Doflamingo x [Marine] Reader-Friend Zone

XIII: Hold your tongue

OMG! IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

Dedicated to @bloodredrose997, Agent_Rose117, @ChaosdeGodys, and Cranbeer, and Reis 😆

It was so shocking, so unexpected, so elusive from its revelation, that even your senses had been knocked senseless—your eyesight blurs and the sounds of the world collapse to muffled silence. The background withers bleak, like faded oil painting. And for now, only the sense of touch and smell, especially your touch  was dominating you and that was all that was a matter currently. You can smell his manly scent, mild feathers and the smell of skin that had lived on the comforts of luxury and of course, the saltiness of your battle. You feel the edges of your ears and cheeks cultivate unbearable heat, and it takes a while to savvy the meaning of 'blushing'.

You can only stare at the sea of smooth red glossing over your reflection and you wonder if his eyes are open...his curves glasses blocking his emotions, creating an unpredictable and inhuman creature, surrounding your understanding.

His lips are soft on yours but he presses and closer and the pressure is harsher. A slick wet muscle, his warm tongue, scrapes your dry lips and there was the impulse to punch him but there was none of that when easily dissolves; shivers craze and rampage, ensuring your place into a frozen and unresponsive state. Your eyes widen in reaction and you part your lips in order to say something, but no word left but a weak shaky breath and an empty pride. But you also gave up an entrance and he breached it, sliding his tongue inside, past your lips and teeth.

He was so hot, everywhere, from the searing tips of his nails digging to your wrist and his tongue starting its exploration and the heat you both excluded, abysmal brilliance you fall upon.

He yanked your hand roughly back and because of the strength waning from your knees, you were pulled in easily and pulled closer until your knees knocked on him, forcing you forward to lean into his support. A hand lands gently on your nape, urging you forward and you are flatly pressed on him, his hard abs and upper torso, with your hands still hanging by your sides.

Closer now, your mouths seal tight and his tongue makes contact with yours. You flinch from the wet contact as he gropes and curls around yours but you don't ever move, remaining a statue. But that seemed the wiser choice, letting him maneuver skillfully with his dominance, wonderful vibrations inside your kissing compartment rumbling from his throat, much like an approving murmur. A wash of mint and probably a tang of fine wine, considering you two didn't eat anything. You weren't alcoholic or like that, but he was the most similar to alcohol, intoxicating and drowsing, even if a small part of you is obfuscate.

Parting but with your bottom lips still resting in contact, you just noticed your burning lungs as you gasped for breath. It was not nearly enough before his tongue skid on your lip and he grounded the seal back, firming his hold on you arm and neck, but not as painful. The tongue created disorienting scribbles, running your teeth, curling around your tongue and just everywhere, leaving not a fraction of sensitive flesh. Poison wildly amock in its toxic influence.

Drowned in the hot churning pools of gratified—and rebellious—emotions, you suddenly felt the intimate heat depart as he pulled away, a string of clear saliva shining the connection before it was cut by the distance, and you instantly felt so cold, if not, empty, regretting the  loss of heat and not responding to it.

You pull your hand free, but that didn't seem necessary, because his fingers were already slipping from your touch, ever so gently. He was staring down at you and you stared at him back, your features in shock but smoothed by your worry if you were enough to be something near to satisfying. No words prompt you to speak, and your eyes just sparkled, speaking for you, for at least a reaction.

Half of your worry was chased away as his lips curl to a half-smirk at you, and you observed a nature of softness—if that was truly what you comprehended—before he turned his back on you. You stare at his back longer than expected, before he was walking the distance and you watched him silently, soft pink feathers rustling and strands of short hair waving with the cool breeze. The wind swooshes, the only maker of sound to the hollowed silence.

Your eyes reflect his retreating figure half-way before being reminded of the lost time and the need for your aid. You flutter your wings to outstretch massive, before you turn and run and leap, launching yourself into the air. Flapping your golden wings, you are lifted up from the wave crashing below. The wings straighten in structure and you are steadily flying in the air, your face erased from distorting expressions, but there was more to it as emotions floated about inside—and you're not sure anymore.

All your mind could think about was him—his scent, his taste, his hot impact and force, and not to mention, he was a good kisser even if you didn't completely take part. Obviously, he had a lot of people, with their availabilities.

Did he mean it? Or did he just do it, out of impulse, tactical decision or appreciation? You didn't know, and this was truly horrifying, with your lack of knowledge and understanding in this  unexplored field of intimacy. Trouble consumes you, your heart beating twice its normal rate, your mind swinging from its focus on the fine arts of professional thinking, and into recreational distraction. If he was using these kind of actions against you, then you are open from all sides and you were nothing but vulnerable, and so weak. Weak, you hated that word. This was the sort of advantage only he had been able to compromise, that none other was able to. What did the battalion of a world or masses of enemies matter, when just one was able to penetrate your walls and defenses?

No corner to turn to.

No safe direction—when you had always moved forward.

And no clear escape.

And unpredictable in all causes.

Blind, deaf, and possibly, defeated.

Guys, I promise to make better kissing scenes or say, hotter scenes between you—us...(But I don't think we're into the idea of sharing him, I am definitely ain't)...and Doflamingo. It all depends on my mood and situations and I write this over squealing like the mad person 😝 I am just by looking at his fan pictures. 😄. Kudos to the artists!