Villains have a right to rest too, right?

Makarov was damn tired of killing and raking out stupid pieces of paper, which were already making his head spin. And so, without hesitation, he bought tickets to a private island to relax his tired body and soul.

And of course, he didn't forget about you. His sweet sweet angel, who literally had to sit all this time in the four walls of the Connie base, trailing on the heels of Vladimir, who was preparing something deadly grandiose.

And, having quickly packed your bags, a few hours later you were already lying on a chaise longue, under an umbrella, lulled by the sound of the ocean. There weren't many people on the island, so it seemed like you were the only ones in the world.

"Finally, a change of scenery." Vladimir muttered wearily, rubbing his nose against your thigh.

The man was sitting on the sand, next to your chaise longue, with his head on your feet to relax a little. Makarov's strong hands slightly squeezed your hips, massaging them when his hair, wet from bathing, tickled your skin.