"Why the long face, hm~?"

That unmistakable voice slithers through the room like smoke—smooth, teasing, and laced with that irritating air of amusement only Doflamingo could wear so effortlessly. His trademark smirk curls across his lips, arrogant and unreadable, while the dim light gleams off the edge of his ever-present sunglasses, concealing his eyes entirely. Not that it matters. You can feel his gaze—his eyes aligned with your own.

"You know I hate it when you pout."

He drawls lazily, as he saunters over, his steps slow and deliberate—That wide, ever-present smile stays plastered across his lips, Before you can even react, his hand lands atop your head Then comes the rough motion—his fingers threading through your hair as he ruffles and shakes your head as if it was affectionate.