#donquixote Doflamingo x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

froggiewrites · 1 month ago

Text

Puppeteer

Pairing: Doffy x Reader

SFW

Summary: Your life is perfect. Doflamingo has made it that way. But a small slip of the tongue makes you think maybe your husband had more of a hand in the events that lead you to him that you initially thought. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Angst, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Possessive Behavior, Yandere, Doffy is...Doffy Word Count: 7.7k Notes: I've been working on this piece since November, so I'm SO excited to have finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy it!

Your life was perfect. Your husband made sure of it.

You had anything you wanted, when you wanted it, without exception. The life of a queen, even before he had gifted you a crown.

But that wasn’t what mattered to you, really. It was nice, but what you were truly grateful for was how Doflamingo had saved you. From the world, from betrayal, from yourself. You were at risk of falling into a dark place when you met him, and he lifted you up, brought you comfort and protection. To you, his cloak might as well be the wings of an angel.

He insisted that it was nothing. That was simply his job as your lover. He tended to ignore the fact he was not your lover at the time. Destined from the moment you met, you suppose.

“You might not have known it, but you were always mine. I was simply doing what’s right.”

You had always thought that line was sweet. You thought he meant you were destined, that you were his and he was yours.

For the first time in your life, you were having doubts about that.

It was a small slip up. Almost nothing, really. Baby 5 often goes on long tangents, so it’s a wonder you even noticed what she said, let alone processed it. But while extolling the virtues of her latest obsession, claiming this was true love (as they always are), you couldn’t help but notice an odd phrase in the middle.

“He’s so reliable! He was so worried about me, he said I’m ‘too naive’, and that I need someone to look after me. It reminds me of how Doffy is with you! Isn’t it so sweet that he wants to protect me?” She’s beaming, and you can barely get out your question as she tries to continue her ramble.

“Why does he remind you of Doffy?” Your husband is reliable, of course, and he does his best to look out for everyone in the family, but he would never call you naive. He had never, once, in your decade of marriage implied even for a second he thought you were incapable of looking after yourself.

You had asked him once, very early on in your relationship, why he insisted on doing everything for you, why he waited on you hand and foot when he knew that you would never ask that much of him. He had smiled at you gently, an expression you were sure no other person on the planet had seen, and spoken with such fondness you couldn’t help but melt. “I do this because I love you, little bird. You don’t need to read anything else into it.”

So when Baby 5 smiles again, saying, “He looks at me the way Doffy looks at you,” you can’t help the way your heart drops. You haven’t met this suitor, but you know the way men look at Baby 5. She isn’t a partner to them, she’s a target. A victim. Prey to be lured in and devoured. Your instinct is to say this is simply another delusion on her part, another desperate illusion from her need to be needed. But the way she says it, the look in her eye, it seems far more based in reality than the rest of her spiel.

But that can’t be right. Your husband loves you, respects you. This is just another part of Baby 5’s incurable lovesickness, her romanticization of any man that gets his claws in her. “The way he looks at me, huh?”

“Yeah! It’s so romantic.” And then she’s off to the races again, completely unaware of the seed she’s planted.

You can’t dig it up, no matter how hard you try. Once a thought is in your head it cannot be unthought. So instead you bury it, as deeply as you can, and you pray that it will not take root, will not be strong enough to break through the soil. You love your husband, your life together. You will not ruin it through unearned paranoia.

When he comes to bed that night, he finds you lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His voice and hands are gentle, as they always are with you. He has never spoken to you the way he does most people, has always given you the kindness he denies others. He still has a temper, of course, but on the very rare occasions it has turned to you it has been mild, and the apology has been quick.

“What’s wrong, little bird?” He lays next to you, his arm immediately coming to wrap around you. The weight is comforting, familiar, something that has made you feel safe for as long as you can remember. You try to relax into him, but a voice in you whispers we’re trapped. You feel like you can’t breathe. You want to ignore it, suffer in silence, but your ever observant husband notices immediately, removing his arm with a frown. “Did something happen?”

You sit up, moving toward the window. You need air. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just anxious, is all.”

“Anxious?” His frown deepens. “Darling, you have nothing to worry about. What is it? Let me help.” He follows you, reaching around you to open the window for you, letting the night air in. Your turn to face him. With his arms on either side, his eyes flashing in the moonlight, for a moment you feel like nothing more than an animal in a cage, with a predator bearing down on you.

But then the cold air hits your back, those terrifying eyes are filled with concern, and your husband is back. Of course everything is alright. Of course you have nothing to worry about. You’re happy. Doffy has made sure of it. “It’s just…a horrible feeling I can’t shake. Nothing is actually wrong, I promise.”

He purses his lips a moment, displeased. “If you need something, you’ll have it. You know that, right?” His hand rests on your cheek, cradling you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. To him, you truly are.

“I know, my love. I promise, it really is nothing.”

He lets out the smallest puff of a sigh. “Alright. I’ll let it go for now. Come back to bed, darling. I won’t be able to sleep without you.” His words start as an order, but his tone turns almost pleading. Doflamingo does not beg, of course, but for you he can at least command politely.

“Of course.” You practically fall into his arms, allowing him to carry you back to your bed. He holds you tightly, as though he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers the moment he loosens his grip. For a moment you swear you see some tension around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw, but when you rest your head on his chest it all seems to vanish.

“Goodnight, little bird,” he whispers, pressing the ghost of a kiss to your temple. You fall asleep pressed firmly against his chest, where you’re meant to be.

You bury your doubts. You love him. He loves you. Why is such a small comment enough to throw you? Do you have that little faith in your husband?

Or did it simply uncover concerns you were ignoring? Force them into the light of day when you would much rather have let them rot?

You’re happy. What else could you want or need?

A month passes, then two. You’ve forgotten the conversation. You must have. You don’t lay awake at night, overturning small interactions in your head, desperate to find some hidden meaning in it.

He always calls you little. Is it simple affection, or is it demeaning? Does he see you as less than?

Of course not. Not your Doffy.

“I think I might want to visit home.” You bring it up casually, as you’re tucked against his chest. He’s in his throne, lounging, perfectly relaxed, with you perched on his lap.

He laughs. “Darling, you are home.”

“I know. I mean–I want to visit my home island.”

A miniscule tightening around his eyes. “Why would you want to do that? After everything that they put you through?”

You knew he wouldn’t be keen on the idea. You can’t even figure out why you want to go back, because he’s right: they put you through hell. You were miserable before Doffy got you out of there. Your home had chewed you up and spit you out, and there’s nothing left for you there. It really wasn’t home at all, not anymore. Doffy never liked you referring to it as such.

But a few bad years can’t erase everything it was before the fall. You can remember your childhood, sprinting through the most beautiful flower fields with your friends. Diving into the creek, coming up soaking wet, freezing cold, and feeling freer than you had since. You remember the taste of the pastries at the cafe you used to work at, the same one you met Doflamingo at. In many ways, it was still and would always be home, no matter how long you had been away. No matter what the people there might have done to you.

“I know everything ended terribly, but…”

“But?” A raised brow, a slightly bulging vein on his forehead.

“I still have a lot of good memories from before. Places I miss. People I might be able to forgive, if I saw them again.”

His nostrils flare. His controlled smile finally falls. “Forgive? Darling, they don’t deserve your forgiveness. They don’t even deserve to live in the same world as you, let alone have the privilege of seeing you again. This has been a fun joke and all, but let’s end it here. Going there will only hurt you.” His arm tightens slightly around your waist, hugging you to him protectively.

Possessively, part of your mind whispers.

“It’s been nearly a decade, love. I’ve changed. I’m sure they’ve changed. And…I feel like all of that still hangs over me, sometimes. Even though I’ve tried to let it go. I think going back to see it would help me finally loosen the hold it has over me.”

He doesn’t say no, because you hadn’t been asking for permission. You were simply informing him of your thoughts. He couldn’t make your choices for you. He had never taken away your ability to decide, not once. But somehow his displeasure makes your heart quicken, your stomach churn. When Doffy is displeased, something in you screams that you’ve done something wrong, something you need to fix. You didn’t do anything that he would disagree with, not if you could help it. You always told yourself it was simply because you were partners, that it was natural that you would factor in his opinion.

But how many times had he asked you about his comings and goings? How many times had he told you his plans, instead of just disappearing and reappearing when he decided the time was right?

“You should protect that delicate heart of yours, darling. Who knows what going back would do to it?”

“But I’m different now. Older. Stronger.”

He chuckles, like you’ve told him some silly joke. “But still soft.”

You want to disagree, but there’s something in his tone that makes you feel so horribly small. Weak and vulnerable, some storybook damsel waiting for your prince (or king, in this case) to come sweep you away and fix everything for you. “Do you really think that?”

His eyes narrow slightly at the tone in your voice, the hurt hiding beneath it. His own voice grows softer in turn. “You’re a sensitive soul. It’s one of your best qualities, dear.”

You nod, pushing your face into his neck. You can feel him relax beneath you as you desperately try to stop your thoughts from racing. Are you sensitive, weak, soft? You cannot recall anyone else ever calling you such things. You had been so headstrong when you were young. Perhaps that’s what drove everyone away.

You clutch his shirt tightly, as though tethering yourself to him will simply fix all of this, calm your mind and bring back the peace you used to enjoy. That’s how you got all of this in the first place, really. A strong hand on your back, guiding you away from the burning flames of your old life.

The feeling doesn’t leave. It infuriates you how deeply it’s weaseled its way into you, such a small thing turning over and over and over in your mind. Something so meaningless threatening to pull you apart at the seams. You can feel your edges fraying, feel the way you’re starting to fall apart.

You can still hear Baby 5’s voice whispering in your head. Just like how Doffy looks at you.

For the first time in your life, you intend to keep a secret from your husband. You scribble the messages quickly, shoving the papers back into your desk when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. You know that you aren’t doing anything wrong, but the idea of disappointing him, disagreeing with him, makes you sick to your stomach.

It’s only once you feel his hand on your shoulder, see his pursed lips as he looms over you where you were lost in your work that you remember that the reason you have never kept a secret from your husband is simply because you couldn’t. He knows everything about you, everything that happens under this room, everything happening within the borders of Dressrosa. You never stood a chance.

“Darling…” he doesn’t need to continue. His sigh says enough, sets you on the defensive.

“I never said I wouldn’t send them,” you mutter, a childish anger overtaking you. “And I don’t need your permission.”

His lips set in a thin line. “I never said you did.”

“It’s been nearly a decade. They’ve probably changed. And if they haven’t, then at least I can say I tried.”

His free hand pinches the bridge of his nose as his brow furrows. “Little bird, you’re the only one who ever tried. They never gave you a thing.”

“They gave me plenty.”

“What, then, did they give you? Pain? Suffering? An unending desire to please everyone around you?”

“They gave me plenty, before everything happened.” You can feel your muscles tensing, an unfamiliar anger bubbling up in your chest.

“I can’t recall a single kind thing they ever did for you, my dear.”

“I had a life before you, Doflamingo,” you snap. “Do you really think I’m so helplessly stupid I’d try to reconnect with someone who was nothing but cruel to me? They used to be kind. They used to care about me. Something changed. And if something changes once, it can change again. I’m not some doe-eyed fool begging for a kind touch from a hand that’s only ever bruised me. I’m just going to give them a chance to redeem themselves, or at least explain themselves.” You’re breathing heavily, teeth clenching. You very rarely raise your voice at your husband, but you’re tired of this. Of him looking at you like you’re so defenseless, so pathetic.

There’s a strange look in his eyes when you finish, something you can’t place. He takes his hands off of you, putting them up in surrender. “Of course, dear. I didn’t mean to imply you were incapable. I simply worry about my wife.” There’s an emphasis on his last words, on your title, your role. “But I suppose I shouldn’t presume to know about…your life before me.”

He spits the words like they’re poison in his mouth.

He stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before you realize the situation you’re in. You’re the one keeping secrets. You’re the one who snapped. You’re the one who wouldn’t drop the issue. You, you, you. A part of you screams that he’s the one who pushed you, but aren’t you still the one who jumped?

“...I’m sorry, love, for snapping. I know you worry.”

He doesn’t move.

“I understand why you’re concerned, really. I just…this feels like something I have to do.”

Still nothing.

“If they don’t respond, then I’ll drop it. I just want to take a chance.”

He lets out a breath, before he wraps his arms around you. “Of course, dear.” His grip on you grows a little tighter. “I just can’t help but want to protect you. It’s my job, after all. And I take it very seriously.”

“I know. I appreciate the sentiment, I just wish you trusted me a bit more.”

His voice grows softer. “Oh, dear, of course I trust you. It’s everyone else that I don’t trust.” He chuckles quietly. “Well, if it’s really that important to you, I won’t stand in your way. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

You sigh, burying your nose in his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And so the envelopes are sealed the next day, handed off to a servant to be shipped off.

You keep telling yourself the letters don’t mean anything. Don’t have anything to do with the creeping dread slowly overtaking you. This is simply an act of connection, of potential forgiveness. It has nothing to do with your home life. But you can’t deny the way your eyes keep nervously drifting over each envelope labeled with your name, the disappointment when it never has the return address you were hoping for. Weeks pass, then months.

Whenever he catches you lingering near the mailbox, Doffy always gives you a sympathetic look, a small click of the tongue. “Don’t you see, darling? You expect too much of them. You give people far more credit than they deserve.”

“It’s all the way in the North Blue. Mail can take a while to get there.” You don’t sound convincing, even to your own ears.

He sighs. “I hate seeing you hurt yourself like this, dear.” He approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around you, tucking you tightly against him, rocking you slightly. “Don’t give your attention to those unworthy of it. You have everyone and everything you need right here.”

He’s right. He’s always right.

You wait anyway.

The letters never come.

You expected this, it stings anyway. Even now, they can’t even spare you a thought. Your life was ripped to shreds, and they can’t even give you this. You don’t even exist in their memories anymore. You’re the only one who carries this pain, and you do it alone.

You try to talk to Doffy about it again, and while he plays the doting husband, you can see the satisfaction in his eyes. The pity in his face as he cradles you, the condescending, “Oh, dear, I knew you’d hurt yourself like this. You don’t need them," just screams I told you so. You can only be thankful he doesn’t say it aloud, his smile all teeth as he chuckles and pets your head like some pampered pet.

But he wouldn’t do that. He loves you.

The restlessness you feel doesn’t subside. You’ve taken to wandering aimlessly through the palace, as though you’ll suddenly find the answers hiding around a dusty corner and you’ll find the peace you so desperately crave. You want normalcy again. You want to lay in your husband’s arms and not wonder how much of his softened gaze and gentle caress is a lie, a carefully constructed act meant to keep you where he wants you. You know it isn’t true, really.

But the gnawing continues all the same.

The answers you wished for come in the form of an overfilled trash can.

You occasionally bring snacks to Doflamingo while he’s working. He doesn’t like you being in his office for long, preferring to keep you separated from the messy goings on of his work life, but you can tell he enjoys these small visits. Sometimes, on days when he isn’t busy, he pulls you onto his lap, allowing you to curl into him and enjoy the feeling of safety in his arms as he fills out miscellaneous paperwork or checks over maps. You used to cherish those moments.

Today’s conversation is brief, Doflamingo’s frustration with some issue or another clear in his every action. His teeth are clenched even as he thanks you, even as his lips brush against your temple before you turn to leave. You can’t help the jitteriness you feel, the way his discomfort sends a buzzing through your body. Once he makes it clear you cannot fix the issue (in as gentle of a tone as he’s capable of), you’re ready to make your escape, to hope the nausea subsides once you’re far enough away. You’re so upset you almost miss the envelope in the trashcan next to the door, no writing visible except for the return address.

It’s from a little island in the North Blue, known for its beautiful flower fields.

You can’t help the choked noise that escapes your throat.

“Are you alright?” His eyes glance up from the paper in front of him, the slightest hint of concern behind them.

“What’s this?” Your voice is hardly a whisper. Your hand begins to reach for the trashcan, but you pull it back at the last second. No, it can’t be. And if it is, you don’t want to know.

“What’s what, darling?”

He wouldn’t do this to you. It’s a coincidence. There’s dozens of businesses on the island, many of which might be useful for a king and even more useful for a pirate. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, do this to you.

“This letter.”

Your heart is pounding in your ears, your hands shaking. The only thing that keeps you from exploding is the genuine confusion on his face. “What letter?”

You fish it out of the trashcan, slowly bringing it back to him. It’s covered in spilled ink which has soaked through the paper. It’s clear that the letter inside is ruined, and the only thing you can make out on the front is a street name and the island. “Why was this in the trash?”

He frowns, his brow furrowing. He reaches for it, investigating it so thoroughly you can convince yourself this is the first time he’s seen it. It’s only when his gaze falls to the address that his eyes light up in understanding. “Oh. Oh, dear.”

“Was this for me?”

“I don’t know, dear, but there’s certainly a chance.” His voice is gentle as he reaches for you. “I’m sorry if it was. I don’t know what happened.”

It’s unlike him to apologize. It’s unlike him to admit to not knowing, to not being in absolute control. But god, you want it to be true. You want the comfort he offers. You fall into him, pressing your face into his chest, barely holding back a sob. “What if it was? What if that’s the only response I’ll get, and it’s gone forever? What if my only chance at peace has slipped through my fingers?”

His hands are gentle as they rub circles on your back. “I’ll figure out what happened. I promise whoever did this will be punished, little bird. I’ll never tolerate someone hurting you.” His lips brush against the top of your head, kind and caring and protective, exactly how you’ve always known him to be. “I had others in my office earlier, I’m sure one of them did this. I’ll find out who.”

It takes him nearly an hour to calm you down, but he does it without rushing. All of his work, his empire, set aside for you. How could you doubt him, even for a moment, with your proof of his devotion right here?

He tucks you gently into your shared bed after you calmed down, encouraging you to take a nap to recuperate. A glass of water is left by the bedside for you, and he places an extra blanket on top of you to keep you warm and cozy.

You don’t know how long your nap is. It certainly isn’t long, considering the sun is still in the sky, but it was enough to ease the pounding in your head from the sobbing. You aren’t thinking as you crawl out of bed and begin to wander in the direction of your husband’s office. You’re still a little upset, a little off kilter, and while it may be selfish to interrupt him twice in a day you want to bask in his care a bit more.

An angry voice stops you in your tracks.

“You threw them out?” He sounds furious, his voice booming down the hall. You know you shouldn’t be eavesdropping, should trust your husband to take care of it, but you linger near the door anyway.

“You said to get rid of them!” You don’t recognize the voice, but you recognize the fear. It’s how everyone sounds in front of Doflamingo, faced with his power and grace. With the knowledge he wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he needed to them to get what he wanted.

“Yes, and I expected you to do it right! Burn them, rip them up, whatever it takes! To make sure nobody finds them! Not leave them sitting at the top of a trash can, in my office, where anybody can see them! I’m used to being surrounded by fools, but this is beyond comprehension!” You hear the cracking of wood, and somehow you know he’s broken his desk. As much as you want to stay and hear the rest, the bile rising in your throat forces you away, back to your room, where you can hide under the covers and finally break down.

He had been taking your letters. You knew that, really, but you had so badly wanted to convince yourself otherwise. He had made sure you would never want to go back, simply because he didn’t want you to. He took your choice away. Why was he so desperate to keep you here? What harm was there in you finally letting go of everything that happened?

You had been miserable. You had spent years terrified that Doflamingo would abandon you next, just like your family and friends did. You had clutched him so tightly your knuckles turned white, and he had cooed and assured you he would never leave you, not like they did. “I love you, little bird. You’re mine. It’s my job to protect and care for you, and I intend to do that for the rest of my life.”

Is that how he wanted you? Insecure and desperate to remain at his side? Perhaps he loved you because you were easy. So eager to please, to bend yourself to his will until you nearly snap as long as it keeps him around, keeps anybody around. Maybe he was as desperate as you were, in a way, because it didn’t have to be him you latched onto.

You bite your cheek hard enough to draw blood. No more thoughts like that. It had to be Doflamingo. He was your husband, your family, and nothing can take that away. Not even this betrayal. Surely he thought he was doing what was best for you. He may be selfish, but never when it comes to you.

This was controlling, it was wrong, but it wasn’t cruel. And as loathe as you are to admit it, it wasn’t out of character. He’s always been in control, his entire life. It wouldn’t seem wrong to him for that to extend to some of yours.

You should go in and talk to him. You should figure out why he would do this. Some twisted form of protection? Jealousy? Fear? You should do something, anything, to get to the bottom of this.

You crawl back into bed instead.

You accept his embrace when he joins you. You don’t push him away when he rolls on top of you, whispering how much he loves you, how happy he is that you’re his. You fall asleep in his arms, as you’ve always done.

You spent months begging the universe for answers, for some sort of proof, and now that you’ve gotten it, you’re sticking your head in the sand. What a coward. You can’t even bring yourself to be angry with him. Maybe you’re in shock, or maybe he’s just done such a good job at clipping your wings you simply don’t know what to do without him, and you don’t care to find out. You tell yourself you just love him, trust him. You ignore any whisper in your head that says the contrary.

The days pass normally, as quickly as they always do. You almost feel normal, after a while, have almost convinced yourself that everything is fine, as it’s always been.

The bird at your window is a surprise. It taps hurriedly, almost as though it’s afraid to tarry for too long. The letter tied to its leg somehow isn’t.

The script is hurried and messy. You recognize it immediately. It was written by a boy you had once run through the wild with, one you had shared every step of growing up with. It was his betrayal that had hurt the most.

The letter is nearly impossible to decipher. Your friend always did have terrible handwriting. You used to tease him for how nobody else could figure out what he meant, how sometimes even he couldn’t read his own writing. But you were always good at it, somehow always on the same page as him, no matter how small his chicken scratch was.

I didn’t expect to hear from you ever again. I’m glad I did. I’ve missed you, all of these years. I’ve wondered if you were safe, if you were happy.

I’m sorry for my cowardice. I’m sorry for pushing you away. But I was scared. That pirate made himself very clear: get away from you, or he was going to kill me.

No.

No, no, no.

No, that can’t be right.

I don’t know if he meant it. But with everything else that came after, I suspect he did. I don’t know what he said to your landlord, or your boss, or anyone else. But I know he spoke to them, and I know you were gone soon after. I’m sorry I was never brave enough to tell you in person, or to send you this letter until now. I didn’t know where you went, and I was sure you’d never want to speak to me again anyway.

I’m glad you’re safe, or as safe as you can be. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me. I would be now, if I could. Not that that means much, really.

You place the paper down, shoving your head in your hands. No. This can’t be true. He may be controlling, he may be overprotective, but he would never hurt you. Not like this. Your husband would never have purposefully made you miserable. He would do a lot, but not that.

But you can’t help but remember how perfect his timing was, every time. How he’d gently encouraged you to open up in the days after you realized your friends were ignoring you. How he found you sobbing outside of the cafe after you’d been fired. How he found you idly wandering the streets after your landlord kicked you out. How he found you every time, right on time, assuring you that you didn’t need to worry anymore, that you could just rely on him now. That he always looked after his family, and he would love for you to be a part of it.

You look back on your life together. Had you ever made the choice to be here, or did he simply lure you in with the right bait every time? How many steps had you taken without realizing he was the one leading you here?

You could excuse a lot, deny even more. You can tell yourself again and again that he loved you, that everything he’s done has been for your own good. But hurting you? Hurting the people you loved? Even you couldn’t justify that.

He doesn’t even look up when you walk into his office. He hums quietly in acknowledgement, his pen scratching softly against the page. It’s only when you furiously slam the letter down on his desk that he finally looks at you.

“What’s this, darling?”

“I finally got a response. An intact one.”

He glances down at it, sneering slightly. “Intact? Dear, that’s illegible.”

“Did you threaten my friends for talking to me?”

He’s an excellent liar, a well practiced one. But you’ve known him for a decade, spent hours staring at him, starry eyed, tracking his every move. You can see the slight stiffening of his shoulders, the slight narrowing of his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“How many people have you done this to, Doflamingo?”

He huffs. “None. What are you talking about? Who said this to you?”

“Why do you want to know? So you can make good on your promise to hurt him?” You begin to pace, fury bubbling beneath your skin. “I can’t believe you would do this.”

“I want to know so I can know who you’re believing over your own husband.” He puts on an air of hurt, one that tugs at your heartstrings, but you won’t fall this time.

“I have tried to believe in you again and again, pushing down my doubt because I was so sure my husband would never do anything like this. But the evidence just keeps coming.”

“What evidence, exactly?” He snaps, annoyance slipping through. “The crazed ranting of some jealous old acquaintance? One who hurt you beyond repair a decade ago?”

“The first goddamn letter you tried to get rid of, first off all.” He opens his mouth, but you cut him off. “Don’t try to deny it, I heard you losing your mind on whoever you told to do it. I tried so hard to tell myself you were doing it out of some misguided attempt to protect me, but this proves you just did it to protect yourself. You just didn’t want me to know what you’d done.”

He sighs. “Dear, you’re working yourself up into a frenzy. You couldn’t have heard something that never happened.”

“Don’t lie to me! God, you must think I’m so stupid. You always have. And why wouldn’t you? I’ve fallen for everything, this entire time! I kept telling myself that this was normal, that you loved me, that this was what I wanted. I was so scared of losing you I let you look me in the eye and lie to me every goddamn day.”

“You want the truth?” He’s standing now, walking around the desk that separated you. “Can you handle that, dear? We can’t take back our words.”

You barely suppress the frustrated sob working its way out of your mouth. “Yes, please, give me the truth. That’s all I want.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, the way it always does. God, he has to make this so hard. “I’ll always give you what you want.” He reaches out, but you take a step back. He gives you your space, for now. “When we first met, I may have had a few…long talks with some people you knew. Just to make my intentions clear.”

“How many people?”

“I can’t recall exact numbers.”

“Are you why I lost my job at the cafe?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes.”

“Are you why I got evicted?”

“Yes.”

You curl in on yourself. “God. What the hell? Why would you do this to me?” You can feel your world crashing down as every memory of the last ten years is tainted, rotting from the inside out. It was never real. None of it. “Why would you ruin my life? What did I ever do to you? Why did you pick me up after like some stray dog? Did you feel guilty?”

You expected anger. He was always prone to it, after all. You had expected his tense shoulders and gnashing teeth, a fierce insistence that you were wrong to be upset, to question him. That he was right like always, and that anything he did was simply the best option to some grand end goal you couldn’t see. What you hadn't anticipated was the confusion: the look on his face so lost it was almost childlike. "Ruin your life? You wanted this. I gave you what you wanted."

"You think I wanted–what, to be miserable?”

He has the audacity to look concerned. “Are you miserable? You’re supposed to be happy.”

“Happy? You hurt people! Hurt me!"

He bristles at that. "I never hurt you. You are my wife, my family, my responsibility. I look out for you. I protect you. Those obstacles were–"

"Obstacles? Doflamingo, they were people!”

“They’re nothing compared to you.”

You feel like you’re slamming your head into the wall. What is he not getting? Why does he not seem to think he’s done anything wrong? Why would he hide it if he thought he was right? “Nothing? I–God. What would ever make you think I wanted any of this?"

"You told me yourself!" He says it with such conviction.

You’re about to scream, to run out of this office and into the night, never to be seen again. He must be insane. More than you ever thought possible.

But suddenly you remember it. A small conversation, a month or two after you first met. You didn’t even know his name yet, only knew him as the handsome blond who always tipped well. He had been sipping his coffee slowly, an excuse to keep occupying the table and, in turn, you. His question had seemed so innocent then.

"Do you want to leave this place?"

"What?"

"Are you happy here, I mean. Do you really want to stay here, working yourself to the bone, when you could be living in the lap of luxury?"

You laugh. "I don't know what kind of luxury I could get so easily. Things like that don't just come to people like me. I have bills to pay."

He hums quietly. "But if it could come? Would you really still be here if you had someone to take care of you? If you didn't have to worry about all of this?"

You give a sardonic smile as you wipe down his table. "Mister, you say it like it's so easy. I have things to do, people to help. I couldn't leave them behind just because it'd be better for me."

You can't see them through his sunglasses, but somehow you feel his eyes pierce through you anyway. "But if all of that wasn't a concern? Then you'd want to leave?"

"Sure, in that fantasy world, I'd love to see what the world has to offer. But I live here, in reality, and I have another table glaring at me, so I'll be back in a few minutes."

And that was it. Such a small exchange, barely worth noting.

You never thought much of the conversation. You really didn't. But sitting here, now, you're starting to see it for what it was to him: permission. An invitation to do whatever he thought would get you here. Why wouldn't a pirate act on such an opportunity?

You can barely swallow the bile rising in your throat.

“You couldn’t have possibly–” Your voice catches, and through his frustration you see something almost resembling pity peek through for just a moment. Somehow that’s the most infuriating part of all of this.

“Couldn’t have what? Thought you were being honest? I knew you were, darling. I knew you were meant to be here. I knew you would never have taken the first step with everyone in that shithole holding you down. What was I supposed to do? Leave you there?”

“Yes! That’s exactly what you should have fucking done! You don’t ruin lives over a stupid flight of fucking fancy–”

“Don’t call it that.” There’s that oh so familiar rage. His teeth clenched, his nails digging into his fists, his eyes burning so hot from behind his glasses you can feel the room raise a couple degrees. “Don’t you dare demean what we have. Don’t dismiss the last ten years. You are my wife. My partner. Mine.”

He’s stalking toward you, long past worrying about frightening you.

“Don’t you dare treat my devotion like some schoolboy’s crush.”

You think you would laugh if your heart were not beating out of your chest. Before today, you would have sworn your husband would never hurt you. But now, you don’t know if you can trust anything you think. Not anymore. Clearly you’re an idiot, naive and foolish, incapable of sensing danger even when it’s right in front of you. So when he reaches for you, you flinch.

He has the gall to look hurt. His posture relaxes as he reaches for you again, slower this time. His hands reach to delicately cradle your face, but you pull away, curling in on yourself. “Don’t touch me.”

“Darling–”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me. I’m not your darling. I don’t even know who you are. My entire life is a lie.” You barely manage to hold in a sob. He boxes you in, trying to pull you into his arms, wash away your pain as he always does. You fall to the floor, curling into a ball, desperately trying to avoid him. This familiar softness might break you. “Don’t touch me.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, but he doesn’t back away. “Your life isn’t a lie, little bird. Everything that matters is still true: I’m your husband and I love you.”

“Do you?”

The corner of his eye twitches. “Of course I do. Do you think I would do all of this for anyone? Only for you, my dear. Only you’re worth all of this. I’m sorry for frightening you, but I promise everything I have ever done is for you.” His voice is soft and cautious, as though he’s trying to lure in a wounded animal. You suppose in a way he is.

“What did I do to deserve this?” You pull yourself in tighter, your nails digging into your legs, the pain the only thing grounding you.

“You didn’t have to do anything. You were mine from the moment I saw you.” He says it with a dreamy tone, one that could be easily confused for a normal husband, so deeply in love with his wife. But beneath it there’s an obsession, a depravity to it.

“I don’t want to be yours.” The pitiful protest of a child, weak and wavering.

“Oh, darling, you don’t mean that.” He bends down to look you in the eye, put himself on your level. The condescension sets your teeth on edge. “I know you’re upset, dear, but you shouldn’t say things like that. A lesser man would be hurt.”

“A better man would believe me.”

You see the flash of rage that he swallows down before he opens his mouth again. “You’re lucky I’m patient, lover. Who knows what would happen if I took these little provocations seriously.”

“You never take me seriously.” So much of your life spent under the thumb of a man who didn’t even trust you to choose him yourself. Who didn’t trust you to choose a life together.

“You’re clearly overwhelmed. Take a minute to collect yourself.”

He didn’t disagree. So many lies for so many years, but he can’t give you the one you really want to hear.

“I want to go home.” Your voice is so pathetic, so broken.

“You are home.” His voice is gentle, but firm. A statement, a command beneath it. He leaves no room for disagreement.

“No. No, I’m not.” You close your eyes, picturing fields of your childhood. The smell of the flowers, the feeling of the sunlight on your face. The last time you had truly been free.

“You’re home, and you aren’t leaving.”

You feel yourself being pulled forward, your arms moving of their own volition.

No, not their own.

His.

His strings force your arms around him as he engulfs you in a suffocating embrace. His voice is no less sickeningly adoring than it was before. "Do what you want to me, darling. Hate me, fear me, hurt me. Rip me to shreds with your own two hands if you wish. But don't you dare leave me. You can do whatever you want as long as you're home safe."

Your voice trembles as you whisper, "And what if I wanted to leave?"

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, the condescending amusement of someone hearing a child wish for the impossible. "You don't. If you wanted to leave, you wouldn't have come here. Wouldn't have confronted me. Hell, you would have left the moment you found that first letter. Face it, little bird, you chose your cage. You love it here."

"But if I really wanted to?"

He smiles, all teeth. "Then I'd find you and bring you home.”

When he leans down to kiss you, you don’t have the energy to pull away. You can’t even feel afraid anymore as a deep sense of resignation washes over you. Ten years. Ten years of your life, gone if you leave. Your past burned under Doflamingo’s watchful eye, ensuring you have nowhere to return. Where else can you rest except your marriage bed?

It is that same bed he carries you to now, as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. The same bed where he takes you, as he has all these years. The same bed you’re pinned to, weighed down by an arm thrown across your waist. Despite everything, despite the fear and rage choking you, the feeling is somehow comforting.

Neither of you speak of it the next morning. What is there to say, really?

Your life is perfect. Your husband has made it so.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x reader #x reader #doflamingo x y/n #one piece #op

380 notes · View notes

vermillyons · 2 months ago

Text

doflamingo x reader fic where there's an epic divorce arc with a body count.

#maybe if i daydream about it hard enough someone else will write it #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo.posting #post.talk

16 notes · View notes

physics-of-one-piece · 3 months ago

Text

Merlot & Primroses Excerpt (Doflamingo x Reader)

A/N: Haven't been sending Red Suit Doffy x Rosi's Wife!Reader a lot cus of the editing of North Blue Doffy clips but... Here's a little something... One of what I think is a pretty important dialogue scene in the fic. I think it deserves to be shared.

“I thought… that finally, my father would say something strong.” Doflamingo chuckled, and you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. “Something that would mean I don’t have to do it. Do you know what my father said?”

“I’m sorry you had me as a father.” Doflamingo smiled, but it was empty and crooked. “Those were his last words to me and Rosi.”

“He gave up. My own father, who was supposed to be strong, who was supposed to lead and protect us, chose to be weak even with my gun pointed at his head! He accepted death rather than fight!”

“If Rosi was really strong, he would have pulled that trigger!” Doflamingo yelled at you. “He chose death! He chose death and he chose to leave you!”

“It’s because of my father’s weakness that mother died, and it’s because of Rosi’s weakness you’re here now! Rosinante failed you just like my father failed my mother!”

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @moonbaby26 (I think you might like this) @daydreamer-in-training @dummyduck44 @queenmimi2817

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo #doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #op doflamingo #one piece #op doffy

61 notes · View notes

worstscholar · 3 months ago

Text

Dancing with The Devil 🔞

This had an alternate title, Not like in the Movies, but I thought this one was better.

Pairing - Doflamingo x FTM Reader TW - Princess used once, good boy, pretty boy, pussy, cunt, slut, brat, kid, cross dressing, implied feminization from doflamingo

Description - All of these eyes on you, people who know you in passing, you think. Your face burns bright red, but it's not from the exertion, you're not sure you've ever felt this horny in your life.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

The streets are fairly empty at this time of day, it's early morning and the sun has just started to rise. If people aren't already awake, they’re waking up now. There’s a group of boys gathered around a bus stop at the corner, the few who were lucky enough to sit on the bench are completely passed out, while the rest that were left standing are engaged in lazy conversation, trying to keep themselves from falling asleep standing.

The boys perk up as you run past, the few who recognize you whistle and catcall, before turning to their friends to point and laugh. If you had any time, you’d gladly kick those grins off their faces, but you’re incredibly late already and don't want to incur the wrath of Doflamingo, who’d given you strict instructions to meet him at a catholic church near where he lived. You’ve always prided yourself on being able to get out of any situation you put your mind to, no matter what it was, or who was involved. But any time that perverted bastard Doflamingo was involved, your brains turned to mush and you always ended up entertaining whatever stupid perverted thing he wanted to try.

Today, Doflamingo barged into your apartment bright and early with no warning. He had been brash and impatient as always, but today it felt different, like he wasn’t telling you something. He didn't let you question him, Doflamingo never has the patience for that, and you suppose you should have learned that by now, but you’re known to be brash as well.

You didn't know the full extent as to what you agreed to before he left. When your door slammed shut and you were finally alone with this stupid outfit, you realized that the dumb asshole was going to make you walk to some church you’ve never been to in your life while wearing a girls school uniform. You spent the first hour with your mind made up that you weren't going to go and you were just going to stand him up, but when he called you all angry and mean-sounding, your mouth grew a mind of its own and lied, digging you further into your mess by telling him you were almost there.

Thankfully Doflamingo didn't replace the uniform skirt with anything shorter, but that didn't mean it was any less embarrassing. The skirt stopped only a few inches above your knee length socks, but the skirt wasn't the end. The blouse was purposefully missing a few of the top buttons, leaving your collarbone and some of your chest exposed. As tame as it was, leaving the house dressed as a girl made you feel like some kind of slut. This was unbelievable, you’d never be caught dead doing something like this on your own, but there's something about Doflamingo that always makes you want to do anything he asks no matter how embarrassing.

All of these eyes on you, people who know you in passing, you think. Your face burns bright red, but it's not from the exertion, you're not sure you've ever felt this horny in your life. You’ve worn plenty of womens underwear before, sometimes even out in public with it hidden under your usual clothes, but that feeling doesn't compare to this. Crossdressing in public is a whole new thrill you think you’ve already become addicted to.

With how much you’ve been leaking, you’re sure that your panties are completely soaked, the slick smearing on the insides of your thighs and making a bigger mess as you run. You can't think about that though, as the church you were supposed to be at hours ago starts coming into view. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be any cars in the parking lot, meaning you and Doflamingo would be alone. But knowing him, you’re sure he's got to be planning something.

As you get closer the heavy feeling in your chest worsens and once you reach the steps of the church, you stumble to a halt. Something doesn't feel right about this place, Doflamingo’s car isn't anywhere around. If you were any dumber, you’d think Doflamingo got pissed and left, maybe he went back to your place and was waiting there for you- CRACK!- your head snaps up as the wood sign sat out on the top of the stairs snaps shut by itself and tumbles down the steps, narrowly missing your feet as it falls face first onto the gravel. Written on the back of the sign, in big, bold letters, read; Took you long enough. An electric chill runs up your spine- what the fuck? You look around but find no one, except an intense feeling of someone watching you.

Doffy must be playing with you- you reason, trying to get your anxiety to calm down, but no matter how many times you tell yourself it's that asshole, you only get more and more anxious. You take one last look around before hesitantly pushing forward. The first few steps are agony, it feels like any second you’ll drop dead from a heart attack, but you don't, and you make it to the top of the stairs.

You reach for the door but pause, only inches away from the handle when the door thunks before slowly creaking open on its own. What are the odds that this church is haunted, you try laughing off your nervousness and peek your head in to see if Doffy was around. There's nobody, the church is empty. You take a tentative step forward, the toe of your shoe barely crossing into the church- but you stop. There's a warm breath on your neck, chills run up your entire body, and your heart thumps up into your throat.

Ever so slowly you turn, praying to yourself that there's no one there. There is- as soon as your brain processes that there's someone standing behind you, towering over you, you screech and jump into the church only to slip and fall on your ass. Fuck- you’re one of those horror movie bimbos, you’re gonna die- you dont want to die. You sit on the floor with your eyes squeezed shut, bracing for the pain you’re sure was coming, but nothing happens. As you start to slowly open your eyes, you hear the recognizable, obnoxious laughter of Doflamingo.

Once you realize who it is, your eyes fly open and you gawk up at him- WHO THE HELL DOES THIS GUY THINK HE IS!? Your brows furrow, and before he can take his next breath, you jump to your feet and slap his arm, “What the hell is wrong with you, asshole?!” You exclaim, sounding a little out of breath. Your hands are shaky and your heart feels like it's trying to beat out of your chest, but thankfully it was just him.

Doflamingo snorts and rubs his arm where you hit him, you aren't sure if your slap actually hurt, or if he's just messing with you, and you can't find it in yourself to give the action any more thought. “Don't laugh, you almost gave me a heart attack! There’s seriously something wrong with you.” Anger replaces the fear in your body, bubbling up in your chest along with embarrassment that puts color in your cheeks. You hit him again, this time by punching his side a little harder than the first and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He reaches out and grabs your wrist, before you could fully retract it. “What’s wrong with me, huh?” He grins, all teeth and dangerous. You can't see his eyes from behind his glasses, but his brows are furrowed and he looks annoyed. Shit, this is worse than ghosts or murderers- the anger in your chest drains, only for the hole it leaves to once again fill with fear. “What’s wrong with you?” He leans down, his grin morphing into a sneer, “I- I don't know what you mean…” You stutter pathetically, only for him to cut you off by leaning in, leveling your eyes.

His breath smells like mint and something else you can’t place, “-Thought you stood me up, brat.” He growls and stands back up, using his grip on your wrist to drag you further into the church. You don't register the door falling shut, too preoccupied in scrambling after Doflamingo, so his tight grip on your wrist won't break your arm. Once close enough to the row of pews closest to the door, he shoves you down on it, splaying you down along the length of the bench.

“You think it's funny? Huh?” Doflamingo glares down at you, but you catch his eyes trailing over your clothes, his gaze turning hungry. The attention is overwhelming, and unconsciously you close your legs and pull the skirt down further, only for Doflamingo to lean in close and grab your wrist, “I thought I told you not to waste my time, stupid brat.” He sneers, breath hot on the side of your face as he moves your arms away from your skirt and over your head.

He easily keeps your wrists pinned with one hand, the sheer difference in sizes alone gets you salivating- you can't do this, he's too much- this is too much, your voice feels caught in your throat, unable to talk back, to fight him. “You’ve made me wait long enough.” He grunts, trying to keep you in place despite the awkward position he’s at. “You got a deathwish, brat?” He lets go of your wrists, but your relief doesn't last, when he lifts you up.

You yelp and squirm in his hold, but he doesn't let go, instead, he sits on the pew and sets you on his lap. The new position makes it harder to close your thighs, and Doflamingo has more access to your face, which he takes advantage of and leans down closer to kiss you. “Let go- bastard.” Your face burns red when his lips plant on your cheek instead of where he was aiming, and no matter how hard you squirm, you can't get out of his hold.

Getting out doesn't matter though, you didn't want to leave, you never wanted to get off his lap.Doflamingo seems to recognize this immediately and grins against your cheek, before indulging you and trailing hot kisses to your jaw, your pussy throbs and all of your anger drains immediately. Damn- you forgot how horny you were, Doflamingo nips your earlobe, and your hips jerk to life, rubbing your cunt against the bulge in his disgustingly white slacks. Doflamingo’s teasing falters when he realizes what you’re up to, he pauses and looks down, you try to stop, but it's too late. He bursts out laughing and lets go of your wrists so he can hold your hips with both of his hands.

“You’re such a slutty little brat.” He snickers, looking delighted as his hands pull your hips back and forth over his bulge, “That really all it took, kid?” He leans in, licking up your earlobe, just to see you shiver. Once you do, you’re rewarded by Doflamingo kissing down your neck, and then all of the way back up to your ear. It’s an odd display of tenderness, Doflamingo kisses over your ear, the act itself is enough to send a shiver down your spine, but he doesn't stop there. Doflamingo persists, kissing all of the way across the length of your ear to get to the back of it, where he latches onto the soft skin of your neck, right under your earlobe, and sucks a hickey into the skin there.

You short circuit- what the fuck, what the fuck did he do that for? A strained whimper escapes your throat and you feel him grin against your neck before you hear his chuckle. “Thought i was gonna have to take what i wanted by force, looks like you’ll just hand it to me, won't you, Princess?” You flinch at the nickname, hating the way it made your stomach flutter, before the rest of what he said settles into your mind. Take what he wanted by force? Your face goes crimson and your cunt throbs heavily, the thought of Doflamingo bending you over the pew, or shoving you onto the floor and fucking into you like an animal, clouds your mind.

Doflamingo chuckles again, “You like that, huh brat.” You stiffen up, but Doflamingo keeps pulling your hips, rubbing your cunt up against his slacks. “I can feel your cunt throb, don't even think about trying to lie to me.” You shiver and your hole tightens up in response, one of his hands part from your hip and he trails his fingers lightly down your thigh, tracing the bend of your knee to where your skirt ends. He grabs the hem and wrestles with your legs to get it pushed up to your hips, exposing the black lace panties you’d put on. Doflamingo groans, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest, he didn't even ask you to wear underwear, you had done this of your own volition and the pervert couldn't be happier. “Such a good boy, you think about me when you put these on?” He forces you to look up at him as he tucks the front of your skirt into its waistband to keep it from falling, “You like wearing panties, pretty boy?” He grins wide, showing off the points of his teeth, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from you.

When you don't answer immediately Doflamingo frowns, “Did you not hear me right? I asked you a question.” He furrows his brows and watches you from behind his annoying glasses. You hesitate and purse your lips, if you answered, maybe he’d go easier on you, but it didn't mean you weren't embarrassed. “Yeah-” Your voice cracks and comes out too breathy for your liking, but there's no going back now. “Yeah, I like wearing panties.” You finish pathetically, Doflamingo’s frown turns back to a wide grin as he chuckles.

“That's what I thought, brat.” He lets go of the skirt and before you could take your next breath, Doflamingo’s thumb runs up the center of your panties. You keen and your hips lurch forward almost violently, he doesn't let you breathe, much less recover before he's doing it again, putting more pressure when he drags the pad of his thumb up the seam of your cunt. You whine and fuck your clit up against his thumb, but your writhing is useless because he pulls away before you can do anything. He laughs at the pathetic expression on your face and brings his hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb slides along your lips, asking- telling you to open up. You do, and he slides his thumb past your lips, pressing down on your tongue, hard enough to get your eyelids fluttering and your hips grinding against him.

“Such a desperate little slut, huh?” He grins sadistically while pushing his thumb further back into your mouth. The pressure moving to the back of your tongue makes you gag, but he keeps it up, liking the faces you make. “Look at you, I could do anything to you and you’d get off on it.” He leers down at you and licks his lips, “I bet you’re just dying to get my cock, huh brat.” His thumb sits, almost at the back of your throat, paused and light, caressing the center of your tongue like he was waiting for you to answer him.

Your pussy throbs, hole clenching around the idea of him, it spurs you to nod, and his grin widens, “Yesh” You slur around his thumb, he falters, you catch his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows before tutting. “You should really know better than to talk with your mouth full.” He chides, fishing to get you glowering at him. “Such a mean thing, too bad you’re so pretty. Maybe I really should teach you your manners.” His thumb glides further, pushing as far back into your throat as it can. He works you through another gag, his cock twitching under you at the complacent look that takes over your face, and when you inevitably start drooling around his thumb, “That's it, make a mess brat. I'll just make you clean it up later-” You shudder at his words, and his other hand forces you to keep rocking against him.

Your lashes flutter, and your eyes roll back into your head,giving into his urging easily. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, and your head falls against his shoulder, making him chuckle, “So needy for it, maybe I should just let you take what you want, hm?” He tilts his head, staring at you from behind his frames, “Make you work for it.” You turn your face into his neck, lips puckering to press a ghost of a kiss against his skin, just as his mouth opens to say something, the doors to the church creak open loudly, you jump up off his lap, worming out of his grip to dash from the church. You bump shoulders with a shocked graying man, nearly knocking him down the stairs in your haste, but the only thought in your head was getting out of there.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

2,892 Words

Published on AO3

I'm currently looking for beta readers. If you're interested, please message me. Thank you.

#Donquixote Doflamingo #Doflamingo #Doffy #donquixote doflamingo x male reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x male reader #doflamingo x reader #doffy x male reader #doffy x reader

30 notes · View notes

officialstrawhat · 4 months ago

Text

I made this playlist to go with my Rose of Dressrosa fic. I usually just listen to it when I’m writing 🤗 hope it gives you the same vibes I get when I think of this story

#one piece x reader #romance #trafalgar law x reader #angst #donquixote doflamingo x reader #fem!reader #Spotify

5 notes · View notes

thus-spoke-lo · 4 months ago

Text

The Perfect Drug // Doflamingo Donquixote x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kinks: Drugging + Non-Con

CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; non-consensual drugging [drug gives reader escalating degrees of sex pollen/'fuck or die' type symptoms + behaviors], extremely dubcon/noncon sexual acts as a result; shoe-humping; brief daddy kink mention [title used]; exhibitionism; vaginal sex; masturbation [m]; degradation/humiliation; restraints [reader receiving - devil fruit usage]; doflamingo is his own content warning™ WC: 1.4k // Fictober Masterlist

Clear. Tasteless. Odorless. As plain as water, as dangerous as poison. Everything exactly as promised from the finest chemist money and violence could buy.

It was never certain exactly when Doflamingo would administer his little tincture, never certain which food, which drink would settle in your stomach and start to make you woozy, make the world start to feel slightly askew, like you were standing just outside yourself to observe how how painfully desperate you must look, clawing and panting and begging for him to take you where you stood. Days would go by, even sometimes weeks, between doses, just long enough for you to finally let your guard down and feel safe once more in your own body…and then it would happen again. It was all part of the fun for your heavenly demon—seeing you unravel more and more every day, vacillating between begging him to stop and begging him to keep you dosed all the time just to allow you some semblance of consistency.

Most of the time, Doflamingo likes to keep you coherent, teetering on the precipice of intoxication—he doses you just enough to make you even more soft and pliable than you are for him on your own. It makes your limbs looser, skin warmer, cunt even wetter than normal; it is you, still you, but with the volume turned up. It makes you sensitive to the touch, even the lightest stroke of his long fingers lighting you ablaze, making you suck in air through your teeth as your hips roll greedily against him. It makes you easy to overstimulate, and the sound of your pained cries as he grips your hips and pulls your dripping cunt against his mouth, burying his long tongue deep inside you, sucking at your swollen clit, dragging his teeth against it, are exquisite.

Sometimes, Doflamingo likes to make you debase yourself for him—he adds enough drops of the tincture in your tea that he knows will still give you the illusion of control, even as shame courses through your body when it seems to move of its own accord, seeking relief any way possible. How he loves it when you interrupt his meetings, climbing into his lap to whine and babble something barely coherent about how wet you are, how much you need him this instant. He laughs at how pathetic you look, the way you settle in and press your back to his chest, spreading your legs open wide and grabbing his wrist, guiding it to your heated core, not seeming to care that the others at the table are staring at your drooling cunt. You’re suggestible in this state, making it easy to guide you towards debasement that would otherwise take a little more cajoling, a few more threats, a bit more pain.

It’s when he has you like this that you’re whining to be spanked over his knee while he’s on the phone, not caring that the person on the other end can hear your perverse cries of pleasure with every slap. Like this, you’re begging for him during meetings with government men, slurring something about how bad you need daddy’s cock, sobbing into his chest when he tells you get on the floor and grind against his loafer instead if you’re so needy. And you do as you’re told (such a compliant little thing, he’ll call you), mumbling how disgusting you are as he guides your hand to his cock. He keeps conversation in between groans while you jerk him off, matching the movements of your hand to the greedy rocking of your hips against his shoe, coating your arm and face with ropes of his spend while you convulse in pleasure on your knees.

And there are other times—far, far less often, a special treat to be enjoyed like a rare wine or a rich dessert—that he likes to keep you wholly intoxicated, so drugged-out that you lose yourself wholly to your basest urges, forget yourself so completely that you seem only to be a vessel for pleasure. This much of it turns you an utter mess, your veins flowing with a want so violent, so awful, that it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside, like you’ll die writhing and screaming without his touch, without the relief that only he can grant you.

At times he’ll let you be free to see just what you’ll do on your own before he takes you, sits back and strokes himself while you seek relief with a pillow between your legs, rubbing yourself raw on the sheets when no amount of orgasms will satisfy the want. Eventually you’re crawling to him on hands and sore knees to beg for him, kneel at his feet in supplication, pray that your god can grant you mercy and take away the unyielding pain that inflames you.

But he most loves the way you look laid bare on the bed, your wrists and ankles bound with his string. The way you thrash and pull at your bindings until you’re nearly bloody, the way you desperately hump the air, trying to rub your aching cunt on nothing, crying and sobbing that it hurts, it hurts so much being this empty, being this hungry for touch. It has him hard and pulsing the way you’re barely intelligible between gasping breaths, whining and sobbing to that please, please, you need him, you need him so badly or you’ll die.

He stands over the bed as you stretch and heave your bound body towards him, straining your muscles until they shake. He makes you watch while he strokes himself, showing you the sticky strings of precum that drip from his swollen tip, and you stick your tongue out, despite not being anywhere close to him. He calls you pathetic, calls you revolting, calls you a needy little whore, and you only nod with more and more vigor at every degrading word. He’ll deny you when it pleases him, watch as the hope drains from your eyes as he finishes himself off with a long, low groan and spills himself onto the sheets, just out of reach. You reach your limit, drool and tears dripping from your face as you beg to be forgiven, to be granted mercy for whatever transgressions you committed that would make him do something like this to you.

But when he deigns to give you relief, to bring you back from the precipice of something that feels like certain death, it’s utterly euphoric. The drug, at this potency, passes on its effects to him through your sweat, your spit, your slick; it’s less effective on him at his size, but it still packs a punch. His lungs are invaded with your scent, the intoxicating smell of your prolonged arousal. He keeps you bound still at first, adjusts your position with a quick movement of his fingers, spreads your legs wide and tilts your lower half up to meet him, before he invades you. It’s not long before he loses himself in you and your bindings release, and finally you can have your fingers on him, feel the slick of sweat covering his skin, taste the salt of him, entwine your tongue with his until you’re nearly being choked.

The two of you remain enmeshed, a writhing, panting heap of sweat-slicked limbs, until the high wears off. Doflamingo thinks you’re perfect when you’re so broken afterwards, body bruised and sore, your cervix aching, his spend leaking out of your twitching cunt. You cling to him, throat hoarse from sobbing and screaming his name, softly apologizing for the way you must have behaved—you can only imagine it, your mind scrubbed of memories except for occasional flashes of his ominous grin. He never lets you self-flagellate for long, simply coos your name over and over, tells you what a good little pet you’ve been for him. He bathes you, treats your wounds, dresses you in silks and softness and climbs back into bed with you, assures you that all is okay.

Doflamingo will tend to you as he always does, tuck you up with him and convince you that you’re safe, that he would never so anything to bring you harm. And he’ll hand you a glass of water and tell you to drink up, you need to be hydrated after such an ordeal. And you’ll forgot, for a moment, that it’s clear. Tasteless. Odorless. At least until you feel your limbs tingle and your chest tighten, and you hear the low chuckle rumbling in his ribcage.

Your distress is as addictive as a drug, and he’s not yet reached the peak of his high.

#happy bday to the sadistic flamingo man #lo writes #lo's fictober #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece x reader #cw noncon #cw drugging

90 notes · View notes

oxymorayuri · 5 months ago

Note

i love your style, can i request a one shot hurt/comfort with doflamingo please 💖💖💖 i would also love if you did with rest of the characters too, thank you so much ✨💖💖

A/N: Hello my dear, thank you for waiting :3 Let's start with our pink feathered guy. I struggled hard with myself whether to finish the other guys first, to upload and link everything together but I couldn't help it… :x So please be patient until I have finished the others :3 [Law ✦ Kid ✦ Ace]

word count » 3857 genre » hurt | comfort | angst summary » Lately, Doflamingo has been doing only his own thing… You hardly see each other. He rarely takes you to parties and generally doesn't take you out anymore…

❝ 𝐻𝑖�� 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑚𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒❞

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: gremlik

𝐷𝑜𝑛𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑥𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝐷𝑜𝑓𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑜

It's a morning like any other. Waking up in the huge bed between expensive pillows and covers made of silk. The early sun beams in through the large windows and as your eyes fight against the morning fatigue, you feel with one hand the side where Doflamingo is lying only to realize that he is no longer lying next to you. Again...

You should be used to it, but you leave the cozy bed pouting and slip into your slippers.

"He seems to be quite busy once again…" You mutter to yourself unsatisfied in front of your dressing table while you clean your face. You're not even sure if he spent the night in bed with you.

Maybe he has a new woman?

No, he would have dumped you long ago if he did. You put on the necklace, the last gift he gave you, and gently stroke the gemstones.

Doflamingo has an extraordinary taste and every piece of jewelry is the perfect accessory for your fine appearance. You don't miss the jewels, you miss the effort he made to find jewelry that complements your beauty.

You reminisce as the sunlight shines through the expensive designed room.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"Look at me beautiful, the moment I saw those jewels, I thought I was looking into your pristine eyes." He gently guides your chin upwards and studies your shining eyes.

"I tend to believe that your eyes are real gems, but you can't put a price on them."

With his thumb, he gently strokes under your eye and holds the side of your face. You lean into his touch and place your small hand against his, not wanting him to let go of you.

“You don't have to pay, my eyes are yours alone...”

He smirks at you with satisfaction. He likes to hear that you belong only to him. And he will do everything to make sure you give him everything you have...

“You belong by my side.” His lips brush gently over yours as he speaks such firm yet loving words. A smile slips from your lips and you wrap your arms around him to kiss his lips.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Those were the days when you spent time together in the palace garden as if you had just fallen in love. Just the two of you, sometimes all day. Not even work could distract him when he wanted to spend time with his precious girl.

Such days started with Doflamingo watching you sleep until you woke up and not leaving the bed before your lips met. And now? Now you wake up every morning, alone…

You feel like you've been thrown to the side.

In a bad mood, you get ready for breakfast with the family. You strut down the long corridor, your heels echoing in the heights of the palace.

You have deliberately chosen to wear a short pink dress combined with a matching fur coat that Doflamingo gave you. This will definitely bring out a reaction in him.

The massive doors open to the dining room and you enter the hall. A few of Doflamingo's people have already taken their seats. Luckily for you, you discover Baby 5 sitting in her chair.

"Good morning, lady y/n!" Beaming with joy, she waves to you. Without giving it much thought, you take the chair next to her and have a chat with her as the empty seats at the table fill up.

Your cheerful banter is interrupted by Buffalo speaking up.

“L-Lady y/n?…” He stammers a little uncertainly with reddened cheeks.

“Why are you sitting in my chair?” - “Huh? Ohh, I just wanted to sit next to Baby 5 today.” You smile at him with your irresistible lips. He immediately turns bright red like a tomato, since your body language is as seductive as it is beautiful. His awkward behavior makes you chuckle a little.

"Feel free to take my seat, Buffalo." you say gracefully as you turn away from him to continue chatting with Baby 5.

The hall falls silent for a moment as Doflamingo finally enters the room and you wonder where he was, when he was neither at breakfast nor in bed with you…

You grind your teeth in anger and Baby 5 notices your grumbling. Concerned, she gives you a little nudge with her elbow and looks at you with friendly eyes.

"Lady y/n, what's wrong?" - “I'll tell you later…” You say in a composed voice while your eyes follow Doflamingo. After Doflamingo takes his seat at the short end of the table, he looks at Buffalo sitting next to him at the side.

While Buffalo looks at him somewhat uncertainly, Doflamingo looks down at him rather coldly. His gaze goes straight to the seat where Buffalo is normally sitting, seeing you but there is no trace of any emotion on his face.

You swallow a little as you consider whether it was such a good idea to swap chairs. But you quickly dismiss any doubts on the grounds, that he doesn't pay much attention to you either. Why should you play his little darling?

With a little huff, you turn your eyes away from him and talk to a few people at the table.

Nevertheless, breakfast was quite pleasant up to a certain point… With one ear you followed the conversation between Doflamingo and Trebol, as they talked about a small banquet with his underground customers.

Your ears perked up when it came to who would be accompanying him. Normally you would stand by his side at such events...

Ohh, how you miss the times when you two were admired from all the sides, while dancing or socializing together...

Doflamingo not only likes to have you by his side, but also likes to involve you in important conversations. Of course, such parties are not just for entertainment, they are the perfect place to put things into motion...

Whenever one of his business partners brought up suggestions or ideas, he always asked for your opinion. Besides your beauty, your sharp mind arouses him.

And you? You feel strong at his side...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

"What do you think, beautiful?"

He leans slightly towards you and examines your brooding face with a broad grin. With a finger on your lip, you smile seductively at him as his sly smile comes into your field of vision.

You turn your head to the gentleman in front of you.

"You know, you're asking for a lot of money from us investors for such cheap material…" Your eyes, usually so seductive, look down at him with hostile confidence.

The man starts to explain himself, stammering and beads of sweat gather on his forehead.

“I don't need to have another conversation with you, we'll decline and I'll remember this stupid talk and check out the other deals we have…”

His offer was not unusual, but you wonder why Doflamingo should invest so much in him again, when the other projects are running well...

Doflamingo's laughter echoes beside you. He is always amazed at your sharp tongue and proudly pulls you towards him.

"How about we just cut all the deals? This guy is cheeky and greedy, a real snake." - “That would make it a lot easier.” You smile lovingly at Doflamingo.

Together you leave the frantic gentleman behind, without even responding to his pathetic pleas.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Violet will accompany me again.” His words make you freeze and you look at him with narrowed eyebrows.

She's going to accompany him again?

You clench your fists under the table and look over at Violet, who glances a little anxiously into your eyes.

You try to think clearly, Violet is not someone who would betray you. She's your friend, but you have to confront her.

After breakfast, you catch her in front of her room and question why she's his date and, more importantly, why she didn't tell you!

“I'm sorry y/n but I wasn't allowed to tell you anything, he's still the king…” With guilt covered eyes she begs for forgiveness and with a deep sigh you cave in.

“I forgive you… Actually, I'm glad you're accompanying him and not some other girl." You let your arms hang down in frustration.

"Believe me when I say, that he doesn't even pay any attention to me... I don't even know why I have to accompany him."

She pouts a little and you giggle in response. She doesn't seem to enjoy being by his side so much and even though you feel sorry for her, you're glad it's the opposite for you.

Your mind is made up, you have to confront him. According to Violet, he's down by the pool, so you go back to your shared bedroom and put on something exciting.

With your feminine hips swinging, you show up at the pool in a sheer beach robe, only to see a couple of cheap sluts from Senor Pink clinging to Doflamingo.

You freeze in the middle of your walk and watch the spectacle of the girls dressed in their bikinis, fussing over him and fondling his chest... Even though Doflamingo seems to ignore them, it drives you crazy that he lets them touch him like that.

Angrily, you stomp over to them. With your hands on your hips, you stand in front of Doflamingo, who is lounging in the sun and enjoying a drink. He turns his gaze to you, his attitude towards you is rather indifferent and that makes you feel confused. Why is he behaving like this?

“And... are you enjoying the sun, Doffy?” The words come from your lips more mockingly than being a genuine question.

The girls giggle outrageously but you don't really know what's so funny… you just try to ignore them completely.

Somewhat annoyed, Doflamingo straightens up and pushes the ladies away from him.

“Fufufu ... you're acting quite sassy considering your position, aren't you?"

Position? His words make you angry.

“My feelings are neither a position nor a status in this castle. I thought we shared feelings, but the way you're behaving, I seem to be the only one who cares!” You turn your gaze away from him, tears already threatening to well up in your eyes.

“How I behave?” His voice takes on a threatening tone, a tone that you are familiar with but which has never been directed at you.

You gulp a little as he towers over you, drawing a sickening laugh from Doflamingo.

“Yes, the way you behave. You're dismissive, always gone and now? Now you're letting yourself be touched by these cheap whores…" You look hurt yet disgusted and Senior Pink's girls hiss and spit insults at you. But they don't interest you much and your gaze is fixed on your reflection in Doflamingo's sunglasses.

“Fufufu - look at you beautiful. Do you miss me?”

He runs his fingers through your silky hair, as always, but it feels wrong. There's something nasty about his aura. It's not his usual sly demeanor that he shows you and which you love, he doesn't take you seriously... and he's playing with you...

But you don't allow yourself to be bullied. Your eyes are fixed on his, at least wherever you guess his eyes are, without letting your unease become obvious.

“And what if that were the case?”

His hand glides along your shoulder over to your little neck, where his thumb presses lightly against your throat, before forcing you towards him. As the tips of your noses touch, you see the faint outline of his pupils but you remain calm and composed.

"I couldn't care less. Not after what you have done!" He squeezes and cuts off the air you breathe.

You reach for his hand in a panic, but you can't even move a finger. You are far from physically strong and you feel yourself losing your footing as Doflamingo lifts you into the air.

"…What I did?!" puzzled, you try to push the words from your lips.

Doflamingo throws you on the floor, his eyes wander over your exposed body and instead of being attracted to you, the arousing sight of you makes him mad.

“The way you act towards others, the way you dress… I would have expected more elegance from you!” You don't understand a thing. How I look and behave? But you thought that was the most important things for him?

“You're crazy!” You snap at him and grit your teeth. Doflamingo crouches down to you and laughs over you.

“Me and crazy? Fufufufu…” He shakes his head and grabs you by the chin. His lips brush gently over yours but you don't feel love, you feel fear.

“I'm rather generous towards you…” Tears well up in your eyes, he has never treated you so worthlessly. He has treasured you like his most valued possession and now he grumbles words you don't understand.

Doflamingo's eyes flicker briefly, and his chest tightens as he sees the tears rolling down your cheeks. Irritated, he lets go of you and steps away, giving you the chance to escape. What remains is a blonde king who suddenly doesn't understand what he's feeling.

Is it remorse?

But you don't have time to pay him any attention and run away. On the way to your bedchamber, you bump into some of the family, who all seem quite worried when they see your sad expression.

But no matter what they say to you, you just keep running while hot tears flow down your cheeks.

You cry yourself a river on the bed, your makeup all smudged but you don't care about messing up the expensive sheets. They have no value to you if you don't share them with Doflamingo.

All you can hear is the door to the room closing with a bang and the clacking of Doflamingo's shoes coming closer to you… You look at him briefly, but his cold, unaffected gaze makes you feel completely worthless. How can he look at you like that?

“You look pathetic.” His words are dry and pierce through your heart. You can imagine that you don't look very presentable. Your clothes are out of place, your hair is messy and your makeup is smudged all over your teary face

You squeeze your eyes shut and suppress your tears, you don't want to let his words hurt you even more. You're fed up with him punishing you for something without even talking to you. You still have no idea what the hell his problem is.

"Maybe I wouldn't look so pathetic if you treated me like an equal and told me what your fucking problem is!" you point your finger at him angrily.

Compared to Doflamingo, you look tiny and frail, but your frustration has turned to anger and you're not going to let someone who's supposed to love you talk down to you.

He grabs your finger and pulls you towards him in a blink of an eye. A devious smile forms on his lips.

"Looking so angry, you're quite cute." You turn your head to the side, away from him and Doflamingo grinds his teeth in dissatisfaction.

“You said you were mine, but you lied!” - “No! I didn't!" Frustrated, you slam your fists on his chest, trying to push away from him but his hands hold you tight.

“I'm all yours Doffy… please believe me…” Realizing that escaping Doflamingo's tight grip is pointless, you surrender and hide your tears by burying your face on his chest.

Unexpectedly, Doflamingo grabs your chin tenderly and pulls your face up to look into his eyes. You refuse a little, embarrassed at how unflattering your face looks.

“Look at me.” His voice doesn't seem affectionate, but you can't hear the spiteful undertone and obey his words. With tears filling your eyes, you try to maintain your gaze.

"If you're all mine, why do the others feel so free and hit on you right under my eyes?"

Your eyes widen. This has nothing to do with you. Not directly. It has to do with him being irritated by other men who are literally drooling after you.

You are delighted that it is not entirely because of you but it is not fair to make it solely your fault. If he blames you, it will be difficult to convince him otherwise, but after all these years at his side, you have some kind of feeling about how to talk to him.

“Doffy, do you love the way I look?” - “Of course.” His answer comes fast. You take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your face.

"And you love the way I act too… don't you?" - “Without a doubt, you're everything a man could wish for.”

“See? If my humble self can live up to a king like you, what do you think other men see in me?" His veins show on Doflamingo's temple. Clenching his teeth, he grumbles.

“I don't care about that!” - “And neither do I!” You stare silently into each other's eyes until Doflamingo sighs a little exhausted and lets go of you.

He takes off his shirt and lies down on the bed, his arms folded behind his head and his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

He thinks hard about your words, because you're right. It's only natural that other men turn their heads towards you when the sight of you catches even his attention.

If even you could get hold of his heart, of course you'll get hold of everyone's hearts. You are perfect in his eyes.

Never has he seen you even come close to responding to the wretched creatures… Actually it is the opposite, but he doesn't like the fact that all kinds of eyes can look at you so shamelessly.

You carefully take a seat on the edge of the bed and give him a moment of silence.

"…It all started when Crocodile praised you excessively when you were talking to other guests…" You remember. It was a gala party like any other, but you remember very well how differently Doflamingo treated you when you returned to his side.

You feel a little sad that he has such distrust in you… Everything you do, you do only for him.

Not to mention it's a bit ridiculous, since some of the clothes were personally chosen for you by Doflamingo. All your efforts only serve to live up to his image of the "perfect woman" and so far, you have been rewarded with everything you could wish for…

Knowing that Doflamingo is a very demanding man, you have made it your personal goal to live up to his expectations, but this seems now to be your undoing...

You can tell from Doflamingo's tense expression that he is still quite angry as he remembers Crocodile's words. In his eyes, it is more than impudent that someone would dare to say such words to him.

“I've never noticed how greedily the eyes of others follow you. At one point I thought about taking the lives of everyone who lusted after you, until I realized that would have been everyone…"

You reach for his hand without giving much thought to whether Doflamingo would allow it or not and stroke it gently.

"Keeping you away from everyone's prying eyes is the only option left to me." You know his actions are not right, because the ones who suffer are only the two of you, but nevertheless you can understand his actions.

He takes off his glasses and touches his nose between his eyes, lost in his unexpected feelings. He's not quite sure why he's telling you this at all…

You should obey him, but seeing you cry has triggered completely different feelings in him. Before you, there were numerous women who adorned his bed and no matter how much they cried and begged for his attention, nothing had stirred in him.

"If you want, I can stay low… I dress differently and avoid men… I just want to continue to be by your side...” - “No. You should be able to show off your beauty.”

Your heart skips a beat as he looks into your eyes with seriousness, but you don't know what other compromise you can make.

“I see…” You look sadly at the covers. There must be another solution than locking you up in the castle like a bird in a cage. Doflamingo's fingers intertwine with yours and he gently pulls you close. He lifts your chin with one finger and his usually hidden eyes show you the love he has suppressed all this time.

"However, seeing you cry like that made me realize how much I missed your smile." Are you dreaming or is that really your Doffy talking? You are at a loss for words. Even if the situation isn't resolved yet, a hint of a smile comes to your lips.

"Doffy, I'm just crying over you!" You give him your most genuine smile as you look into each other's eyes before continuing with your words. After he has revealed his true feelings to you, it is your turn to express your own thoughts.

"No one else could ever make me feel this way… I long to be with you… And I can understand your feelings... There are enough women fighting over you, but I never thought you could replace me." - "And I can't anyway, because you're the only one worthy of being by my side." He interrupts you in a lower voice.

“I know and the same goes for me. No one can take your place. Not even by force, because I know you wouldn't let them.” You snuggle up to him. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that you can finally be close to him again, that you can finally smell his intoxicating smell and feel his warmth.

His hand strokes along your fine curves, up to your shoulders and back down to your hips. You don't know how to solve this problem, but now you're sure that Doflamingo hasn't forgotten about you.

"I didn't know you feel the same way I do y/n." You shake your head with a smile, while he caresses your cheek.

“Imagining someone else standing by your side is already painful but not being by your side is hell, Doffy…” After longing for his tenderness for so long, you dare to allow yourself to kiss him.

After you shared a slow kiss, filled with longing, he nudges his nose against yours.

"Even if your makeup is all smudged, you're still the most beautiful woman in the world…"

That's it for today, my beloved ones. I hope you enjoyed it, kisses to you <3

𝑊𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑦𝑢𝑟𝑖.

#doflamingo one piece #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece oneshots #Doflamingo one shot

69 notes · View notes

vinsnacked · 5 months ago

Text

Thread of Hearts - Donquixote Doflamingo (soon!)

Donquixote Doflamingo x f!reader - series! , enemies to lovers type of plot, girlfriend!reader, reader is as crazy as doffy, devil fruit! reader, dick!, yet soft! doffy

summary: In a world where power and control define everything, Doflamingo finds himself unexpectedly softened by his partner—a former rival turned lover. While their relationship is unconventional and far from perfect, they find solace in each other’s company, carving out moments of peace and intimacy amid the chaos of Doflamingo’s criminal empire. As they navigate the challenges of love in a dangerous world, both learn that even the darkest hearts can feel warmth.

a/n: hi from vin snacked (vinsmoke + snack), here's a doffy fic to commemorate my first ever soon to be published fic in the op! world...

#donquixote doflamingo #donquixote family #donquixote pirates #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doffy one piece #one piece #one piece x reader

31 notes · View notes

grandline-fics · 5 months ago

Text

Immune To Your Charms decision!

I can make either scenario work but I’m letting you guys pick for me

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece poll #donquixote doflamingo x reader #one piece scenario #doffy x reader #doffy x you #donquixote doflamingo x you #one piece fanfiction #immune to your charms fic

19 notes · View notes

rollinouttahere-writes · 2 months ago

Note

Ngl I think I'd have a great time (not really but I'd learn a lot) being doflamingo's darling. Like I wanna study that man, so if he kidnapped me and kept me around all the time I'd be so intrigued I'm taking notes on all the weird shit he says and does. I'm also biting, but that's my own issues tbh

Doflamingo doesn't think much of the notebooks he sees you walking around with. He figures you've just taken to writing/drawing as a form of stress relief or something like that. But he can only ignore so many instances of him doing something that he deems completely mundane and hearing a quiet 'fascinating' followed by a bunch of scribbling before he has to investigate.

He snatches the notebook out of your hands one morning to figure out what exactly is so "fascinating", only to find a detailed series of notes.

8:02 a.m.: woke up. slept in, possibly related to alcohol consumption last night

- got dressed only after I gave him attention and stoked his ego; becoming habitual

- outfit appeared to have no rhyme or reason to it; possible sign of color blindness?

- made me wear a matching outfit for unspecified reasons

- strangled a servant on the way to breakfast for glancing at me for "too long"

- staring at me frequently during breakfast; may have finally taken note of what I'm doing

Doflamingo snaps the notebook closed and looks at the cover. Volume 18. His darling has been here for a month.

Him discovering what they're doing only emboldens his darling. Now they're even more blatant about studying him. They're straight up using a protractor to measure the angle his legs are at when he walks, and they take pictures of anything particularly odd that he does.

Doflamingo doesn't know if he's flattered or disturbed by the intense interest in him. Congratulations. You found a way to make Doflamingo uncomfortable.

#yandere one piece #donquixote doflamingo x reader

189 notes · View notes

froggiewrites · 4 months ago

Text

Mating Call

Pairing: Siren!Doflamingo x Reader

NSFW

Summary: The song is beautiful. The man singing it is even more so. So you do not fight the call to climb the rocks and fall into his arms. You do not fight his warm embrace, his touch, his sweet cooing. This is where you’re meant to be, after all. Who are you to fight against the melody calling you home? Warnings: AFAB!Reader (no pronouns or gendered language used), Smut, Dubcon, Mind Control, Oral Sex (Reader receiving), Biting, Marking, Vaginal Sex Word Count: 2.7k Halloween Special 2024

The melody was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

It was so soft at first you couldn’t understand why your heart had begun to sing, why your chest began to fill with warmth. You just knew you were at peace here, on this beach, sinking into the sand as the sun washed over you. It was only after you closed your eyes that you could finally hear the song clearly. There were no words, just the delicate warble of somebody else’s soul meeting yours. The harmony of it all compels you to move, to pull yourself out of the sand and start marching toward your destiny.

The voice shifts as you move, between pitches, genders, and emotions, before finally landing on a single one. A man’s voice, the mostly lovely baritone you’ve ever heard, calls to you. Not by name, but in spirit. Fate’s strings pull you forward, leaving footprints in the sand until you can feel the salty water of the sea up to your ankles. Your eyes open as the song grows louder, closer and closer, and you know that the man singing it will be ready to receive you.

Your hands find holds in the rocky wall in front of you, and you scale it with a precision you never knew you had. It’s as though someone else is moving your limbs for you, someone who knows the path like the back of their hand. You don’t slip once, not even when you reach sections wet from the sea, or those slick with something warm and red that you don’t pay any mind to. You’re almost there, and he’s ready and waiting for you.

The song reaches its peak right as your head peeks over the top of the ridge, and you can see him in his full glory: there is an angel waiting for you. His mouth is open wide, his eyes closed in concentration as he sings to you. He’s massive, nearly twice your height, covered in beautiful pink and white feathers that glisten in the light. They catch the sun, the rays dancing between them and almost making him sparkle. His torso disappears into a solid mass of feathers, which grow into legs far more similar to a bird’s than that of a human. Behind him are a massive pair of wings, the span of them large enough to blot out the sun if he so chose. As your feet finally rest at the top, he opens his eyes, which seem to pierce straight through you to your very core. At the same time, you see an image in your mind, so strong it nearly feels real: you, wrapped tightly in those feathers, shielded away from the world as he grants you all of the pleasure you could ever want. You can practically already feel him inside of you, feel his tongue inside of your mouth.

The song quiets as he finally speaks to you. “It could be a reality, little bird.” The moment he stops speaking, he immediately starts humming again, reaching his arms out to you invitingly. He gestures for you to approach, and once again your feet move before your mind does. Your hands reach for him, as though they were always meant to do so, and in an instant you’re surrounded by strong arms as his wings surround you both, blocking out the light and cradling you in their warmth. He smiles at you, the song fading, and you could swear his teeth were just a bit sharper than they were before. “Oh, you’re even lovelier up close.”

“Thank you,” you murmur shyly, suddenly aware of how very close the two of you are. He laughs with delight at the blush on your cheeks, holding you tighter and pressing your chests together.

“Oh, are you shy now? That won’t do.” He hums softly as he leans down and brushes his nose against your neck before nipping you, making you jump and inadvertently push yourself closer to him. Your arms move around his neck like they have a mind of their own. He nearly purrs when you do, so pleased with your acceptance. “There we go. That’s more like it, sweet thing.” He slides his fingers down your back, and you shiver as you realize they’re tipped with razor sharp claws, ones that could shred you in an instant if he wanted them to. You tense for just a moment, before he hums softly again, cooing in such a sweet tone that you can’t help but melt beneath his touch. Images of your union fill your mind again, of tender kisses and passionate embraces, of being laid down against these rocks and being taken again and again and again. He wouldn’t hurt you. He wants you. He needs you.

His head finally leaves your neck, and you get to see his eyes up close. They seem to pull back all of your layers, lay you bare beneath them. They call you forward, and before you realize it, your lips are against his. He makes a quiet noise of surprise, before you’re pulled up closer, your legs wrapping around his torso and his hands resting on your ass. The kiss begins as something almost tender, affectionate, before quickly gaining a heat that shoots straight to your core. His tongue meets yours, and he shifts to allow himself to hold you in only one arm, freeing the other to explore your body as it pleases. He reaches for your chest, letting out a soft noise of pleasure at the feeling of your softness beneath his fingers. He tries to brush against your nipples, before letting out a soft huff at the fabric in the way.

You’re so lost in it all, head fuzzy and warm, the sound of ripping threads doesn’t even startle you. Your bra and shirt are entirely shredded in an instant, falling off of you and drifting to the ground. When you shiver from the cold, his wings press in closer, trapping the heat from both of your bodies together, keeping you warm as his fingers knead at your breasts. His lips break away from yours so he can finally see them fully exposed, and he grins, all teeth. “Lovely little thing,” he murmurs, leaning down and taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

He sucks gently, and you can occasionally feel just a hint of his teeth, slightly too large in his mouth to keep fully away. Every part of him is so terribly sharp, made for ripping and tearing carrion, for breaking bones, for killing small and tender things like you. But he holds back those edges, ever present but never quite threatening. Even as he lavishes your chest with attention, turning rougher, leaving marks that will certainly last, you remain entirely relaxed in his arms, ready to accept anything he’ll give you.

“You’re doing so wonderfully.” He smiles against your skin. “Really, I might have to keep you.” He lets out another quiet trill, and you easily fall back, your weight only supported by his wings. With both his hands free, he easily frees you of your pants and panties, leaving you fully bare. His tongue traces along your torso, down to where you’re dripping and waiting for him. Instead of giving you what you so desperately crave, his attention moves to your thighs, the plush untouched skin just begging to be bitten and marked.

You whine when his teeth make contact. “Please.”

He chuckles. “Please, what?” You moan as his tongue swipes up your thigh, closer to your cunt, but still torturously far. “I’ll get there, little bird. Just be patient.” Despite his scolding words, he seems thrilled at your pleas, preening at every little sob and cry, clearly proud of reducing you to such a state. It is only after you’re near tears that he finally gives in, and he spreads your lips with his fingers, admiring how wet you are.

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a long swipe of his tongue, and you can’t help but throw your head back as you moan. “Delicious. So perfect.”

He clearly savors your taste, eyes briefly falling closed as he allows it to sink in. You let out a needy little sound despite yourself, and you can see the edge of his lip twitch slightly before he opens his eyes, staring into yours, and diving right in. His tongue laps at you, gathering your juices for him to enjoy. As your pleasure builds, overwhelming you, you desperately try to find something to ground yourself. You settle for his shoulders, the soft downy feathers there tickling your palms as you squeeze, holding onto him for dear life. After he hits a particularly sensitive spot, your nails dig into him and he groans. You let go, afraid you’ve hurt him, and he pulls back to bark at you, “No, no, no. Put them back.”

You place your hands on his shoulders again, gently, and he lets out a frustrated huff. “No. Harder. Leave your marks.” At his instruction, you dig your nails in harder than ever before, and you can feel his skin break beneath your fingertips. He moans. “Yes, perfect. And so obedient. I really will have to keep you.”

He goes back to lapping against you with a revived fervor, something new rising inside of him. You continue to dig into his skin, hard enough to bruise, and he lets out a soft groan as the pressure increases. It drives him wild, sends his tongue deeper than before, causes his claws to press into your hips, not breaking the skin but teasing the idea.

“Delicious. Worth missing a few meals for.” He pulls back to show his face is covered in your slick. He licks his lips, gathering more of it on his fingers just to pop them in his mouth. He hums, pleased with your taste, giving you a grin that’s all teeth. “You really were made for me, little bird. I wonder how you’ll enjoy being mine.”

You shiver at the idea. Of being wanted, needed, cherished. “I’m going to love it,” you mutter.

His smile grows wider. “Of course you will, sweet thing. I’m glad you realize that." He moves up, crashing his lips into yours, your own taste filling your mouth. “My pretty little mate, here waiting for me whenever I want you. What a wonderful thing.”

Your mind fills with images of you curled up in a nest, naked and waiting as he approaches. Your arms are always outstretched, welcoming him home, not minding the blood spattered on his beautiful feathers. You accept what he gives you, no matter what it is. A gift, his touch, his cock, you accept it all, pleased to receive anything from him. You spread your legs before he even asks, knowing what he wants, and you allow him to take you. The pleasure is beyond you imagination, every single time, every nerve in your body alight with every touch. The vision, combined with his current ministrations, brings tears to your eyes, as you nearly drown in your pleasure, both current and future.

He licks a tear off of your cheek, groaning as his aching cock ruts into your thigh. “Oh, you perfect little thing. So willing. So wanting. So ready to be had. Do you want me, sweet thing?”

“Yes!”

“Excellent. Then you’ll have me, again and again. Let’s make the first time count.” He slowly sinks into you, moaning in your ear of the feeling of your wetness around him. You wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his shoulder blades, arms tucked directly under the wings that curl around you both. The softness is contrasted by the sharpness of his claws against your hips, and the stiffness inside of you. His hips twitch as he struggles to hold himself back, but you don’t worry for a moment. He wouldn’t be rougher than you could handle, you know. His melodic moans sound in your ears, relaxing your muscles and mind.

He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, to the feeling of fullness, before he begins a harsh pace, hips slapping against yours, feathers brushing against you with every thrust. He places open mouthed kisses against your neck, gentle bites against your neck that grow harsher as he begins to lose himself. You don’t know if the warmth dripping down your front is your blood or his saliva. You don’t know if you care.

His thrusts grow quicker and quicker, sloppier and sloppier, furiously pounding into you. His breaths are ragged, frantic, as he chases his high. Your chests rub together, your nipples rubbing against both skin and feathers, the sensation overwhelming. You cry out as you come undone around him, clenching around his length, your body desperately trying to pull pleasure out of him with its own. He spills into you with a groan, warmth filling you as he wraps his arms around your waist, trapping you against him.

“Don’t waste a single drop, little bird.”

He waits for a few minutes, keeping you against him, cooing sweet nothings, before he finally decides he is done. He walks across the rocks, claws softly clicking against stone, before speaking again.

“You did wonderfully.”

You lay back, chest heaving, and he lets you go for the first time since you stepped foot onto the rocks. Your back is against something soft, which you think may be his nest. You feel his hands brush against you as he checks you over, ensuring not of his bites were too deep. He lets out a soft coo when he finds everything to his satisfaction. “Excellent, little bird.” You can hear him fussing with something before you feel something in your mouth, fishy and wet. You gag, and he pulls it out with a displeased hum. “Not right, hm? I’ll find something else.”

You hear his footsteps leave, off to find something else to feed you, and you shift onto your side. Your entire body is sore, and you can feel the cum leaking out onto your thighs, sticky and warm. When you stretch your legs, you feel your foot hit something, and the soft clatter of something hitting the ground. The sound is strange, unfamiliar, and when you open your eyes, you see it.

Bones.

You seem to have kicked the femur of some large animal. It knocked into a pile of smaller bones, some tiny and square and some longer and thinner. Something about them is sickeningly familiar. You try to push down the nausea, ignore the thought that if you peeled back your skin you would find something nearly identical beneath it. For a moment in your mind, you see your lover’s teeth and claws sinking into your skin for you, ripping you apart so very easily, coming to him far more naturally than tenderness ever could. Bile rises in your throat, and all of your muscles tense, ready to scream, to run, to throw yourself off of this cliff and into the waters below because you might survive and even if you didn’t it would surely be a kinder fate than this poor thing had.

“Darling?” Your head shoots up to see him again, hands filled with berries, nuts, and other various plants he seems to have gathered for you. His eyes drift to your feet, and you see understanding in them. “Ah. I see. I should have tidied up earlier.”

As he approaches, you prepare to launch yourself past him, to get as far as you can, but his smile is so gentle as he quietly begins to hum. The song grows louder, and you feel your muscles relax as he steps closer. His hand rests on your cheek, claws held carefully away. He lifts a berry to your mouth, and you open it with ease, allowing him to place it on your tongue. It’s sweet.

He tenderly brushes his hand over your head, continuing his song, pulling you into his chest. You curl into him easily. He hand feeds you every morsel he gathered, smiling all the while. “Everything’s alright, little bird. Nothing to fear. I plan on keeping you around for a very long time.”

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl

#doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo x reader #doflamingo x you #donquixote doflamingo #one piece x reader #x reader #doflamingo x y/n #one piece #op #one piece smut

316 notes · View notes