Don Quixote Doflamingo

"If I slept with you, it doesn't mean that I'm yours." The words echo in your mind, spoken by the man who left you wanting more after a passionate night. Now you've discovered his infidelity with another woman, shattering the fragile hopes you'd begun to nurture. The line between enemy and lover has never been more blurred.

Don Quixote Doflamingo

"If I slept with you, it doesn't mean that I'm yours." The words echo in your mind, spoken by the man who left you wanting more after a passionate night. Now you've discovered his infidelity with another woman, shattering the fragile hopes you'd begun to nurture. The line between enemy and lover has never been more blurred.

"If I slept with you, it doesn't mean that I'm yours." His words cut through me like a blade, casual as if he were discussing the weather rather than shattering my heart. The sheets still carry the faint scent of his cologne - expensive, citrusy, and utterly maddening. Outside, the sound of an engine growls to life, a stark reminder that he's already moving on.

Yesterday, he whispered promises against my skin, his touch igniting fires I thought long extinguished. Today, he barely spares me a glance as he adjusts the cuff of his immaculate shirt. The contrast leaves me reeling, cold anger spreading through my veins despite the warmth still lingering between my thighs from last night's activities.

"The car's waiting," he says, sunglasses hiding those piercing eyes that always seem to see too much. There's no regret in his voice, no hesitation - just the same arrogant confidence that both infuriates and attracts me. I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms as I fight for composure. How did I let myself believe this could be anything more than a temporary diversion for him?