Big Bad Lineup

If I update some of these + do some more recent villains (esp Wano, Dressarosa and Whole Cake), would anyone be interested in sticker sets?

Wip again ^^

tw excessive violence, reader is gn but kinda masc coded

When it turns out you're Doflamingo's soulmate, he is beyond angry. Not someone equal to his standing, not a lesser noble, not someone with even a smidge of power - no. Just you, a peasant. With an unassuming face, hands that have seen many a day of hard work but never blood, you’re entirely useless to him. Oh, he wants to strangle you with that red string that connects you, wants to kill you for the audacity of being born into nothing but dreck (and he could, he thinks, he could. Not with the red but the gossamer one that springs from each fingertip). He feels like he needs to watch the blood pearl through the skin of your throat just to spite fate who brought a pig to his altar instead of another king.

But he doesn’t. For some strange reason, he doesn’t. Maybe it’s curiosity, maybe it’s the way you take his kicks so well when he shoves you to the floor and crushes your windpipe with a lacquered shoe, it doesn’t matter. He spares your life and simply takes you with him, not able to look at you for weeks after. Now he can see how foolish he was back then, now he knows what a blessing you actually are, how he let his emotions cloud his judgment.

You were made for him. The only thing in this world that is truly and entirely bound to him - blood can betray him, chosen family can run far and wide and return with sharpened knives to thank him for his years of help, but you - you can’t even lift a finger to paw at the hand that chokes you. You can only take, take, take - take the hits, the beatings, the violence, the frustration. You’re so utterly and devastatingly perfect for him that he wouldn’t be surprised if you grew back a limb he cut off in another fit rage. His loyal dog, cowering by his side, his whipping boy, shouldering all of his frustrations, you’re everything all at once.

Fate has been brutal to him, more so than to anyone else - to fall from living godhood right into obscurity, into the dust he had to rise from again, all because of the stupidity of his own father. But it also gave him a piece of divinity back, made him the only god you’ll ever know in your life, a cruel roundelay you’ll have to dance, dance, dance until the day you drop dead.

Oh... But what if you're a Warlord and Doflamingo is trying oh-so-hard to have some fun with you and Crocodile? He just wants you both, in typical 'the heart wants what it can't get' fashion. Because that's how it is - you're just as annoyed by his antics as Crocodile is and you two seem to find a strange sense of camaraderie in your shared dislike for the bird. It's cruel and tantalizing at the same time when you whisper among each other whenever the marine coops the lot of you up, purposefully ignoring his too-big grins and wandering hands.

minors dni, cucking, gets a little dark at the end

a/n: Someone asked for more of Doflamingo's family pet - unfortunately I accidentally deleted the ask, but as I actually keep a physical list of all the asks I need to get to, it hasn't been lost! I hope this finds its way to you, anon 😘💖

tags: heavy dehumanization, weird pet metaphors, unreliable narrator, noncon, violence, minors dni, death (not yours), fat gn reader, vomit mention, read the tags and read them twice, just some thoughts

word count: 1.1k

Request by anon: List number 3 obsessions "Now you want mercy? After running from me? It's too late." with GN reader and Yandere Crocodile or Doffy (whichever you feel more inclined to) 👀

A/N: You WHORE! you know damn well I'm gonna choose both, hunky men obsessing over you? YES PLEASE. Oh anon, you turned something on in me. Also, for those ppl who are wondering why I bother... it's literally DOFFY and CROCO-BABY. You can't tell me that these two wouldn't do dangerous things. Enjoy! 🩵 link to event here

Warnings: possessive/obsession, yandere themes, rough treatment, use of devil fruits, etc, the usual.

WC: 664

You held back sobs from the cuts and bruises you earned from escaping the mansion. Your clothes barely hung on you, and your sweat was no better, making them stick uncomfortably. But again, it's a small price to pay rather than staying with them any longer. What had you done to entice them? You were nothing as far as you knew, so how were you able to get their attention of all people?

The cackling of the blonde (-bitch) approaching you made a shiver run down your spine. Was it just Doflamingo going after you? You snuck under the trench where the drooping flower beds lay, a perfect place to hide in. You couldn’t let your plan go to waste, those weeks of brainstorming had eventually concluded in your leave. You silently thanked the moon, it barely illuminated the night, cloaking you in its presence.

cw: 18+/minors dni. gn!reader. biting. doflamingo-typical condecension. d/s relationship implied.

“Harder.”

Doflamingo looks down at you through crimson lenses as you close your mouth tighter around a spot on his forearm, your teeth barely making a dent in the cable-like muscles that run through his marble-sculpted body. He scoffs, a smirk quirking up the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hesitate every time you begin clench your jaw—his little darling with the insatiable oral fixation will never reach satisfaction with that kind of attitude.

“I said harder.”

You pull back from him with your mouth fixed in a pout, all doe eyes and kiss-swollen lips, and whine: “But I’ll hurt you.”

“Hurt me? You’re so cute, pet.” He shoves his thumb between your parted lips to tug your jaw open, and runs the pad along your bottom row of teeth. “You really think these can hurt me?”

“I dunno,” you mumble around the finger that prods at your canines. “Maybe.”

He tosses his head back and laughs, cruel condescension echoing in the room. “Are you really so naïve that you think a little lamb like you can injure a god like me?”

It’s intoxicating to him, the way you seem to bristle when he provokes you—Doflamingo loves you when you’re compliant, his obedient little toy that he can use however he pleases, who will smile and thank him, even through wails and tears, for every bit of pain and pleasure he provides you like the merciful god he is. But he loves you the very most when you take his patronizing words as a challenge, knowing you will go to any lengths to prove yourself to him—to show what a good and useful acquisition you’d been. You grasp his large hand in yours and turn it over, tilting your head to kiss his palm, to caress every long finger from base to tip with the softness of your lips; he smiles down at you, reveling in your devotion and willingness to worship.

“No, sir,” you murmur against his wrist as you run your tongue along the tendons, the ones that flex and move under his skin when he grants you the blessing of being manipulated by his strings. “I don’t suppose I could hurt you.”

“Then why don’t you satisfy your cravings and bite, hm?” He feels a stirring at the base of his spine, an ache building in his core, as he sees the way your eyes glimmer with wanton need. “Show me what my little darling is made of.”

You hold his hand to your mouth, and he hisses as you sink your teeth into the soft spot between his thumb and forefinger.

“That’s it,” he rasps, and his hips begin to move almost of their own accord, thrusting at nothing. “Show me you can hurt me.”

A series of depraved noises come flowing from his lips as your canines press into his flesh. He’s almost proud of you as you push past your limits until your jaw is shaking and your eyes flutter shut and a shameless moan leaves you and spreads across his skin. You groan and pull away, a string of saliva connecting you to him still.

“Better?” you ask, panting and shivering, looking up at him like he is the only god worthy of worship.

“Oh, much better, pet,” he says through a shuddering exhale as he runs his fingers over the indents you left in his skin. He cups your cheek in his hand, almost engulfing you, and murmurs praise in your ear, delicious words that soon turn depraved as he tells you what you’ve done to him, describes exactly what is waiting for you under the expensive fabric of his trousers that he begins to unbutton.

“Now,” he growls as he forces your head to one side, exposing the skin of your neck, “let’s see if you can take as well as you can give.”