#donquixote

[bakkfity]

Uhh, I tried to make another entry for @corazonartcollab

It was a big challenge for me, because it was so much more detailed than the previous one… Most of the time, I honestly had no idea what I was doing.

[enchantedbook]

Don Quixote - Sancho Panza and his faithful companion' Illustration from 'Don Quixote' by Miguel de Cervantes, illustrated by Gustave Dore, 1890.

[fanaticsnail]

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes (1/2)

Masterlist Here, Pollen Masterlist Here

Part 2 Here

Word count: 7,500+

Synopsis: Doffy is attempting to gain the upper hand against you. He's longed for you, yearned for you - in his own unique way. Considering you never give in to his flirtatious advances, he takes matters into his own hands and attempts to spike your drink. The problem? Your quick wit and nimble fingers switch whisky glasses with him, causing unforeseen problems that he has no cure for…

Warnings: Doflamingo x f!reader, NSFW, 18+, Mdni, smut, pollen fic, Pollen!Doffy x Unaffected!reader, dubcon, size difference (Doffy is 10’, reader is 5’+), degradation - Doffy receiving, yandere Doffy, Doffy is a brat, mentions of drugging, mention of poison, Doflamingo is a conniving bastard, swearing, choking - Doffy receiving, Doflamingo is his own warning, Doffy begs, toxic relationship, Doffy is infatuated, love confession, marriage proposal. ‘Mi amor,’ ‘Mami,’ femme titles used for reader.

Notes: this may not be everyone's cuppa, and it was absolutely something different I decided to try for pollen. Please read the warnings before reading the fic.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @nerium-lil @writingmysanity

Sitting at the lengthy dining table, Donquixote Doflamingo extended his glass out towards the gathering of eclectic individuals. Each person present had an array of wealth, titles and reputation; all represented with their names embroidered into their napkins and painted into their drinking glasses.  

Doflamingo had planned everything perfectly. He had plotted each element of the meal to have everyone relax into the welcoming environment: keeping the air light and merry. There was not a fork out of place, nor a knife unaccounted for. He wanted the mood light enough to have you not suspecting a thing to go wrong.

And everything was going exceptionally well, all according to his plan. 

“To a long and healthy relationship between us all,” Doflamingo's smirk grew on his face, him turning to you with a small wink, “And to casting aside differences in the face of humility. Salud.”

“Salud,” you and the crowd repeated in unison, all arms extended with beverages in hand. 

Your glasses all contained gold letters depicting your names and titles on the rim. The servers ensured the liquid was all topped up with your chosen beverage for the night. Your choice? Whisky, neat with no frills nor ice to taint the liquid. Just like your host, Donquixote Doflamingo. 

All according to your plan. 

As soon as you received an invitation to attend this dinner party, you knew Doflamingo was planning something sinister for you. His silly little mind games he used to attempt to get the better of you were always centric to his plans. To embarrass you, to humiliate you, to harm you, to ridicule you: this was always the aim. And you had had just about enough of this torment. 

Getting information out of his menagerie of guards and house staff was simple enough. Offer them enough Berry, and their lips would never stop moving. Hearing Doflamingo’s disappearance in the town square, halting over a small shop stocked with pills and powders, had you mortified at his cruel fate he had in store for the evening. 

You expected poison to meet with your lips the moment you raised your glass to meet them. Your little game would rise to the greatest crescendo yet, you clutching at your rapidly closing throat and pleading for reprieve. Considering Doflamingo was the one to purchase the powdered poison, he would likely only offer you the antidote if you begged for it. 

In lieu of following through with the action of swallowing a heaping gulp of poisoned whiskey, you decided to give the pink-feathered bastard a taste of his own medicine. You reap what you sow, was how you figured it. 

“Fuck around and find out,” you chanted internally. Your soft, knowing smile drew over your features; watching Doflamingo drain the contents from the glass in his hand with gusto. You mirrored his action, downing the liquid in a single gulp. 

Doflamingo shot you a smirk, watching your face for any immediate changes to your body. A flush of your cheeks, a dilation of your pupils, your lips parting and becoming both drier and filling with saliva in unison. He was shocked when you returned his smile: only warmth being offered to him from your place across the dining table before turning to the woman beside you. 

He initially thought drugging you with a form of poison would be a hilarious sight: watching you claw at your neck and beg for the antidote in front of a room of his wealthy guests gave him a sick sense of satisfaction. But to give you an incredibly potent aphrodisiac with no known cure aside from giving into your cravings? Why, the thought alone made his cock twitch in eager anticipation.

He wanted nothing more than to have you shed your fine clothes of their place on your body, tearing them at the seams and beg for him to finally fuck you. He wanted you so desperate for him, you'd care not of the fact the room was full with those in your same league of formal standing. 

As you had always turned down his prior advances of you; he wanted to claim you publically, and leave no room for misinterpretation for his ownership of you. He wanted you to want him, to yearn for him, to plead for his cock with lust oozing from your body in rapid waves. 

He wanted you to want him in the same way he chased his release into his palm every night since your first introduction together. He wanted you the same way he would pay concubines to pretend to be you: copying your mannerisms, immigrating your vocal cadence, wearing similar attire. 

It was never enough for him. He wanted the real thing, and he hoped this final push would have you want him back. 

His craving to have you on your knees and begging for his cock to fill you to the brink with his cum, your neediness flushing your face, the whines and whimpers you'd elicit was too much for his mind to catch up with. He was already feeling aroused by the thought alone, confused at how alite his body felt with just the simple flash of erotic imagery. 

Suddenly the room was hot. Too hot. His clothes were too tight, the lights were too bright; causing him to wince behind his rosy glasses. His cheeks tinted with a soft pink, his body immediately becoming ignited with the hot beads of glistening sweat. 

He attempted to process the feeling, the stiffness of his erection brushing painfully against his striped, leather pants. Eyes widening and teeth clenching, he hissed out a winced breath as the sensitive buds of his nipples grazed against the open jacket firmly clutched against his chest. 

Looking down at the glass in his hands, his lips parted with horror. 

Your name was intricately painted in perfect cursive on the rim, each letter sparkling in the light illuminating the room. He snapped his face over to you, watching as your smile climbed up at the corners of your lips. 

Remaining blissfully unaware of how much torture you narrowly avoided, you asked the waiter for another glass of whiskey for yourself and your companion beside you.  

The glass in your hand had his name “Donquixote Doflamingo” in coiled lettering on the rim. As the waiter filled it, you held your eyes firmly against your conversation partner before you slowly sipped at the contents within. 

The cruel reality of his situation now dawned on him. 

He had unintentionally spiked himself with the incurable aphrodisiac, in public, instead of you. And now his body was desperate to see his lust satisfied by any means necessary. 

“And what did he say, Maria?” you asked the woman beside you, your attention fully fixed on her eyes as she relayed her tale. 

“He said: ‘a goddess as radiant as you should have men falling to their knees in adoration’,” Maria mocked in a lower, masculine tone. You bit back your smirk, eyeing her dangerously. 

“And what did you do in response to that?” you urged her with an excitement in your knowing tone. 

“I let him worship,” she smirked at you. Both of you became overcome with a fit of giggles, laughing at the sheer audacity of her promiscuous nature. You tapped her forearm with your hand playfully, enjoying a soft shove in return from her shoulder. 

Of the guests amongst you: Maria and you had known each other the longest. Both of you felt out of place here, being two of the few women present. You were roughly of similar ages, both unmarried and unspoken for. She had a soft-spot for the marines, her latest conquest being the right-hand man of Vice-Admiral Garp. 

“You are incorrigible,” you tease her, with a soft, “Atta girl,” added, nudging her with your shoulder before elevating your drinking glass up to take a sip. 

“Speaking of,” she returned your gentle nudge with one of her own, “Doflamingo’s glass? How'd you manage that?” She gestured to the cup in your hand. 

“Bribed the server,” you smirked, clinking the rim of the cup with the one in her own hand, “Had a feeling a game was afoot. And you know what they say,” you leant against her shoulder, both fixing your eyes on the blonde man at the head of the table. 

“Play stupid games,” you both uttered in unison, “Win stupid prizes," concluding with a sinister chuckle,

Your host for the night was hunched over the table, his teeth clenched firmly shut and soft beads of sweat were rapidly now gathering at his temple. This only solidified your suspicions, noticing the silence he was presenting in lieu of his usual conversation. 

Raising your brow, you remained focussed on him as the grip his hands perched against the table made his knuckles flash white. Curiosity plagued you, unsure as to why he was not asking his staff for the antidote to cure him. He was obviously under the effects of some kind of poison, his heavy breathing and indicator of such a plight. 

Why would he not ask for help? 

His eyes meet with yours, his frown deep and teeth grimacing. Quietly raising your eyebrows at him, you gently extend his glass in the air to add further sting to the ridicule. His eyes drew up to glare beneath his pink glasses. His pupils were focussed on your body, noticing every exposed area of flesh remaining unshrouded on the neckline of your button-up shirt. His eyes attempted to undress you, his gaze scorching you beneath his rose-tinted glasses. 

Noticing his gaze, you hum in deep thought. Shrugging your shoulders back, you turn to Maria beside you and give her a short nudge. Upon finishing her final bite of dessert, she turned towards you. 

“I’m going to go and gloat for a minute at my quick swipe,” you smirk at the woman to your side, “I'll be back once I'm satisfied he's ‘faced his humility’.” 

“Be safe!” she giggled, ushering you on with two quickened waves of her hands. 

“I'll be so safe,” you mocked her in return. Rising to your feet, you tucked your chair beneath the table and watched as several others did the same. All mingling amongst one another, you made yourself comfortable in a now vacant seat beside Doflamingo. 

“Doflamingo,” you nodded your acknowledgement, crossing your knees beneath the table and nudging his calf with your foot, “You've been awfully quiet tonight.” Trailing your toes over his calf, you noticed the hitch of his breath as he balled his knuckles into clenched fists. 

“Something amiss?” You asked him, placing down your drinking glass for the night while circling the rim with your index finger, “Something not quite going according to plan, perhaps?” Your smile grew as you noticed his shoulders tense, his breath hitch and his legs began to shake beneath your foot.

Gently trailing your toes higher, you eyed his reaction cautiously. His body was as hard as polished marble, his hair now slightly damp with a small amount of sweat gathering on his forehead. 

“Oh, Doffy,” you hissed a small whisper, your foot now tracing the outer edge of his thigh, “What the fuck were you attempting to poison me with this time?” You clicked your tongue at him, pouting through pursed lips, “Doesn't look like it's quite agreeing with you.”

“Out,” he whispered in a gruff bark. 

The quiet growl cut through the air like a steel knife carving through tough flesh. All guests immediately drew their eyes over to the pink-feathered host with a snap of their chins towards him. 

“I said out,” he snarled, his eyes frantically darting between each member attending the dinner party, “Everyone out. Out now.” 

You flinched at his change of tone, jumping back in your seat but refusing to hede to his dictation. Doflamingo felt his blood ignite with a passionate lust he had never experienced. He needed the cure, and he needed it now. 

Each guest rose to their feet, murmuring amongst themselves as they hastily fled the space with caution. Against your better judgment to follow suit, you remained behind and rose the glass marked ‘Donquixote Doflamingo’ to your lips and finished the remaining liquid within. 

Whiskey burned its way down your throat, the honey-sweet notes lingering on your palate as you placed the glass down once more. You rose to your feet and grasped for the water jug in front of Doflamingo and poured your emptied glasses with the icy water. 

“You don't look so good, sweetheart,” you cooed in a mocking gloat, placing the water glass with your name in front of him, “Have a drink, you'll feel better.” Doffy remained unmoving, clenching his eyes tightly shut as his body fought against itself. 

He tried to convince himself he'll manage this. He'll get through it without asking for your aid. He'll be able to withstand the potency of the aphrodisiac without becoming a whimpering mess in front of you.  

But then you spoke. 

And you kept speaking. 

Your sweet voice cut into his resolve with expert precision. Haunting him, cursing him with the ridicule that you should've been experiencing. He attempted to control his urges by gulping back a dry mouthful of saliva and concentrating on slowing his breathing. 

“Oh, come now,” you scolded the tall, blonde, “Nothing to say for yourself, huh?” You leaned your hips back on the table and eyed him cautiously, “Not even going to order the staff to get the oral antidote for whatever you've-.”

“-There is no oral antidote,” he spat through gritted teeth. He tried to ignore the twitch of his cock at the mention of ‘come’ and ‘oral’ from your lips. The swelling blood pooling in his cock had the shiny tip brushing against his leather pants. He mewled at the small twitch of his oversensitive knob, attempting to disguise his whimper with a soft cough. 

The air grew thick and tense; silence swelling in an uncomfortable dance of fluttering heartbeats. After taking a moment to hone in on your thoughts, you slowly inhaled and exhaled alongside externally verbally processing. 

“You were going to have me drink a poison tonight that had no cure?” you uttered darkly, “And watch me convulse as I took my last breaths?” Down turning your snarl and drawing up your heckles, you placed your foot on Doflamingo's bare chest and kicked hard. You glared into his shrouded eyes. 

“You were going to publicly execute me in front of your guests?” you continued, “My friends, my colleagues, my potential clients? Doflamingo,” you continued, leaning down and pressing your chest into your knee, “You deserve your cruel fate. Suffer, asshole.”

A shaky, large hand slowly drew itself up and softly cupped your ankle. He cautiously lifted your foot off his chest and pressed his lips against the ball of your foot. As soon as that kiss ended, another was placed slightly higher up into your inner calf. 

He removed your shoe, casting it to the side of him as he groped at you with his large hands. Hastily drawing his hands down to collect your other foot, he rid the presence of your shoe from you before placing your toes down on his thigh. 

Shock wrote itself on your face as a flurry of several more kisses were pressed into you. Each kiss was accompanied by a strangled whimper falling from Doflamingo's lips: breath hitched, brows furrowed and throat humming out the calls of desperation. 

“It h-has a cure, mi amor,” he softly whined into your leg, “Just not a manufactured one.” His lips could barely part with your skin, each soft kiss growing hungrier the further up your legs he drew. Humming through several more of his kisses, you were too terrified to truly correlate his affectionate advances to any known experience prior. 

Donquixote Doflamingo had always been intrigued by you. Always finding some way to bully, vex and torture you. This was something you never anticipated. His desperation in need for you was now depicted as his tongue raked up your thighs: his moist organ dampening your pants with a long and lustful streak of saliva. 

“Absolutely not,” you spat, forcing Doflamingo back into his seat by pressing your foot against his chest once again. “What the fuck, Doflamingo?” He mewled as your heel grazed his right nipple, his body crying out in relief and arousing itself further. 

From this angle, you hastily drew your eyes down to the large polearm hoisting up his pants in a perfect peaked tent. His large cock left very little to the imagination beneath the shroud of his leathery pants. 

He whispered your name, the last syllable calling out in a soft sob. His breaths were both deep and shallow, his body hot and cold, his mind clear and cloudy - he had no idea how to process these emotions. All he knew is he needed you. He wanted you. He craved you. 

Disgust was now openly displayed on your features at his desperation, watching the mighty King of Dressrosa sob and cry for you like a child that had a favorite toy hovering just out of reach. His hands began opening and closing, the strings of his devil-fruit power beginning to hover in his fingertips; only to fizzle away as soon as they formed. 

“What were you attempting to spike me with tonight?” you hissed at the blonde king, adding an emphatic kick to his chest to regain his attention. 

“An aphrodisiac,” he admitted, choking on his confession as he attempted to withhold it, “One so potent, the only cure for it is s-sex.” He moaned with his hissed admission, throwing his head back and whimpering. 

You sucked in a horrified gasp, recoiling as you understood exactly what he was admitting to you. You took a moment to collect your thoughts and mull over your next actions. Hardening your resolve, you shook it off and removed your foot from his chest, before straightening up your clothes. 

“Fuck you, Doflamingo,” you spat, beginning to walk away from him and collect your discarded shoes. He spun in his chair, almost knocking the seat over with the haste he followed you with. 

“Where are you going?” he whispered your name, falling onto his knees and needily following you with desperate longing. You growled, pairing your shoes and beginning to attempt to exit the dining room. 

“Getting you your concubines,” you spat over your shoulder, “Only cure for this is sex, and there is no way you're getting that from me,” Your hand hovered the doorknob, halting as a large hand drew down onto your knuckles and held your hand firmly away from it. 

“Don’t,” he huffed a gruff growl, his body leaning unconsciously towards you. 

“You want the cure? I'm getting it for you,” you whispered, rage bubbling within your chest, “It's likely better than the fate you had in store for me.”

Silence was once again uncomfortable between you, your confirmation solidified in the quiet of his response. 

“You would've had me beg for it, wouldn't you?” you uttered darkly, “Have me grovel and plead for release in front of the entire dinner party.” His hand tightened over yours, bordering on painful. 

“Yes,” he admitted in an icy tone. He sucked in his bottom lip, clenching his teeth over them and moaned while inhaling your scented perfume. 

“And who was going to be the likely cure for this tonight?” you shot over your shoulder, noticing his face was hovering closely against your shoulder, “You?”

“Yes,” he whined, hovering his body behind yours and caging it against the door. 

“You bastard,” you spat, turning around to face him and breaking your hand away from his, “You don't deserve a cure for this-.”

“-I know,” he sobbed, dropping to his knees in front of you, “I know, I know. I just-...” 

“Just what, Doffy?” you growled at him, “What now? After all this, what-?”

“-I just wanted you to want me how desperately I want you,” he confessed in a single breath, his words fleeing from him with unbridled gusto, “I wanted you to want me so badly, your body couldn't stand another moment without me. And now that I've taken the fucking drug instead of you,” he lunged towards you, clutching at your thighs, “I can barely keep up with how much I want you.”

“Doffy, what are you-?” you began, your breath hitching in a shriek as he ripped off your pants in a quick swipe. “Doflamingo!” you yelped as he buried his nose against your clothed cunt. 

“Let me taste you,” he whined, nuzzling against your panties with his nose and greedily lapping at the cotton with his lengthy tongue, “Please, let me have you cry for me. I n-need you.”

“Doffy,” you uttered sharply, nudging his shoulders away from you - which did nothing to halt his enthusiastic advance. He instead circled his arms around your thighs and hooked them over his shoulders. 

Shrieking, your back was now placed against the door: Doflamingo's head buried deep between your thighs as he clasped his hands around your ass to hold you in place. Greedily bobbing his head, he began lapping at your cunt with his slippery tongue, paying no mind at all to the fact what he wanted most was shrouded by the fabric of your panties.

With each cruel swipe, a single word was chanted in a penance-like prayer. The word was music to your ears, your resolve crumbling with each whimpered petition. The song of his desperate pleading beckoned you to let go and give into him. 

“Please.” He hooked his lengthy tongue beneath the fabric, clenching his teeth on the elastic and noseying it aside with his chin. “Please.” Flattening his tongue, he gasped as he tasted your sweet nectar and swirled his organ over your clit. “Please.” 

The ache in his pants was so strong, he could barely take another moment not being buried to the hilt within you. He continued to make an effort to withhold his cravings, to ensure you were ready to take him, as he was twice your size in every way. 

Being the giver was not his strength. Doflamingo would take, take, take until there was nothing left to take from his bedmates. He wanted to chase his release, no matter the consequences his large cock would indent while sheathed within a partner. He simply didn’t care about them, but he did care about you. He wanted you to want him so badly, desperate to earn your approval and love. He needed you to know how far he was willing to go to ensure this was as good for you as it was going to be for him. 

You barely had a moment to adjust to what was happening to you. Replaying the events of the evening perplexed you with even more confusion. 

Doflamingo invited you to dinner with the intention of poisoning you. A poison that was an incurable aphrodisiac that made you desperate for sex with any willing partner. The reason he wanted to poison you with this was because he liked you, and wanted to pursue you romantically. And instead of asking to formally court you, he decided spiking your drink in public was the answer. 

You had every right to push him away, to tell him “no,” and to halt his advances. But at each skillful swipe of his tongue, you felt more of yourself melting away beneath his humility. His apology dictated to you with each intentional swirl of his lengthy tongue.

“Doffy,” you mewled to him, feeling his tongue dip into your slick entrance. His nose circled your clit, his skillful organ greedily flicking in and out of your cunt while hooking up within you to climb deeper into your body. Your walls clenched around his tongue, his chin spiriting you towards bliss as he ground your pussy against his face. 

“Please,” he muffled into your core, desperately lapping up your arousal like a dog parched for water, “Please, please.” You felt your stomach tighten, his aggressive chase of your high with his lips wrapping around your sensitive bud ushering you to your unravel. 

“Doffy, wh-what are you-oh!” your breathy gasp had his hands pawing at your ass, grinding your core against his face harder to urge you closer to your high. Your hands pawed at the wall behind you to brace yourself against it. You found the pit of your stomach wind tighter and shoot sparks down your legs. He moaned into you, expressing his gratitude at your body beginning to give into him and release your inhibitions onto his face. 

“Please cum,” he begged, slurping messily and lapping up your juices, “Cum on my tongue. I n-need it.”

Your hands shot down to his hair, clutching at the strands in heaped fistfuls. As the coil inside you snapped, your lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as he channeled his desperation into meeting your needy thrusts and grinds against his head. “Let go, let go,” he begged you, his face becoming coated by your gushing slick. 

“D-Doffy! Oh, f-fuck. Oh fuck, I'm cumming. You fucking prick, Doffy!” You mewled his name, crying for him with your eyes clenched tightly shut. 

His hair began to burn within your fists, but he truly didn’t care. His tongue lapped up your gushing cunt over emphatically while grinding you skillfully against his nose, lips, tongue and chin. Riding your high, Doflamingo continued to hold you against his face as your soul fell back inside your body. 

“So good,” the older Donquixote brother complimented you, looking up at you through his glasses, “Now let me fuck you.” He withdrew your hips from his head, attempting to wrap your legs around his waist and shepherd you over the waistband of his pants. 

He pawed at the front button, his cock immediately springing forth and glistening in the light. Eyes spread wide with worry, you shook your head after feeling yourself recover from your high. Your underwear once again shrouded your glistening core, protecting you from a small twitch of interest from Doflamingo’s aching and incredibly large cock. 

“No, Doffy,” you firmly commanded, wriggling yourself away from his hold over you. As you side stepped, his hands extended in longing with outstretched, splayed fingers. He whimpered, his body leaning down and shaking with desire. 

“B-But I-...” he didn't get a chance to speak, as you growled over his pleas. 

“-You pinned me to the wall, and forced me cum on your face after you attempted to poison me,” you barked at him, “And now you expect me to help you by what? What, Doffy?” you snarled intp his face, baring your teeth at him, “You want me to sit on your cock and ride you until you cum? Tsk, pathetic.”

A sound you were not expecting to exhale through Doflamingo's lips at this moment. He sobbed, his lips quivering as his hands shuddered. His lengthy digits hovered over his cock, desperately wanting to chase his high into his fist: only withholding it because he knew it would make his situation all the more severe. He knew he couldn’t cum without external, other bodily stimuli. He needed you to help him, and he bit back a soft sob as his eyes grew glossy behind his pink glasses. 

“I need you,” he whimpered, “I need you so badly. I needed you when you were first introduced to me, and I have needed you ever since.”

“I simply do not care, Doflamingo,” you spat in return, his soft sob doing nothing to break you away from your resolve, “The only thing I’ll do for you is get you a concubine to sleeve your cock in, but otherwise I am done.”

“I don’t want them, I want you,” he whimpered, shaky hands balling into his covered thighs. His cock twitched in the air, the veiny underside throbbing with pulsating longing. You fold your arms over your chest, looking down on the taller man with absolute disgust. He held your gaze with his shrouded eyes, disguising his longing behind their tinted hue. 

“You repulse me,” you snarled, walking over to his kneeling position on the floor.

“I adore you,” he mewled through his confession, gasping as you grasped his girthy shaft. 

“You don’t deserve this,” you began pumping his shaft, flicking your thumb over his glistening knob. 

“You deserve the world,” he confessed, a small release of tears began expelling from his eyes. You halted your fisting of his cock, focussing your unrelenting grasp over his tip and squeezing it. 

“I despise you,” you spat, using your unoccupied hand to pry his glasses away from his face; throwing them on the table beside you. As soon as your attention returned to his now unconcealed eyes, your breath was stolen from your lungs. 

“I desire you,” he whispered, blinking slowly with his lengthy blonde eyelashes. You understood now why he concealed them behind his sinister glasses. His irises were a pastel pink, eyes expressive now they were unshrouded by the coloured glass. There was no lie presented within his eyes, honesty being the only inhabitant lying within. He was a very pretty man, especially with his whole face now presented to the light. 

“You make me sick,” you lied through gritted teeth as you rolled your neck, stepping out of your panties and straddling his lap, “You are foul,” you anchored your knees against his hips, placing your heels firmly on the floor beside him, “Obnoxious and detestable.”

“Mami, stop teasing me with your horrible words,” he moaned, “I’ll cum.”

“You’ll cum when I allow you to cum,” you retorted firmly. The bob of his adams apple did not escape your notice, nor did the soft roll of his glassy pastel eyes. You clicked your tongue, lining up your slit with the tip of his cock. 

“Don’t you fucking move, Doflamingo,” you barked your orders at him, “You’re a great deal larger than I am, and I am no mere whore you paid to fuck yourself stupid in.” He sucked in a soft whimper as he felt your prior release coat his knob, “I don’t particularly enjoy taking partners twice my size, and I don’t want to get hurt because you decided you wanted to buck up suddenly.”

“I-I won’t, mi amor,” he stuttered, crying out a little with his lips parted, “I’ll be a good boy, I swear. So good for you.” 

“Pathetic prick,” you mewled at him, eyes wincing as your body adjusted to taking his tip inside you, “It hurts,” you cried out a little as your body began to sink onto him. Your slow descent atop his cock, impaling yourself on his thick shaft, had your breath hitch and a soft whimper leave you, “And you were going to rail me with it, weren’t you?”

He stooped low, covering his eyes by burying his head against your clavicle. He huffed out his restraint, his voice shuddering as he felt your walls stretch to accommodate him. Wrapping his arms around your back, his fingertips ghosted around your body to trace gentle encouraging circles against your skin. 

“Answer me, asshole,” you sobbed, slowly sinking down as you felt the blunt, mushroomed tip begin to kiss your cervix, “You owe me that much.” Anchoring your hands against his shoulders, you braced yourself as you continued to inch your way down his lance of a cock. The girth was almost the width of your forearm, your glistening walls struggling to stretch to accommodate him. 

His shoulders shook, his lips finding your collar bone and pressing gentle kisses against it. He winced as he disciplined his body to wait for you to adjust to him, sniffing back a small cry.

“Th-The pollen makes you-... nnnmpph-... Makes your arousal heighten,” he winced at his resolve, bracing you within his arms and snaking his large hand up your back, “You would’ve b-been too far gone to care.” 

“Is that what you are, Doflamingo?” you snarled at him, sinking yourself past your limit to suck more of his full length inside your body, “Too far gone to care?”

“I want you, mi amor,” he murmured into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your neck and brushing your blouse away from covering your chest, “Although, I a-am reaching my l-limit for tolerance. I need to fuck you. I need t-to cum inside you.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move,” you whimpered at him, “You’re too f-fucking b-big.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he exclaimed, tearing his face away from you to look into your eyes, “I am so sorry.” His expressive eyes pleaded for you to understand how hard he was trying to hold himself back. His pink irises were eclipsed by his blown pupils, his lips open and panting, his temple bleeding with drops of heavy sweat. He couldn’t help a soft rock of his hips, testing how your body adjusted to him. 

“Stop!” you barked at him, “Stop that right now or I’ll leave.” Doffy whined, prying open your shirt with one quick rip, tearing the buttons from the seams and revealing your bare chest to him. The buttons flew over the room, your nipples perking up now revealed to the cool of the air. Your sleeves fell down your shoulders and each inch of revealed skin was immediately replaced by Doflamingo’s lips. 

“I’m r-reaching the e-end of my resolve, mi amor,” he confessed, “I-I’m c-close, and I need you to bounce a little on me. Please ride me as you are now, you d-don’t need to take any more of my length. Please just bounce on what you can take. I’ll be so good.”

“Close just from me taking your partial length? You’re so fucking pathetic,” you degraded him, your voice solid and unwavering. You felt the twitch of his cock, his body revealing more to you than he would ever audibly inform you, “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Doffy whimpered.

“S-Stop degrading me,” he attempted to growl, his voice breaking and turning more into a breathy pant, “Stop it or I’ll cum, mi amor. I’ll cum so fucking hard for you.” His whispered confession had you elevate a sinister smirk up your lips.

“Stop calling me ‘mi amor’,” you wrapped your right hand around his throat, your left perched on his shoulder as you sunk yourself down on him, “I���m not your love. You're a conniving and devious bastard, and I despise you.”

“Just like that, Mami,” he whimpered, hands falling to your hips as you began to bounce on his cock, “I know you hate me. I adore that about you. I wanted you for so long, and you’re so, so good.”

“At least your ears work, you arrogant prick,” you released your firm hold on his throat, glaring into his eyes as you continued to take more of him into you. You became more confident in riding his swollen cock, bouncing, writhing and grinding your slick cunt against his pelvis, “Maybe there is hope for you after all-.”

“-No, no,” he begged, pressing his throat against your palm, “No: I’m nauseating, I’m disgusting, I’m pathetic. Please, please choke me. Tell me how much you hate me. Ride my cock while you tell me you find me repulsive.” 

“Oh fuck, Doffy,” you bit back your moan, feeling the rapid approach of your second orgasm stampeed within your abdomen. You choked him harder, forcing his eyes to meet yours as you circled your hips on his cock. His eyes held firm to yours, feeling the tangible dislike against him from you. He fought back the urge to roll his eyes back in bliss, his balls sucked deep within his stomach the longer you rode him. 

“I abhor you,” you whined, feeling him hold back meeting your bobbed movements. You finally began encouraging him to thrust up into you, your motions now rhythmic and in perfect synchrony. 

“I adore you,” he whispered in return, placing his lips against your jaw and tenderly kissing you. 

“I f-fucking loathe you,” you felt the familiar sparks indicating the eruption of an impending orgasm. Your pussy began contracting around him, your walls beckoning him with rhythmic throbbing. 

Whimpering, your world came crashing like waves breaking down cinder blocks. You threw your head back, keening more so at the fact Doflamingo made you cum for a second time tonight. The first one was against your will, this one you ensured you were in control of. 

“I fucking l-love you,” he held his eyes against yours, his orbs glassy as they filled with tears, “I love you so fucking much,” he mewled in bliss as spurts of his hot cum splashed deep within you, “I-I-... I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh fuck. I’m c-cumming. You’re s-so good. I love you s-so fucking much. I love you.” 

He cried, hot tears of relief spilling down his cheeks as he sobbed through his accentuated release. His lip quivered, his highly emotive eyes looking almost innocent the longer he rocked his hips up into yours. You squeezed his throat, choking him as your pussy milked him of his large load. 

The spill of his seed dripped down your legs and onto his patterned leather pants. The blunt tip of his velvety cock continued to kiss your cervix, propelling you into a longer release. Your walls could barely contract around his cock due to the stretch, but each time Doffy’s cock released a squirt of his cum, it twitched back enough for your cunt to wring his shaft. 

The twin highs seemed to last an eternity. Spurts of his load continued mixing with your slick and Doflamingo’s prior saliva. You were not sure when exactly it happened, but you found yourself within an almost loving embrace within Doflamingo’s arms. His cock was sleeved completely within you to the hilt, your arms circling his shoulders as you both hid your faces in each other’s necks. His hands gripped your waist, his blonde eyelashes ticking your shoulder as he buried himself deeper within you. 

Sunk to the hilt, you remained that way until your thighs began to burn from holding your body up over his thighs. Your pussy began to ache, coming down from your high with his full length still buried within you. Unhooking your arms from his shoulders, you attempted to remove yourself from his embrace to no avail. He held you firmly, not enough to bruise, but not allowing any room for you to wriggle away from him. 

“Doflamingo, release me,” you barked at him, shoving his shoulders away in an attempt to reveal his eyes to you. 

He held you tighter. 

“Doflamingo, let me go,” you spat, trying again to flee from his steely grip. He gripped his elbows behind your back, holding you firmer. 

Your panic grew more frantic, your heart beating faster than it did when you rode through your bliss. 

“Doflamingo, you will break away from me this instant,” you pushed and shoved him with all your might, only managing to have your abdomen ache at being so full for so long. 

He refused. 

“Doflamingo, if you don’t free me from your grip right now; I’ll-,” Doflamingo murmured against your chest, halting your wriggling and frantic movements. 

“-But if I let you go, you’ll flee,” his voice whimpered, his chin anchoring against your chest and staring his blush-coloured orbs up at you. You felt yourself become breathless beneath the spell of his loving look, feeling all emotion pouring from his eyes onto you. 

“Yeah, that’s the point,” you attempted to break from his embrace, only causing Doflamingo to grip you tighter. 

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he massaged down your back, pressing on your hips firmly enough to lock you against him, “I meant every word I said. I love-.”

“-And I meant every word I said, Donquixote,” you winced against him, attempting to pry his hands off you by gripping his wrists. He was far stronger than you were, causing panic to rise within your chest, “I hate you.”

“Marry me.” 

Those words shocked you, causing you to snap your eyes up to meet his. Again, those ruby orbs held you captive. You couldn’t believe how expressive they were. 

His soul was raw behind those twin lanterns, illuminating his face with the innocence you were certain had long-since left him. Still, you remained firm - the softening of Doflamingo’s cock within you brought you crashing back to reality. 

“Never.” 

“Consider it,” he sighed, releasing your left thigh and cupping your cheek with his left hand, “Consider it, and you will want for nothing. That’s all I ask,” he rose from his stoop and pressed his forehead against yours, “That’s all I want. All I’ve only ever wanted.” 

Using this opportunity: you hastily rose to your feet, the crude squelch of Doflamingo’s flaccid cock exiting your slit prompting you to cringe more than the embarrassment you felt at his profession of love. You felt the mix of fluids seep out of your core, dripping down your legs and onto the floor. He called your name, wincing now he felt empty and unfulfilled without you wrapped around him. 

“No,” you retorted, bending down to recover your panties and pants. You wrapped your top around your chest to shield your body away from his eyes. 

“You would be my queen,” he tried again, leaning forward on his knees and looking up at you, “Queen of Dressrosa. Queen of my heart. I would have you rule beside me as an equal, mi amor-.”

“-I said ‘no’, Donquixote.” Your buttons from your shirt lay scattered on the floor, your eyes darting around while arguing whether they're worth collecting. 

“Please,” he whispered his soft beg, his palms finding the floor as he began to crawl towards you, “Please, I need you. I want you. I crave you. I would bleed for you, die for you, kill for you - just say you'll be mine.”

“Look,” you turned on your heel, glaring at him with enough animosity to halt his low stalking prowl, “The next time you attempt to drug me over dinner and accidentally drug yourself in my place,” you snarled, prompting Doffy’s eyes to fall half-lidded in adoration, “Do not call on me for aid, you won't find any empathy from me.”

You hurriedly thrust your panties and pants back over your sticky legs, tucking your shirt into them as Doflamingo sat back on his knees, kneeling in stunned silence. Without a further word, you made your way towards the large exit, only stopping your withdrawal when Doflamingo tried one final time to woo you. 

“You didn't even let me kiss you,” he whispered in a voice so soft, you halted in place to hear him. You turned your chin, glancing at him over your shoulder as he sat in somber silence. 

“If you think you're getting a kiss from me after all that-...” you began, fully turning to face him as his head lay hanging low to avoid your eyes. You sighed, finally in pity for a man who resorted to great lengths to gain your attention, “...you get one to show me your gratuity.”

Doflamingo perked up, his ruby eyes meeting with yours with the hope of a child being promised their greatest coveted prize. 

In a few hasty strides, you made your way back over to Doflamingo. He continued to kneel beneath you, cock still hanging limply over the waistband of his pants. You grimaced at the flaccid cock, noticing that its limp length was still well above the average size of the cocks you'd seen prior. 

You shook your head, taking Doflamingo's cheek in your palm and elevating his face to meet yours. Lips closing in a soft purse, you collected his plump lips beneath yours in a soft and tender kiss. Parting your lips, you gently grazed his mouth with a soft swirl of your tongue. He moaned against your lips, large hands perching on your hips and holding you firmly against him. 

Tilting your head, you bumped Doflamingo's chin with your own to deepen it. He sighed into your mouth, allowing you to initiate how much emotion you were willing to press into him. His lips felt warm, encumbering and loving, something you were not expecting to experience from any encounter with the King of Dressrosa. 

Even though he had confessed his love for you, the softness he was presenting you with was foreign in comparison to his harsh dictatorship. You swirled your hands behind his head, massaging his scalp in soothing circles. A happy chirp fled from his lips to yours, his smile evident as his tongue collided with yours. 

Breaking away from his embrace, your hands raked through his blonde hair affectionately. He hummed up at you, his blonde eyelashes fluttering beneath his half-hooded eyes. 

“I'll cherish the gift of your lips always, mi amor,” he sighed up, the sparkle in his ruby gaze. That title snapped you away from your daze, shaking your head and once again grimacing. 

“Never call me ‘mi amor’ again, asshole,” you spat hastily, refusing to allow him a semblance of your heart, “I'm not your love, I'll never be your love. You're fucking pathetic, and I hate you.”

“Stop being mean to me,” he licked his lips, his gaze growing dark, “I’m already starting to get hard.”

[toxic--jpg]

Donquixote Rosinante in cinema 🥀🎞️

[algoney]

[yandereonepieceimagines]

I really like how you write them! Can I have Akainu, Crocodile and Doflamingo being outsmarted? With a sea prism cuff.?

----------

But of course! And oohhhh, I see exactly what you’re trying to do. :P

I absolutely love the idea. Especially with Doffy involved! He’d be all over that, in his own unique way, of course.

By the way, the lampposts are reinforced with diamond cores. So, it’s pretty much impossible for many to break out of those restraints right away.

------------

Warning! Hinting at NSFW!

Donquixote Doflamingo

The cliffs of Coral Spine Bluff on the north side of Stone Huts Island overlooked the sea in a sheer drop, framed by bursts of crashing waves below. It was a popular lookout spot. Scenic and peaceful. At least, until today.

Now, silence ruled.

A crowd had gathered just beyond the edge of the bluff, wide-eyed and unmoving, and with their breath caught in their throats as they looked upon the bound man at the cliff's edge.

And not just any man.

Donquixote Doflamingo.

Tall, imposing and with a lean chest wrapped in pink feathers and exposed muscle beneath, he stood with one wrist shackled to a titanium pylon by a sea prism stone cuff. Even in restraint, his presence was downright monstrous. An apex predator frozen into a moment of stillness. You had moved in a blur, barely quicker than his reflexes, ducking under the sudden arc of his arm as he'd tried to grab you. His fingers had grazed your shoulder, just enough to remind you how close you'd come to being caught. Your heart thundered, your pulse roaring in your ears, but you didn’t stop. You slipped in just close enough to snap the cuff shut around his left wrist, feeling the faint tremble of risk replaced by a sharp burst of control.

The sunlight glared off his signature shades, but nothing could mask the slow, devilish curve of his grin.

You had done it. Somehow.

Your chest still heaved from the effort of the confrontation. Your hood was up, cloak fluttering behind you in the wind as you retreated down the path. Your ship was already prepped to take off. The town below buzzed with disbelief, but you didn’t linger long enough to revel in the shock of the citizens. You had no intention of staying to bask in this temporary moment of victory.

Not with him.

Not when his presence still clung to the back of your mind like a thread you couldn’t shake off.

You hadn’t said anything to him. No parting words. No quips. Just the snap of the cuffs and the immediate sprint toward the docks. Your instincts screamed louder than any triumph.

He didn’t thrash. He didn’t snarl, either.

He only watched. Unmoving. Still.

That was until you reached the ship’s deck and looked back.

His head tilted slowly, sunglasses catching the sunlight. That smile; the kind that made your skin crawl and spine freeze, widened into something amused and sinister all at once.

And then came his voice. Low. Drawling. Playful. A velvet threat soaked in something warm and terrible.

"You are only delaying the inevitable."

Your blood ran cold, and the words sunk into your chest like an anchor. The sea breeze stilled. The air itself stopped moving.

You could’ve sworn even the gulls fell silent in that moment.

The space between you and the bluff stretched wider with each second. And yet his presence loomed even larger. Like it had taken root in the very air.

He fed on the unease like it was foreplay. The tension in your shoulders only deepening his pleasure.

His smirk widened just a fraction more. Slow and deliberate. As if savoring your reaction was more satisfying than any physical retaliation. His head tilted slightly further, as though admiring you from afar. Like a toy that had just slipped out of reach but not yet out of his control. And just for a heartbeat… So brief it might have gone unnoticed… He trembled.

A subtle shiver rolled through his shoulders. Frustration. Hunger. That instinctive, possessive rage restrained just enough to keep him still. It made what he said next feel even more unsettling…

"The next time restraints are used," he purred, voice laced with thick innuendo, "it will be in my bed. You'll be the one trembling then.~"

That laugh. Slow. Drawn out. Soaked in anticipation.

"Fufufufufu!~"

The sound echoed off the cliffs, riding the wind like a haunting promise. Every villager present flinched.

You turned away without a word, the air tighter around your chest than ever before. The sails caught, the ropes strained and the ship creaked to life.

But your pulse didn't settle.

Not when you could still hear him.

Not when you knew he meant it.

Sakazuki Akainu

The docks of Stone Huts Island buzzed with tension, and the usual bustle of merchants and fishmongers were reduced to whispers and wide eyes. Just off the plaza, near the storefronts shaded by awnings and lanterns, a titanium lamp post now bore a new, very jarring addition.

Admiral Sakazuki Akainu was chained to it.

One wrist locked tight in sea prism stone. The restraint bit into his skin, veins twitching with controlled fury. His crimson uniform, now dusted from the scuffle, still clung to his massive frame like armor. The Justice kanji on his cloak’s back looked more ominous than noble now.

His jaw was clenched, the hard lines of his face locked in a snarl that simmered with rage and something far more sinful.

You had done it. You had actually done it.

Your cloak billowed in the sea breeze as you made your way toward the ship waiting at the end of the dock. Your steps were steady, but your heart was racing. You were still recovering from the sprint, the gamble. You hadn’t expected it to work. Not with him. But you had struck in that narrow window, when his guard was just low enough. The risk had nearly cost you.

Even in the thick of it, he hadn’t used his Devil Fruit powers.

You knew he could have scorched the stone beneath your feet or turned the air itself molten. But he didn’t. Not here. Not with civilians present. And certainly not with you in reach. He didn’t want to hurt you. No. You realized now. Not even close. That restraint wasn’t just physical. It was personal.

And that gave you just enough time to act.

You had ducked under his reach and snapped the cuff shut around his wrist, retreating in the same breath. It had been close. Close enough that your back had nearly broken out in a sweat at the heat of the proximity. One more second, and you’d have been in his grip.

But now?

Now he stood like a volcano forced into stillness. Surrounded by townspeople too afraid to speak and too transfixed by the rare sight of an Admiral subdued.

“You think anyone else gives a damn about you?” Akainu barked suddenly, his voice sharp but composed. Measured in a way only a Marine could manage in public. “You think any of them know who you really are?”

Locals flinched, some unsure of what he actually means, a few backing away as his voice cut through the plaza like heat. But he didn’t look at them.

He looked at you.

“You just do not get it,” he growled, eyes narrowing beneath the shadow of his cap. “I’m the only one who sees you. You can run. Hell, you can chain me. But it won’t change that.”

He didn’t shout it like a threat. He meant it. Every word.

And you knew better than to mistake these words- that kind of obsession, for anything else.

You reached the gangplank. One hand gripped the railing. But something inside made you pause.

And when you turned back…

There it was.

Not the cold, cruel sneer of an Admiral known for incinerating pirates.

It was that smile.

A heated grin. Deep. Hungry. The smile of a man shackled not just to a post, but to the thought of you. His gloved fists clenched tight at his sides, and though rage still shimmered behind his eyes, it warred with something much more dangerous. Something that flushed across his cheeks in a soft, unsettling hue.

A blush.

High on his cheeks, stark against the weathered bronze of his skin, it stood out like a brand. You hadn’t known Akainu could blush. Not a man built of lava and law. But there it was. Undeniable. And it made the hunger behind his eyes all the more disturbing.

You stared back. Just for a moment. The ship rocked beneath your feet, the wind curling around your cloak, but you stayed rooted in place. Drawn to the sight of him. Not out of victory, but from the chill crawling up your spine.

In that moment, you understood exactly what he was thinking.

He wasn’t only angry because you had gotten away.

He was also thrilled that you’d dared to get close and defy him in the way that you did.

You hadn’t escaped.

You had ignited something deep, volatile and entirely yours.

And now it was only a matter of time before it came roaring back for you.

Sir Crocodile

The sun bore down upon Stone Huts Island, its tightly packed stone houses casting compact shadows across the winding alleys that twisted toward the busy port. This wasn’t some desolate battlefield. This was a vibrant hub, full of noise, motion and oblivious normalcy. And that was precisely why Crocodile had chosen it. Word had placed you here, long enough to act. He would strike in a place you'd never expect to be vulnerable. In plain sight.

But he miscalculated.

The sharp clink of sea prism stone cuffs broke the salty breeze as Crocodile released a guttural snarl, his left wrist locked tight, the second cuff coiled around a titanium lantern post. The metal barely groaned beneath the sudden strain. His instincts had fired instantly the moment you'd lunged. He saw it coming, but too late. His abilities, stripped by the sea prism stone, couldn’t activate fast enough to slip free, to ensnare you in turn. You were a blur. He’d almost caught you. Almost reversed it all.

Instead, he was bound.

His fur-lined coat slipped from his shoulders in the clash, falling into a heap of fabric and dust at his feet.

For a split second, fear had surged through you. Getting that close was like leaping into a lion’s jaws. His sheer size, that suffocating presence… Every single part of him screamed danger. But the instant the cuff snapped into place, that fear evaporated, replaced by a cold, relieved certainty.

The trap had worked. He was locked. And his rage surged, thick as cigar smoke in his throat.

He bared his teeth for only a second. A flash of untamed hatred. His heavy-lidded eyes, burning beneath thin, furrowed brows, locked right on you. The long scar across his nose looked even more severe in the tightness of his glare. Strands of black hair had slipped from their slicked-back hold, framing his face in disarray, and he looked like a man one twitch away from snapping everything around him.

At his feet, his cigar lay crushed beneath his boot. His golden hook, gleaming and inert, gave a useless twitch. He could still flex it, but it had been neutralized. Useless and mocking in the light.

Curious townsfolk had gathered and formed a nervous semicircle along the edge of the plaza. Locals. Dockhands. A child tucked behind a merchant’s leg. No one spoke. No one dared. Even bound, Crocodile exuded the weight of a monster. A Warlord subdued, but far from defeated.

They knew better than to look too long. Better than to speak.

And still, he smiled.

Not the slow, amused smirk of confidence.

This was thinner. Tighter. Sharpened into something almost venomous. You hadn’t merely escaped. You’d outplayed him. Lured him in. Outmaneuvered him where he was supposed to have every advantage.

Anyone else would already be dust for less. But you weren’t just anyone.

His eyes tracked your ship as it slipped from the docks, sails rippling in the wind. There you stood at the bow, composed beneath the deep hood of your cloak. You always hid your presence. Since the very beginning. Even now, as you drifted out of reach, you kept your distance cloaked.

But just as you turned away… Just as your head tilted back to face forward… It happened.

A flicker.

The ghost of a smirk. Small. Involuntary. Not for him. Not meant to taunt. Just a brief curl of satisfaction you didn’t even know you let slip.

He didn’t flinch, but his jaw locked hard and a muscle beneath his scar jumped. His shoulders coiled with renewed rage, the cuff biting into his wrist as he tested it again, knowing it was useless.

Not because of your guts. Not even because you’d caught him. But because of that smirk.

The unintentional insult. The accidental reminder that you had beaten him. And worse… You didn’t even mean to rub it in.

Your scent still lingered faintly. The moment you had locked him in place played over and over in his mind, each replay feeding the gnawing ache in his lower gut. Desire twisted inside him.

You hadn’t just won. You had stirred something.

He didn’t crave your blood. He never had. But what he always wanted from you ran even deeper now. Slower. The fire in your eyes. The edge in your voice. He wanted the look you’d give when the game turned. The moment of realization, not from afar, but close. Very, very close. From behind closed doors.

Next time, there would be no second chance.

It wouldn’t be a chase. It would be a claiming.

And when he caught you, because he would …. He wouldn’t stop at just metaphorical chains.

He would tether you to him, in every way.

Let the villagers remember this day. Let them tremble at the sight of a Warlord restrained.

This wasn’t defeat. This was obsession, bared for all to see.

And you had made him want.

[sebritz]

ryodon has done sometjhing to my brain

[benne-ve]

[damuraw]

Talisman Don Quixote

[bakkfity]

Uhh, well, I missed Cora’s birthday, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t try to draw something for it! Sadly, I had a lot of IRL stuff going on, so I couldn’t finish my sketch in time.

But here I am—hours late, but still with a finished drawing. Yay!

Happy Birthday to our bestest Donquixote Rosinante!

[tetramepfiris]

after the library I don't really like Queen of Hate, but for Don Quixote it fits very well and I like it

[pxnkrosetea]

Cafe Cora🌹

[toxic--jpg]

waiting for his valentine 💐💋

[algoney]

[hattywisparts]

Guess who's about to mass drop art for a short period and disappear again heh. (also i became a project moon fan how cooked am I y'all)

[yandereonepieceimagines]

You brought me on an idea with a little bit of a crack/funny scene with the baby 5 ask xD What about the reader, stumbling into those Den Den Mushi moments, where it rings? Here is at least one moment that I think about:

Crocodile who tries to reach Mr.3, but is met with the reader exploring Little Garden, and is the one who stumbled on the wax house instead of Sanji. Bonus if she instantly has beef with him.

But can you do something similar with Doflamingo, King and… Akainu too, maybe? Really like how you seem to imagine our magma man to be like as a yandere!

-----------------

Omg even Akainu! xD That makes me happy! This one was tough, but I gave it my best shot! I actually picture the reader being pretty strong. Definitely tougher than most of the infamous pirates from the Grand Line and beyond. But compared to the true heavy hitters of the New World, she’s still a bit below average. So honestly, she either doesn’t realize what she’s getting herself into or she just doesn’t care.

Crocodile, though, is an exception. Unlike most characters, I genuinely feel he was introduced way too early in the series and Luffy was rocking some serious plot armor to pull off that ultimate win. In my mind, Crocodile is still stronger than the reader. I always try to let that show whenever I’m writing scenes with him.

----------------

Donquixote Doflamingo

The trees of the island bled red and gold. Their leaves rustling like paper caught in wind. It was always autumn here. Perpetual twilight, where the sky stretched heavy with bronze clouds and the ground was layered in thick, crunchy carpets of fallen foliage. You had landed only hours ago. Your small but dependable ship anchored in a quiet inlet where no marine nor pirate eyes would pry. The island wasn’t charted on most maps, but you weren’t most travelers.

You weren’t searching for anything in particular. Sometimes, the Grand Line simply offered places that drew you in like a whispered dare. And so... With your satchel strapped and weapon sheathed, you had wandered into the woods until you found it.

A log cabin, old but sturdy, tucked beneath the boughs of a crooked sycamore. Moss crept up the sides, and its windows reflected the orange canopy above. No smoke in the chimney. No footprints around. But the door had been left ajar, as if someone left in a hurry.

You pushed inside.

It was quiet. Functional. Whoever lived here had cleared out in haste. Half-eaten rations still on the counter, a coat flung across a chair and a Den Den Mushi blinking silently in a wooden bowl.

You turned around to leave, but then it rang. "Pururururu."

The snail jerked further to life, its face twitching into a grin far too amused for the stillness of the room. The sudden noise startled you. Not because it was loud, but because it felt so out of place in the quiet gloom of the cabin. Like the room itself had been waiting for that moment.

You stared. The Den Den Mushi’s features animated as if it already knew something you didn’t. Its little eyestalks twitched in your direction, looking at you.

Then, with a faint frown, you picked it up.

"Hello? Owner of this Den Den Mushi isn't here right now."

"Well, well," came a smooth, languid voice on the other end, practically dripping with theatrical charm. "And who might you be, hm? I didn’t know we’d upgraded from grunts to goddesses."

You blinked, confused. The line was unusually clear. His voice had that honeyed tone that suggested he was far too used to being listened to.

Then you sighed.

"Alright? Anyhow... Whoever this is, your person is not here. And neither am I, for long."

A pause followed. Long enough that you almost set the transmitter down again.

Then a short laugh. "Oho? You’re not going to play along? And here I thought I was being charming."

"You're not," you replied dryly. "You sound like a man who talks too much and listens too little."

Another beat of silence followed, but it felt heavier now. Charged. As if he hadn’t expected to be dismissed so quickly. You imagined him leaning forward, just slightly, intrigued by your disinterest.

"Now, now, don’t be so cruel," the voice said again, the velvet edge thinning, revealing something less polished beneath. "At least tell me your name. Surely that’s not too much to ask?"

"No," you said again, sharper this time.

"Oh? Then maybe just a hint?"

"…Still no."

A pause. It lingered longer this time. Then he let out a low chuckle, but there was a new note to it. Something colder and more deliberate.

"You know, people don’t usually trouble me like this. It’s bad manners."

"Then consider this an education," you muttered.

And with a tired breath, your patience gone and your interest long since vanished, you clicked the line shut.

Unceremoniously. And completely unmoved.

Far away, in the lavish interior of a certain sky-lit palace where the sun's beams fell across velvet furniture, a tall figure lounged in a throne-like chair. Doflamingo stared at the now-silent Den Den Mushi. The curve of his lips still twisted in a smile, but his eyes from behind his distinct sunglasses had narrowed. There was a stillness in the room. A coiled quiet that belied the tension blooming behind that smirk.

He tilted his head back before letting out a small chuckle that echoed like shattered glass through the vaulted space. he is far too delighted for someone who had just been so thoroughly dismissed. But the sound was hollow, yet razor-edged. Amused, yes, but in that way predators are amused when prey shows unexpected teeth.

‘So that’s how you want to play it...’

He ran a tanned finger along the Den Den Mushi's now dormant shell, as if expecting it to wake up again with your voice, to apologize, to beg. His grin remained, but it no longer touched the sharpness in the rest of his features. The mood in the room shifted, the temperature cooled by calculation.

You had no idea who you were speaking to. No fear. No reverence. Just irritation and the gall to hang up on him.

Amusing. Unforgivable.

He laced his fingers beneath his chin, elbow resting comfortably on the arm of his chair as the lenses of his glasses flashed gold beneath the sunbeams. The wheels were turning. Names. Faces. Locations. You had become a question that needed answering, and once answered, a piece he would yet decide how to keep.

King the Wildfire

The air was brittle and sharp. Each breath you took cutting into your lungs like tiny knives. Snow fell in soft sheets, almost too delicate for the world it blanketed. You had landed your ship; small, frost-lined, and slightly worn by travel, on the edge of a cliffside inlet. It was the kind of winter island only the bold or the desperate would approach, hidden deep in the New World, far off any trade route or charted log pose.

You’d come here for solitude. Maybe to resupply. Maybe to breathe. Even in the New World, there were moments when the silence of the snow could drown out the madness of the sea.

But the island wasn’t empty.

You found the cabin while following a trail of broken pine branches and faint blood marks half-buried beneath the snowfall. Whoever had stumbled through here had been in a hurry, and hurt. The cabin itself was wedged between slabs of frozen rock, built tight against the wind, its windows frosted over and door cracked open slightly.

Inside, it was dark, dimly lit by a fire that had long since died. Supplies had been overturned. A half-unpacked crate of rations sat untouched, next to a thick black fur-lined cloak that hung by the wall. Whatever had happened here, the occupant had left, or even been taken, suddenly.

You should have left. It was none of your business.

But the Den Den Mushi on the corner table suddenly stirred from its blanket.

Its eyes blinked open, slow and groggy, then twitched to life. Its shell, black and almost armored, vibrated slightly as static bled through its mouth. Then it rang. "Pururururu"

You frowned, hesitated, then stepped forward and picked it up, your fingers tensing instinctively.

"Yes? Whoever this is, they’re gone now. I just found the place."

There was a pause. Then, a steady voice came through with a weight that settled instantly in your chest. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

"Who are you."

Not a question. A demand.

You raised an eyebrow. Lips twitching at the coldness of it as you are more intrigued than intimidated.

"Shouldn’t I be asking you that mystery voice?"

Another pause. Then a sound like wind through steel. Controlled, but dangerous.

"This line was not meant for you."

"Clearly," you muttered, already feeling the conversation sour. "Take it up with whoever left their life behind here. I’m just passing through."

"Describe yourself."

You snorted, more amused than concerned. "You first."

Silence.

And then, for a moment, you thought he’d ended the call.

But then he spoke again. Slower. Measured. Almost... Thoughtful.

"You shouldn’t be there."

That sent a prickle up your spine. You glanced toward the window, suddenly more aware of the wind outside, of the cabin’s exposed position.

"Tch. Don’t worry. I won’t be for long," you muttered, your breath curling in the frozen air as your fingers hovered just a moment longer over the receiver.

The silence on the other end thickened, as if he was still there. Judging. Waiting for a mistake you wouldn’t make.

Your lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. With a soft exhale and zero ceremony, you clicked the transmitter down with finality, like closing a door on a storm that hadn't quite reached you yet.

Amid the churning clouds of a storm-gray sky, a tall, dark figure hovered. No longer flying in motion. Enormous and winged, it was enshrouded in a mantle of black leather and flame.

King stared at the Den Den Mushi nestled in his gloved hand. It looked almost like a pebble cradled in his palm. His jaw set, unreadable behind his obsidian mask, but his eyes narrowed beneath it- two sharp coals in a sea of silver cloud.

You had not been afraid. Not respectful. Not even curious.

You had spoken to him like he was just another voice. A stranger. Like he didn’t matter.

Now he needed to know the face behind that voice. The stranger who spoke so carelessly.

And if you thought the cold of the island would hide you, you didn’t yet understand what burned beneath his skin.

Sakazuki Akainu

The island was alive with birdsong and breeze, the scent of wildflowers sweet on the air. Spring had settled thick into the ground. Lush green hills rolled beneath a soft blue sky, and warm sunlight danced across the surface of quiet streams. It would have been peaceful. It should have been.

But something felt off.

Your ship was moored in a small cove just beyond a canopy of flowering trees, nestled beside jagged cliffs. You'd come here for a brief survey. Mapping islands untouched by the World Government, collecting samples, maybe marking a few points of interest. It was the kind of work that should have felt routine by now. But as soon as your boots touched the forest floor, the wind shifted. The birds quieted. Something- someone was missing.

It was a trail of bootprints that led you to the modest hut perched on a slope above the stream. Simple, sturdy, built with intention. But the door was ajar, the interior empty. No food. No packs. Just the remnants of someone leaving in a hurry.

And a Den Den Mushi, sitting neatly atop a wooden desk.

It rang the moment you stepped in.

You stared at it. Just long enough to question your instincts. Then you picked it up.

"Hello? The person linked to this Den Den Mushi is currently nowhere in sight."

"Who the hell is this?" the voice growled through the line. Low, gravelly and laced with the tightly controlled outrage of a man unaccustomed to sudden surprises.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You first."

A pause. Just a beat. But it was dense with barely contained irritation.

"You're trespassing on restricted grounds. Identify yourself immediately."

"Pass," you said flatly, not in the mood to entertain command barked like law.

The silence that followed turned molten. You could practically feel the seethe radiating from the snail. The Den Den Mushi even twitched slightly in your hand, as if anticipating the fury on the other end.

"Listen well. I don’t care who you think you are, or what authority you pretend to operate under-"

"You want to try that again with a little less barking and a little more humility? Who are you exactly?"

The voice hissed like boiling coals. "I am Admiral Sakazuki Akainu."

You blinked. Then scoffed. "Oh. That explains the total absence of warmth."

The line went still, but not with silence. It felt like the kind of stillness before a firestorm rips through the sky. The Den Den Mushi's features slowly twisted in discomfort, its body drawing back just slightly further as though it too feared what was coming next. Yet its face… Its face still mirrored the one on the other end. And that face was furious.

Then he spoke again, lower this time, slower: "You have five seconds to explain why you're there."

You rolled your eyes. "Take a hike. I currently abide by the law, as the island itself isn’t officially limited. And I won’t let some old man too high up his horse ruin my expedition. Not today."

You didn’t give him the chance to steamroll the conversation again. Your finger hovered just half a second longer, then pressed down with quiet finality.

Click.

Out at sea, aboard a massive Marine battleship cutting through the blue, the call ended with a sharp click that echoed louder than it should have in the Admiral’s quarters.

Though you weren't present to witness it, the ambient atmosphere within the Admiral’s quarters had changed noticeably in the span of just a minute. An almost tangible pressure descended, as if the temperature and tension simultaneously rose in response to the call's abrupt end.

Sakazuki stood behind his desk, gloved fists clenched tight at his sides, the Den Den Mushi still twitching faintly in fear on the polished surface. The words you’d left him with still rang in his ears. Unapologetic, dismissive and entirely undeserved in his mind.

Your voice. Your tone. That defiance. It wasn't just a slight… It was a challenge. And whether you realized it or not, you had his full attention now.

He stared out the porthole, his jaw working, heat radiating faintly off his shoulders as magma simmered just beneath the surface of his skin.

You had mocked him. Dismissed him. Treated him like an annoyance.

You still had no idea who you were speaking to.

But he did.

You were now a question he needed answered. A fire he had no intention of extinguishing, but rather understanding.

He would find you. He’ll go directly to the spring island instead. Marinefort can wait.

And when he gets there, he would meet your defiance not with fury, but with equal intensity. A force not to silence you, but to match you. He needed to know what kind of mind stood behind that voice, and what kind of a heart dared to challenge his.

You had sparked something he couldn’t ignore.

Sir Crocodile

The jungle of Little Garden buzzed with ancient life, massive prehistoric flowers blooming in unnatural colors, their petals bigger than sails and glistening with dew the size of pearls. You had come to this strange island alone, navigating the Grand Line aboard your own compact but expertly built vessel. Fast, stealthy and equipped to endure the worst of the seas. It was all you needed. You never did like sailing in someone else’s shadow.

Your boots sank into mossy earth as you ventured deeper into the foliage, drawn not by a map or mission but by curiosity alone. Something about the raw, untouched feel of the island tugged at you. And then you saw it. Tucked into a grove of twisted trees. A structure entirely out of place.

A house made of wax. It looked like a giant box with oddly charming round windows, basic in shape and strangely pristine among the jungle's chaos. The structure seemed almost cartoonishly simplistic, its smooth waxy exterior untouched and looking quite fresh. It stood there like a misplaced toy dropped in the wilderness, absurd in its bold presence but undeniably inviting. Your instincts bristled at the unnatural sight. Every survival lesson told you to walk away. And yet, curiosity whispered louder, more insistent. It always did. You stepped inside.

It was quaint, eerily tidy, with the faint scent of candlewax and floral tea lingering in the air. The interior was smooth and softly glowing, with light filtering gently through the round windows. A kettle still steamed gently on the table, and porcelain teacups were set out neatly for five, their delicate rims catching the light. As if the host had just stepped out and would return any minute.

You arched a brow but shrugged, placing a modest stack of belli beside the cup that looked unused. Gratitude without a name. You sipped. Jasmine? Maybe bergamot? You have no clue. Still… Surprisingly refined for such a bizarre setting.

After a few minutes of soothing silence, a strange crackling sound broke the quiet. Muffled, subtle, like a whisper trapped in a box trying to escape. It was faint, but persistent, threading unease through the otherwise peaceful stillness of the wax house.

Your eyes drifted toward a modest wicker basket tucked against the wall. You approached slowly, each step muffled by the waxy floor beneath your boots, and crouched to examine the basket.

Curiosity, again, won over caution.

Cautiously, you flipped open the lid. A low, static hum greeted you, followed by the sudden blinking of a Den Den Mushi, its tiny snail body twitching awake as if shaken from slumber. You picked up the call.

Its eyes blinked at you, already mimicking the tension of someone on the other end of the line. Someone who looked anything but friendly.

"Hello?" you said smoothly, lifting it to your face. "Whoever owns this Den Den Mushi isn’t here right now. Can I take a message? I could write it down for this..." Your eyes examined the engraved black lettering and the serial number inscribed neatly near the top of the Den Den Mushi's shell, just above the dial casing. An identifier likely tied to its designated owner, which made it all the more curious. "Mr. 3?"

The snail's mouth twitched, its face forming into a vaguely annoyed scowl. You watched, your brow arching slightly, as the Den Den Mushi’s features settled into the likeness of someone clearly unamused. There was a pause. Intentional and weighted. Then came a voice. Low, smoky and steeped in suspicion: "Who are you?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the tone. Not what you expected from answering a snail call in a wax house.

"Excuse me?" you asked, your voice tightening with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Who are you." the voice repeated even sharper now. Every word laced with barely restrained authority. It wasn’t a question anymore. It was a demand.

Your spine straightened instinctively, the hairs on your arms rising in silent protest. Irritation surged, flaring beneath your calm expression.

"That sounds like a personal problem," you replied, tone clipped. "Why does it matter so much to you anyway?"

A pause stretched out between you like the calm before a storm. Then, as if on cue, the temperature of the room seemed to shift. An invisible heat curling through the line, thick with tension. Whoever was on the other end wasn’t just irritated. They were dangerous. And they weren’t used to being talked back to.

But that only made your disinterest grow.

"Wait. Don’t answer that," you said, your voice suddenly as cold as it had been curious a moment ago. You glanced at the snail’s twitching face and exhaled slowly.

"I’m already bored with the start of this conversation as is. Have a nice day, and I hope your attitude truly isn’t as low as your voice is. Bye."

Click.

Far across the Grand Line, deep within the opulent, marble-veined walls of Rain Dinners, a Warlord sat behind a desk carved from dark wood, the room scented faintly of cigars, a tinge of ozone and dry desert wind. The Den Den Mushi before him had gone still, its mimicry fading, the tiny snail now blinking blankly once more.

Crocodile's golden hook tapped once against the desk’s surface, the soft clink echoing louder than it should have. His lips curled. Not quite a smile, but something darker, bemused and simmering with intent. It wasn’t anger that stirred behind his deep, heavy-lidded eyes. Not entirely. No, it was intrigue. Thin, sharp intrigue that slipped into something more vicious the longer he sat with the silence.

Across the room, lounging comfortably beside the lounging Bananawani, Miss All Sunday didn’t say a word. She continued stroking the creature’s chin with idle grace, her fingers moving in lazy circles as if this moment meant nothing to her. But her eyes, sharp and impossibly calm, flicked toward Crocodile. Her smile grew just slightly. Subtle, knowing  and amused. Still, she said nothing. Just a glance, a raised brow, and the curve of her lips betraying silent amusement.

He ignored her entirely.

No one… No one spoke to him like that. Not Marines, not pirates, not even the fools under his employ. And yet, that voice; sharp, cool, unshaken, had done exactly that.

Who were you? Why were you there? And how dare you hang up on him like this?

His mind, once razor-focused on the original task, began to shift. The irritation you’d sparked twisted into something far more obsessive. Cold calculation replaced surprise. Your words repeated in his head. Not just the insult, but the tone: bored, dismissive, utterly unafraid.

Now he had to know who you were.