a crush on you at some point or another.” 

“No, they haven’t!” 

“Uh, yeah, they have. You Hales are all so intense and you don’t realize that makes everyone in a five-mile radius fall in love with you.

“Well, I didn’t have a crush on any of them.” Cora got a little awkward and stared straight ahead. Even after all you’d been through, she still got weird whenever she had to talk about herself. “I only had a crush on you,” she mumbled. 

“What was that last part?” you teased, leaning closer to poke her side. “You only had a what?”