Op Doflamingo - Blog Posts

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1 month ago

Strings in Crimson

When our enigmatic Y/n accidentally lands in Dressrosa, it sets off a chain of chaos, power displays, and dangerously intoxicating tension with Donquixote Doflamingo.

PART 2 OF READER WHO CAN USE THE INFINITY STONES

doflamingo x reader ౨ৎ💗 ONE SHOT

main characters: doflamingo

tags: sfw, v!ol3nce

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only so expect this ff cringe and oc

words count: 786

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

Dressrosa was too bright.

Even from the moment you stepped onto the sun-bleached cobblestones, the place reeked of forced cheer. Laughter too loud, colors too vibrant. Like a festival that refused to end. You hated it immediately.

You’d landed by accident — or as close to an accident as someone like you could. Space liked to rip when you snapped your fingers too hard. One careless flick, a shimmer of stars, and there you were. Smack in the middle of the city square while a nearby woman screamed about her missing child.

You sighed.

A blonde in pink feathers clocked you instantly. It was impossible not to. Tall and lean, Donquixote Doflamingo practically radiated threat.

“Fufufufu~ well, well,” he crooned from above, perched like a smug vulture on a balcony. “A new face. And what a face.”

You didn’t answer. Not out of caution. You just didn’t care.

Instead, you turned a nearby pigeon into a tiny floating star just to see if you could.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Doflamingo’s grin sharpened.

In a blur, he appeared before you, a slash of color and power.

“Name,” he demanded.

“Y/n.”

“Devil Fruit user?”

“No.”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “Then what the hell are you? fufufufu~”

You glanced at the ground. It cracked under your gaze, spreading like glass under a hammer.

“Complicated.”

A chuckle. Low, dangerous. “I like complicated.”

He brought you to his palace. You let him. Not because you trusted him, but because you were bored.

His executives bristled. Trebol whined about taking in strays, Pica rumbled disapproval, Diamante preened. You ignored them all. Your presence was a storm in still air, and they felt it, even if they didn’t understand why.

“Test them,” Doflamingo ordered, one hand languidly swirling wine.

Buffalo charged first.

You didn’t move.

A thought, and space folded. He disappeared with a yelp, reappearing upside down, tangled in the palace’s chandelier.

Gladius tried next.

You blinked. His exploding fists paused mid-detonation, the tiny fragments suspended in mid-air.

“Cute trick,” you murmured, then rewound time by a second, leaving him disoriented and vomiting from vertigo.

The room fell silent.

Doflamingo leaned forward, interest gleaming.

“You could kill them all.”

You shrugged. “Could.”

“And me?”

A small, crooked smile tugged at your lips. “Wouldn’t be polite.”

He laughed. A real one. Not the shrill cackle, but something darker, lower.

“You’re mine now.”

“No.”

“Eventually.”

You poured yourself a drink, letting reality bend just slightly to fill the glass from a bottle across the room.

Weeks passed.

You became a ghost in the palace, appearing where you pleased, vanishing when bored. You rewound time to catch falling glasses, bent space to avoid dull conversations. The staff flinched when you passed. Doflamingo watched you with something dangerous, something almost fond.

He’d invite you to dinners you rarely attended. When you did, it was chaos.

Once, a rival warlord visited. He made the mistake of grabbing your wrist.

You didn’t react.

He blinked — and found himself standing in the middle of the sea, a thousand yards offshore.

Doflamingo’s grin nearly split his face.

“That was a gift,” he told you later, eyes gleaming.

You shrugged. “Didn’t like him.”

Neither did Doflamingo.

Trouble came in the form of a foreign warlord and a double-crossed deal. Not one for subtlety, the fool marched right into Dressrosa’s palace with a small army and a head full of bad ideas.

You found Doflamingo in the gardens, pristine and grinning, standing atop a mound of broken bodies like a crimson-clad god, not a scratch on him as enemies circled, too stupid to realize their doom.

“Care for a hand?” you asked mildly.

He bared his teeth in a grin. “Thought you’d never offer.”

You raised a hand. Reality convulsed.

Half the enemy force vanished into a pocket dimension of black nothingness. The rest scrambled, confusion thick in the air.

One bold lieutenant lunged. You tilted your head, and the man’s soul flickered visibly from his body — a ghostly echo you plucked between your fingers like a thread and snapped.

Doflamingo whistled, low. "You are a vicious thing."

“I get bored.”

Within minutes, the garden was a graveyard of twisted perceptions — enemies trapped in loops of false victories, others suspended mid-air like grotesque marionettes.

You dusted off your coat. "Clean enough?"

Doflamingo stepped over a dying man, his grin sharp and fond. “Marry me.”

“Pass."

He chuckled, licking blood from his teeth. "You’ll come around."

You would, maybe. Or not.

But for now, you flexed space one last time, leaving the remnants of the coup in a shivering bubble of frozen time, an unbroken reminder of what it meant to cross either of you.