#original entertainment paradise

[not-equippedforthis]

spock's brain s3e1

[ginnysgraffiti]

Paul Atreides x reader? Where the reader does not believe in the prophecy of the Lisan-al-Gaib or in any god or Messiah that they say will come, to which Paul is interested in her but also feels anger because the reader does not show fear or submission, and when inquiring about why she has no faith in anything she reads or gods is because she went through many horrible things and when she prayed for it to be a nightmare but it never happened, and that's why she believes in nothing but herself.

thanks for the request! sorry if i hadn't answered before :(

PAUL ATREIDES x yn.

your people lived on arrakis under one name: the fremen. people who have inhabited arrakis for many millennia, originally arriving after an interplanetary diaspora.

your planet became the center of immense interests of the empire following the discovery of the powerful drug called melange or spice, capable of significantly extending the length of human life and increasing.

you have been trained in guerrilla warfare since childhood, reason why you're considered among the best fighters in the universe, the only ones capable of holding your own against even the emperor's ferocious sardaukar.

people can comfortably call you interstellar nomads who follow a particular philosophy, people who live together in desert tents and who are more like a big big family or army.

therefore, you don't hide the fact that you get along very well, despite the fact that fremen have challenging, ambitious characters, and you often want to prove our superiority by fighting or calling sandworms.

if someone has already heard the famous prophecy "blessed be the creator and his water" well, that's you, these are the fremen. that's your prophecy or the thing people think you believe in. or at least, your people believe in.

you worship shai-hulud, the sand worm, a gigantic and dangerous creature that populates the deserts of arrakis and is the source of the spice cycle. your religion, like almost all those of the primitive worlds of the empire, was profoundly influenced by the bene gesserit missionaria protectiva.

if you ask stilgar, he will answer you by saying he believes in the arrival of the messiah, of the lisan al-gaib. so please, don't ask stilgar.

lisan al-gaib, in your fremen language, "the voice from the outside world".

in later use the name messiah specializes to indicate the "anointed one" par excellence, sent as a savior of the fremen, the chosen people, and to turn the desert into the green paradise it used to be. this is how stilgar would happily explain it to others.

bullshit.

the biggest lie you've ever heard.

you have waited ages for the messiah, and the only conclusion you managed to get was that even foreign people made fun of you all by saying they were the famous messiah you had been waiting for. really funny, right...

"the walker of the golden path" they say, just they don't know how much you have suffered or how different you feel about your people's adamant beliefs.

you know paul since a few weeks, and you hated every second of it, and you knew he did too.

at first you avoided him, dodged him or threatened him with your eyes as if he were an harkonnen. or, if you were in a bad mood, you ignored him completely, especially when he entertained stilgar with inappropriate and absolutely not funny jokes but that made the whole for-dinner-tent laugh.

you knew that everyone was at his feet, that they would even lick the sand he walked on.

you often heard your fremen friends talking or chatting about him, and you could have sworn some of them even wondered out loud of it would be to have sex with him.

you had never thought of paul as someone to have sex with, mostly because you hated him on principle.

for the first week you loved showing off your fighting moves when he looked, or throwing barbs at him to shut him up.

you knew that he was intimidated but also angry towards you, that he was curious about your people, and therefore you could show yourself superior anyway. you wanted to crush it like a desert fly and rejoice while it dies under your sole.

then, everything changed.

it was afternoon, and the wind was gently blowing, but not enough to make the sand rise.

he was a little too snuggled up next to you, on the highest dune you could reach from the fremen camp.

at first, you didn't even like the idea of starting a conversation, but paul was the one who talked first.

he told you about his visions first, about his nightmare correlated, about the mental torture he had to kneel upon when he used to live on caladan, because everyone thought he was the kwisatz haderach.

he told you about his training, his father's death and how he felt so alone, abandoned by the little people he loved and betrayed by the ones he barely knew.

something about it woke up a new feeling inside your chest. you felt understood.

and he was not there forcing you to go on your knees and pray the messiah and his rise to power.

he was simply chatting, his eyes almost tearing, playing with some sand in his right hand.

he wanted to understand you, to understand why you were the only one who refused to believe the prophecy and yet the only one who captured your attention.

your mind returned to the morning where a few of your friends wished to have sex with him, but right in that moment, when the sun was melting under the dunes, far away, you could only wonder how plump and soft his lips could become against yours.

that same evening, you got confirmed paul atreides was the best kisser you had ever known.

in your tent, with a slight scent of spice and body

skin and sweat, he held you close as if you were

his only lifeline, as if you were about to become

small microscopic grains of sand, and he would no longer be able to hold the right ones in his hands.

you stood there, under his slim and perfect body, stroking his curls in a slow and sleepy gesture, until he closed his eyes and let his cheek rest against your breasts.

messiah or not, you believe he was the love of your life.

[ckret2]

Conspiracy theories are an important part of the series' identity, what's wrong with them? Some have nasty implications if you really overthink it, but they're generally fun

I didn't say I'm not gonna include conspiracy theories in the story altogether. I said I'm not validating any REAL WORLD conspiracy theories, and I'm not talking about antisemitic & racist conspiracy theories. I'm happy to crack jokes debunking or mocking real world conspiracy theories. I'm happy to create new conspiracy theories for the fic that are totally divorced from any existing conspiracy theories.

But when I'm talking about the ones I'm not playing with, I ain't talking about "Elvis is still alive" conspiracies here. With a lot of the most oft-referenced goofy-sounding high profile conspiracy theories, they're not nasty "if you really overthink it." These theories are, in their very origins, vehicles for hatred toward minority groups. Browse for a while. Notice how many of the conspiracies that have ridiculous traits that make them seem fun on the surface are past the antisemitic point of no return.

Secret reptilian overlords disguised as humans? A deliberate effort to disguise centuries-old antisemitic conspiracies. "Jews secretly control the world," "Jews help others of their bloodline gain & maintain power," "Jews drink the blood of Christian children"—blood libel is a thing that real people believe and have believed for centuries and has historically been used to justify killing whole Jewish communities—and the exact rhetoric used in these obviously antisemitic claims was reskinned for the "reptilian overlords" conspiracy. And which real people do you think believers in the conspiracy disproportionately accuse of secretly being cold-blooded inhuman monsters trying to disguise themselves amongst normal humans? Reptilian overlords is a popular one to make jokes about because "the president's a lizard in disguise" sounds funny when stripped of context—and typically the people making jokes either don't know where it came from or don't care.

Hell, the entire "a cabal of Jewish people sorry we meant 'global elites' secretly rules the world" is one of the oldest, most versatile, and most popular of antisemetic conspiracy theories.

And check out some of the more ridiculous-sounding ones that pop culture likes making jokes about.

Hollow Earth? That one's "inside the earth is a paradise populated by Vikings (the manliest white people!) and Nazis. Yay Nazis!" A whole bunch of secret continent/secret moon colony/hidden geography conspiracies are very "yay Nazis". The Illuminati secretly control everything? For approximately a century, "Jews + Freemasons + Illuminati control the world" has been an extremely prominent conspiracy theory that's branched off into countless other conspiracy theories still believed today (it fed into the reptilian overlord conspiracy, for instance). Adrenochrome? Hollywood (and other "global elites") are trafficking children to harvest a chemical from their blood that they can inject? This is literally just blood libel again. Satanic Panic, the idea that there are real Satanic cults sacrificing children left and right, and the goofy things resulting from the panic like Chick Tracts claiming D&D will damn you? Innocent people were sent to jail for murder because they were gothy enough to be accused of Satanism. People (including the right's favorite targets: immigrants and queer people!) spent decades in jail over accusations that they were ritualistically sexually abusing children—crimes that never even happened. Even less directly harmful shit like "aliens built the pyramids" is only possible if you begin from a position of assuming it's more likely ALIENS built the pyramids than that ancient African people were capable of doing it and then ignore the fact that we do know how the damn things were built.

I don't think it's entertaining for a fictional story to go "hey, you know this conspiracy that was created to promote prejudice against minorities and has been used to hurt and kill people? Wouldn't it be sooo silly if there were a world where it's actually TRUE?? Wouldn't it be so funny if the antisemites and racists and homophobes and fascists were right about everything?"

So no. I'm not gonna use a fictional setting to validate any real world conspiracies; and I'm not gonna bring a whiff of antisemitic & racist conspiracies into a goofy comedy setting.

[alligatorcowboyboots]

Hello, I love your blog and your creations. Maybe it's bold but I have a big artistic crush on your Skate-A-Rama Roller Rink and I wanted to ask you if you'll consider sharing it ? It would be amazing. :)

✨ Skate-A-Rama Roller Rink Download

Here you go! A roller rink with entertainment for sims of all ages including food, a bar, a photo booth, arcade games, foosball, and karaoke.

Original post with photos here

Details:

CC free 30x40 tiles Price: $81,585 Lot Type: Hangout

Packs required:

EPs: World Adventures, Ambitions, Late Night, Generations, Pets, Showtime, Supernatural, Seasons, University Life, Island Paradise, Into the Future (All) *no stuff packs used*

Download (SFS)

Download (MEGA)

[quinnred]

Halo 4 Reimagining - Perdition Visual concept for the Perditions, a reimagining of the Prometheans of Halo 4 based me and my brother's thought exercises.

The artificial Forerunner world of Requiem was a paradise to be enjoyed at leisure, an entirely modular geography and biosphere allowing it's three managerial AIs to please it's creators. Upon the true horrors of the Flood coming to light, Requiem's purpose was changed to one of experimentation. The managerial AIs were given the goal of discovering and exploring strategies that may make their creators immune or unappealing to the parasitic scourge. They were given near complete reign over any and all Forerunner's within Requiem and were locked within their shield world until their masters returned. The boldest and potentially successful operation was Perdition, a project involving a hybrid of sentinel robotics and engineer nanotechnology to create replacement bodies for subject Forerunners. Volunteers were not even considered, with random selection of the civilian populous for conversion. The process involved gradual cell-by-cell replacement of subject body matter with engineer materials, the sentinel mechanics acting as the exo and endoskeleton of the body and protected vital parts. Perdition subjects would be homed in the pleasure facility Idyll Halja, where the Trinity supplied them a glut of stimuli to occupy these immortals for millennia under observation. This only entertained a few hundred years, their technological processing information far faster than their original human bodies. What followed was an eternity of boredom and eventual madness, with suicide in these regenerating forms and true reproduction being impossible. The Perditions would devolve and shift culturally as they tore each other apart and remade themselves, bastardizing their forms into ghostly gravity manipulating monstrosities. Unable to develop into the Meta-Stability stage of their rampancy due to their confines, the Perditions had been tunneling into and hacking Idyll Halja in attempts to breakout into the rest of Requiem. The Trinity AIs were forced to quarantine Idyll Halja deep into the bowels of Requiem and have been in constant digital warfare with their experiments. The Perdition's aggression has been so overwhelming that many other managerial duties of the Trinity have been shunned. Lord help any who may find their way into the Perdition's den.

[amazzyblaze]

Got to chat with Dean Devlin about Electric Con today. Some highlights include:

The plan is for the convention to bus people to the Leverage: Redemption NoLa HQ set for an immersive in-person experience/walk-through

They're planning to bring in a lot more cast members once schedules are finalized

There will possibly be a live stunt show, as well as actors performing together in a band (at the convention itself)

He said that they've created "four different characters" for Christian Kane to play, which possibly implies that the new Jake Stone is a distinct character from his original one on The Librarians?

There's nothing solid on a third season of Almost Paradise just yet, but they're in deep talks working to try to make it happen

Electric Now will be live-streaming certain events from the convention floor for people who can't make it in person, and they'll also be filming content for specials on the convention

If it's successful, Creation Entertainment wants to set up other Electric Cons in the future, not just around the U.S. but possibly globally as well

[deepseaspriteblog]

pleaseeeee drop more info on the new fanspecies if you have any i would love to jane/jaye-ify them

Sure! I went ahead and typed down all my ideas for them but it's all very vague and not yet set in stone. Still, if you want to try your hand at making any of them, you're definitely welcomed to!

I made a base for it too! You can use these to make them, or for any other reason, just credit me if you do.

alt link

Lore dump under read more!

Baphomet 

Lore: All of them have magic and instead of a traditional family, Baphomets are raised in covens, with kids usually being grouped together like the girls in Madeleine. They’re taken care of by a priest (of any gender), who is helped by deacons (also of any gender). They are ruled by the High Priest (usually female). They are sensitive to light and live in ruins. They’re secretive and vaguely sinister, but also very polite. A respectful attitude is very important for Baphomets. 

Their naming conventions are 4 letters, a hyphen, and a three letter surname (eg: Rose-Lal, Kana-Mar Neta-Lei, etc.), . Though the relationship between parent and child isn’t given much focus (since children are raised by coven leaders instead), Baphomets take their birthgiver’s surname. 

Appearance: they all have that same color scheme, though perhaps in differing shades? Their horns are always goat-like but the shape can differ. They have goat-like eyes, too, with bright pink scleras. They have long tails and cat-like noses.

They have little flames atop their heads like a weird halo- it’s mostly harmless, though when a Baphomet is straining their magical energy the flames can grow out of control and become larger. It is said that a Baphomet who is overwhelmed with hatred and power will be consumed by their own flames. In its default form, however, all it does is glow harmlessly. It disappears when a Baphomet is sleeping or dead. 

Their symbols are geometric, runelike shapes that are always mainly pink with a white accent. 

Tengu 

Lore: A pretty mundane fanspecies, all things considered. They’re not that different from humans socially or culturally. Harpies and Tengus (and perhaps some other bird based fanspecies I may create in the future) are thought to be descended from a common ancestor, though the tengus have their own myths/beliefs. They like tall areas though and are often from mountainous regions. They may or may not be able to fly once they reach maturity, I haven’t made up my mind, though if they do I;m sure the harpies are mad about it since they can’t. 

Naming convention is undecided, though I’m gonna go with six letter first names for now.

Appearance: They have the wings of a crow and the ears of a dog. They have golden scleras like the trolls and facial markings inspired by kabuki performances, so they’re mostly red but other colors can be used as well. As for their hair color… I’m a bit torn if they all have blue hair or if they have differing hair colors. You can decide if you want! 

Their symbols are pretty much just fankid symbols, but with two colors.

Harpy 

Lore: According to Harpy mythology, they once had wings that were big enough to soar across the sky and never get tired. They believe that the original harpies were created to be entertainers for their God, but they grew greedy and prideful and tried to fly to Paradise and steal God’s riches. In retaliation, God took away the Harpy’s most prized possession- their wings, so that they would not be able to fly again. Realizing their mistake, the Harpies begged for forgiveness and wished for their wings to return… Which it did, but in much smaller form- no longer than a human’s arm, and certainly not big enough to fly for anymore. And so, the modern harpy is with wings that cannot fly. 

Dancing is a very big deal for harpies, and they have a variety of traditional dances, and many of their folk stories are told through the art of dance. 

Appearance: In addition to their facial markings, Harpies also tend to have body markings. Shoulders are most common but it can appear anywhere. 

As for color, the harpy I made had her color scheme lifted right off of Feng Huang from SMT, but I think any bright color is possible. Hair color tends to be dark, but not always. Antennae feather thing is usually gold though, as is their hands and feet that have that bird skin (I think they’re called scutes?). Speaking of feet, they’ve got clawed feet and thick soles so they don’t wear shoes, but some of them wrap their feet for a little extra protection. 

Naming convention is 4 letter first names and surnames ranging from 3 to 5 letters. 

Their symbols are troll-like.

[snowandglasslabyrinth]

Damn, the Velma show really sucks. All the characters seem wrong and one-dimensional. There’s nothing funny, I genuinely laughed once and it’s because sarcasm gets me always. Also, specifically it was Velma’s line after climbing the wall to perform a break and enter into Fred’s family’s mansion.

Velma is painfully mediocre as a character, she is contradictory and evidently treats people poorly, laughs in Norville’s face when he says he has a crush on her, and just seemed really mean and poorly written. I also really hate the fat phobic jokes. That’s not right, it’s not funny, it’s just in poor taste and mean. Having it so that she eats french fries out of the garbage is insulting and just pointless. She’s got some massive crush on Fred cause he’s ‘hot’, she’s fairly shallow as a character but loves to point out (see ep. 2) that all the other characters are shallow. People in her school think she’s ugly until she wears revealing clothing, then everyone pays attention to her - in my humble but angry opinion that is a bad message to spread to young adults and teens.

Norville is a whole case, the drug references and jokes are neither funny nor entertaining and after his ridiculous and clunky line about being anti-drugs early in the first episode he pauses as if the audience needs a moment to laugh. It was awful. I get that it’s meant to be a play on the idea that Shaggy was a stoned character but that doesn’t mean it’s funny.

Daphne is vapid, and she’s always been a little bit vain (the stereotypical girl character to an extent because in the original series she was a round character full of depth) but in the show she has become a high schooler obsessed with sex who treats everyone horrifically. The obsession with sex is a thing for all of the highschool girls in the show, I don’t know who had that kind of experience in highschool but I certainly didn’t so it feels uncomfortable and inappropriate (also feels like that because they anime bubble censor a bunch of naked teenage highschool girls as they talk about sex in tv, that shouldn’t have been allowed.)

Fred is just a douche. I mean I know that’s a choice that the writers made but I strongly hate who he’s become (and yes I know I’m supposed to hate him but I think it’s supposed to be because he’s a jerk not just because he’s poorly written uninteresting and a man child that acts like a stereotypical ‘macho’ man). And the amount of times he calls himself a ‘puss’ is annoying and, unfortunately for the show, still not funny, so only sarcasm points for comedy right now.

Some side character notes: Velma’s dad’s girlfriend is an awful and boring stereotype. The show leans on cliches and stereotypes heavily I.e. any character in that show practically. The other students are boring and not memorable. There’s a moment where Fred stands up for Velma and accidentally cuts a student’s foot off, reminiscent of the comedy in those bad adult cartoons that are overpopulating Netflix right now (Paradise PD, Hoops (is that what it’s called?) and others). If I didn’t mention other characters it’s because I don’t remember they exist.

Okay tl;dr the show sucks, it’s not funny, I loved Scooby Doo as a kid so this hurts me, I hate what they’ve done with the characters.

So, I know I usually don’t make my own posts or write reviews but I literally got 10 minutes into the second episode and had to stop because it was bad, very bad. The first episode was bad enough but I thought I would torture myself and then I gave up because I just couldn’t anymore. Thanks for reading all of this if you have, and don’t watch Velma.

:)

[osamusriceballs]

The Accident - Part XII

Atsumu x fem reader

Warnings: Kissing, mentions of an affair

Words: ~ 1,8 k

About: Problems in paradise.

Part I II -> Next Part

You're about to kiss Atsumu Miya.

You feel his lips brushing against yours, a feather-light touch that makes you hesitate and freeze. He stays still, not pulling back, but his eyes slightly open when he senses you're not moving further. Your faces are only inches apart, your breath meeting his lips when you exhale shakily and a shiver runs down your spine when you feel his lips brush against yours again. A frown clouds his face, and he suddenly tilts his chin, pressing his lips harder against yours, coaxing you to join in and to come closer. Your breath catches before you surrender to the kiss, the tension between you rising as you slowly move your lips with his.

You barely notice his hand in your hair as a he guides your face to his direction, deepening the kiss effectively while his lips move ever so gently against yours. Your hands come to rest on his chest, warmth radiating through his shirt and you can feel his heart beating strongly under your palm. Every thought vanishes when he opens his lips, his tongue brushing against yours, making you gasp a little at the sudden action and you willingly open your lips for him. Your fingers tightly grip his shirt, and his other hand hesitates on your side before wrapping around you firmly when he notices that you make no attempt to back off, and he pulls you closer until you're caged against his chest.

Your body feels ablaze, mind hazy and your thoughts foggy, as the kiss intensifies. You're barely able to catch your breath in between the kisses, but you're both not willing to pull back, but instead get lost in each other's taste. A tingling sensation runs through your body, heat building between your legs and you slightly press your legs together to relieve some tension. A part of you wants to feel more of him, to sit on his lap to press yourself harder against his body while you keep on kissing him. Does he feel the same?

His movements slow down, and he pulls back, effectively ending the kiss between you. His face lingers close, wide pupils, reddened cheeks, and a teasing lick over his lips draws your eyes downwards. You almost lean in for another kiss, your whole body feeling like its on fire and singing with need for him. His arms release you, creating distance, and you quickly withdraw your hands from his body and scoot back to your original place, almost sitting on Atsumu's phone while you do so.

"I think that's... sufficient for the dare." He clears his throat, his voice a bit raspy, and you nod with a strained laugh. For the dare. It's just an entertaining game for him- and now things are getting awkward.

"Uhm, yeah. But uh... it's kind of getting late? I think I should go." You quickly get on your feet, avoiding looking at him while you make a beeline for your shoes at the entrance. You can't believe that you kissed him- or he kissed you- or you both kissed each other, it doesn't really matter at this point.

You can't deny that it felt good. Really good. Atsumu Miya is a great kisser- and you don't know what to do with that information. You don't even know what he feels for you- are there even feelings involved from his side? Or is this just a game for him?

"You- y/n, ya don't hafta-" You hear him get on his feet quickly, running behind you and standing next to you while you tie your shoes. "I didn't mean to- it was just a dare-"

You freeze for a second, feeling like he just punched you. "I know. It's not- we're not." You clear your throat and raise to your full height, realizing that he is so close to you- way too close for you to think clearly. Worry clouds his features as he looks down on you.

"I didn't - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed ya for a game. I kinda overstepped things." He scratches the back of his head and you notice that his ears are pink which makes him look adorable- but now it only makes your heart break when he apologizes for kissing you. What did you expect? For him to instantly tell you that he likes you after the kiss? That he somehow feels just as attracted to you as you're attracted to him? You can't deny that he has a part of your heart already. His kindness, his charm, his dorky humor- it all makes your heart flutter like crazy when you think about him, and you can't help but to imagine a possible future for you.

But now you're almost certain that he is just looking for some fun. A game. That's what you are for him. He's just looking for someone to kill his time and it seems like you're here just for that. You curse yourself for letting traitorous hope caging your heart.

"Please don't sweat it, it was me who started it, I should apologize. It was just a game, right? Just some fun. Everything's fine between us, don't worry. We're married after all right? A kiss is definitely not the weirdest thing that has happened between us." You force a smile on your lips and grab your bag, effectively creating some distance between the two of you. You wish that everything's okay, but it's not. He weakly lowers his arms, appearing somewhat hurt at your words, and you feel guilt in the pit of your stomach. "Are you sure? I can drive you home. Ya wanna eat dinner together tomorrow? Ya said yer free." You simply nod without really taking in his words and turn away from him. "I'll find my way out, don't worry. Sleep well, Atsumu."

He looks like you've punched him again, but he finally nods when you grab the doorknob. "Sleep well, y/n."

You just hope he can't see your watery eyes.

xxx

"What do you mean, you kissed and ran away?" Yachi's voice comes delayed through the phone, probably because you're in the elevator. Your first instinct was to grab your phone and to call her, the distress in your voice evident while you told her what had just happened.

"It was a dare. We didn't kiss like that," you clarify, but your voice is still shaky. You feel overwhelmed, unable to process your feelings. You both kissed, and you basically ran away from him, not even asking about his feelings. What does he think about you?

"Wait—I thought you two were alone. Who dared you to do that?"

"An app."

"So you kissed because of a teenage app?" She gasps and you can vividly picture her face with a shocked expression when she repeats the words.

"That sounds like an excuse." She adds, and you can't help but to nod.

"It's... complicated," you finally admit, struggling to put your feelings into words.

"Why did you run away?"

"I got scared. He said it was just a dare. I felt like it was a game for him."

"Was that before or after you ran away?"

"Both. He even repeated it two times." You put a hand over your face and sigh.

"He may have wanted to put you out of the uncomfortable situation."

"I... I just don't know how I feel about him. I really liked the kiss, but I can't read him. He wants to meet me tomorrow though."

"He asked to meet you again? Y/n, go talk to him now! Get back and ask him about it! I'll kick your ass if you leave like that. Seriously y/n. I know it's a lot, but you can't just leave like that." She sounds like she's on fire while she scolds you, and you shrink into the wall when you realize that you might have wronged him here.

"You're right. I'll go and talk to him. Clarify things. Tell him how I feel." You inhale deeply and push yourself off the wall with newly found determination. You can always trust on Yachi to have your back.

You look up when the doors of the elevator suddenly open and hastily click on Atsumu's floor number while another woman gets with you into the elevator. You smile politely while you still hold the phone against your ear and nod as a greeting, and she smiles back, revealing a smile that is so perfect that it could be straight out of a commercial.

"Call me when you're done! Don't just leave him like that. You like him and I'm sure he likes you too." Yachi's words encourage you further and you smile when you thank her.

"Thanks. I'll call you." You hang up the call and put your phone in your bag, noticing in the corner of your eyes that the woman next to you has stopped smiling. You frown when you suddenly notice her red shirt with the number 21 on it- similar to Atsumu's shirt. It's without a doubt a fanshirt of Atsumu, you're certain about that after looking at it for a few more seconds. A fangirl? A glance to the display shows you that she wants to go to the same floor as you- and your heart suddenly drops when a suspicion arises within you.

You catch her eyes again, and she raises an eyebrow when she notices that you're staring at her shirt. "Are you a fan? I could get you an autograph if you want one." She breaks the silence and you stare at her with widened eyes. "You- you know Atsumu Miya?"

She laughs and plays with her long brown hair- and you don't fail to notice how pretty she is. She could be a model with her looks, that's for sure. And she knows Atsumu. "Honey, let me tell you. I have Atsumu Miya in the palm of my hand. I don't want to ruin your fantasies, but he is not as single as he appears on social media." She gives you a wink and you freeze. "You okay? You look a bit pale, darling."

Your chest feels heavy and your stomach turns at her words. There is no way. This can't be true. "I'm fine. No, I'm not a fan. But thanks for the offer."

The elevator opens its doors and she exits, waiting for you to come out too, but you can't move. It's like your body is glued to the floor, weighted down by the sheer thought of Atsumu and the beauty before you being together- for whatever reason.

"I forgot something downstairs." You reply and mechanically push the button of the ground floor. She just shrugs her shoulder and moves into the direction of Atsumu's door, not even sparing you another glance while she strides away. If you had any doubt about her words, you were now certain that she knows him when you see her halting at his door before the elevator doors fall shut.

She knows this place. She's going to his apartment in the middle of the night. While the elevator smoothly runs down, you come to the conclusion that you apparently don't know anything about Atsumu.

The only thing you certainly know is he not only has you as his official wife.

But Atsumu Miya also has a girlfriend.

[haggishlyhagging]

The story of the first people begins in Genesis 2, when God creates Adam, the first human being. The first Adam is a very simple and uncultured being, so simple that in the quest to find Adam a "suitable companion," God creates the animals. At this early point in Adam's development, God can entertain the notion that the animals might be fit companions for the lone Adam. God brings each animal to Adam, and Adam takes notice of each and gives it a name. "But for Adam he didn't find a suitable companion." God then creates woman.

The nature of humanity changes drastically after the creation of Eve. In response to the serpent's revelation that eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge would make her more godlike, she eats, and by doing so she acquires the knowledge of things—cultural knowledge. In this way, Eve wrests knowledge from the realm of the divine, takes the first step towards culture, and transforms human existence. The coming of knowledge is stated very simply: “the eyes of both of them were opened and they perceived that they were naked, and they sewed together fig leaves and made themselves loincloths.” Two things have happened: not only have Adam and Eve realized that they are naked, a category they had not perceived in their childlike innocence, but, in addition, they are now able to sew themselves loincloths out of the available fig leaves. Somehow, the knowledge of this skill of sewing, the beginnings of cultural knowledge, has come with the eating of the fruit of the knowledge of all things. The "natural" state of humankind's Edenic beginnings has disappeared: humans become creatures of culture, able to make creations of their own. They leave the garden and embark on their cultural existence.

The implications of Eve's act are enormous. In a bite, she has “stolen” cultural knowledge, taking it from the sacred realm and bringing it to humankind. Almost immediately, Adam and Eve have to leave the garden of Eden: human beings leave their liminal infancy and enter the world of human reality. God then ratifies this change in their existence, and formally recognizes that they have left the animal world by providing them clothes made out of animal skins.

This story has a long history of interpretation in post-biblical Western tradition, which concentrated on the sin of disobeying God. Early post-biblical literature does not focus on this story as an account of the origin of sin, which it derives from the story of the marriage of the angels to human women, a post-Biblical elaboration of Genesis 6:1-4. From the first century B.C.E. on, the exegetical tradition sees sin originating in the Paradise story, and by the first century C.E. on, Eve is blamed for this fall. Eve is seen as the first yielder to temptation, the one who brought sin and evil into the world.

Western writers since Origen have often associated Eve with the Greek myth of Pandora, the first woman, who unleashes misfortune on humankind when she opens the forbidden box. She is, however, better compared to Prometheus, who disobeyed the gods and brought culture (in the form of fire) to humanity. Like Prometheus, Eve acts on her own initiative; like Prometheus, she transforms human existence: and, like Prometheus, she suffers as the result of her gift to humanity. However—unlike Prometheus—Eve, the Bible's first culture bearer, is human. And she is female. This depiction of Eve as culture hero has an inner coherence and logic to it, for Eve's role in this primeval scene is the woman's role in the life of human beings, and that of the goddesses of the ancient Sumerian pantheon. The goddesses are figures of culture and wisdom just as women are the first teachers of cultured existence, the transformers of raw into edible, grass into baskets, fleece and flax into yarn and linen and then into clothes, and babies into social beings. They are the mediators of nature and culture in daily life, and Eve the first woman is the first transformer who begins the change from "natural" simple human beings into cultural humanity.

-Tikva Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddesses: Women, Culture, and the Biblical Transformation of Pagan Myth

[originalgenshinscenarios]

What would be your fave genshin girls dream dates???

OKAY SO I KNOW I DIDN'T WRITE IT IN THE RULES BUT I'M TOTALLY WRITING FOR FURINA (and Neuvilette and Navia) AND SHE'S MY RECENT ADDITION TO MY FAVES. She's cringefailure... I want her so bad (both in game and in general)

Lisa, Miko, Nilou and Furina's dream dates

Reader here is gender neutral

Lisa

Her dream date is a very simple one. She just wants to enjoy the moment. Best if you just went on a walk with a pretty scenic route.

She wants to hear you talk, listen to your voice and let you talk about whatever made you happy or excited recently.

Because seeing your smile might be better than any scenery you may encounter. Just like a sunset she can't help but admire the sight of your smile no matter how many times she'd seen it.

She wants to hold your hand, tease you with her touch while she's at it. Just so she can feel her heart melt over how adorable you are.

She'd look for opportunities to steal tons of kisses. Just because she can never get enough of your lips on hers.

Miko

She likes a date where things aren't expected. So if you do a bit more... Original romantic gestures, she'd never want that moment to end.

Make her heart skip a beat, but not by buying her flowers. Do something different, something that'll stick to her memory. Something that even she wouldn't think of.

Of course having a drink or two would be very nice as well. It may add to unexpected behavior.

But of course after all that excitement, she also wants to enjoy a calm moment. Just the two of you existing in your own little world.

Maybe a little trip to hot springs, or maybe just cuddling, the possibilities to unwind are endless.

Nilou

Her dream date would take place at night. Because then... Everything would be magical no matter where you go.

But settling for a lake would be ideal. Having a little picnic as you watch the moon's reflection in the water. The two of you staying close so you feel each other's warmth... It'd be paradise.

The tasty treats, her favorite person and a beautiful sight... That's just the thing that would make her the happiest.

She'd like to learn everything about you in that moment. Just opening up to each other and allowing yourselves to be vulnerable.

A date like that would make the time go so fast you could probably stay up the entire night and witness the sun rising once again.

Furina

She needs the thrill, the excitement so her perfect date is one where she is entertained by you.

She'd like that date to also be your proof of devotion to her. After all as the divine she should have a reason to choose you!

It's totally not about her feeling insecure and having proof that you do indeed have feelings for her...

So, proclaim your love! Write something on the tallest building-... Wait no, that'd end your date in the courtroom.

But there are other- more legal- ways to make her feel like your hearts beat for each other! And who else could keep track of the legality if not her?

~Mod Lisa

[guardian-of-fandoms]

"There's something weird about that Bear."

From where Dani was sitting, seated over a laptop, she couldn't help but smirk, glancing up at kade.

"Something weird about A six foot tall, SENTIENT, Animatronic Bear that looks like the 80s threw up on him? Alert the media..."

Kade rolled his eyes, groaning.

"I'm telling you! There's something freaky about him. I don't like it."

Kade leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowed as he stared at the other end of the Bunker.

Cody, Gregory, and Frankie were helping Freddy wrangle his new charging port to an outlet, created for him courtesy of Doc Greene.

Frankie was explaining the basics, and helping Freddy connect to it, as well explaining the new Battery Doc had installed in him.

"Daddy said your new battery should last around 48 hours between each charge."

"48 hours?! That's amazing!"

Frankie smiled, taking in the impressed reactions.

"Disabling that low power mode helped, but trust me, this should keep you going way longer than your original!"

Gregory nodded, chiming in,

"Yeah, that's way better. Could've used that at the Pizzaplex..."

Kade watched them converse, and sighed.

"I just got a funny feeling. Didja notice that Gregory never said what a kid like him was doing inside that horror show in the first place?"

Dani shrugged, typing away.

"He said he needed a place to go, so he hid out in the pizzaplex, what's weird about that? a giant mall filled with Pizza, video games, and endless entertainment? The place probably seemed like paradise for a street kid his age. Well... minus the violent robots and Murderous Bunny Lady, anyway."

"I'm just saying... We've seen millions of robots, we KNOW robots. Freddy is... different. That bear is just... weird. He dosen't act like the other AI we've seen."

Dani looked up at that, and sighed.

"Do you mean how he apparently was the only Bot there who protected Gregory? I think Doc Greene said something about being spared from infection by that.... What did Gregory call it? the... Glitchtrap Virus? idk, but, i think doc said he was safe because he was booted into safe mode? Look... it is weird, i'll give you that. But Doc did run a pretty intense virus scan on him, by his own insistence, and he turned up clean."

"It's not just the virus. There's just... there's something off about him."

"What's going on?"

Graham slide down the firepole, and Kade guestured for him to come closer.

"Graham, Bro, back me up here! Is or isn't there something weird about that bear?"

".... What Category of weird?"

Graham came beside kade, watching the commotion on the other side.

Freddy cautiously stepped onto the charging port, and his eyes imediently flashed brightly.

"Charging initiated! This feels wonderful!"

Cody and Frankie High-Fived, and Gregory, while having a weirdly intense look in his eyes, seemed satisfied.

Graham smiled at the kid's raw enthusiasm, but his smiled faded as he turned back to kade.

"Weird how? I mean he is-"

"A six foot tall animatronic bear, I GET IT, THE BAR WAS LOW. Look... It's like I told Dani, something just... It dosen't feel like another tin can. He feels more like... The bots. Obviously he's not, but... I dunno."

"... I think i get it."

"You do?"

Both Dani and Kade looked over in surprise, as Graham rubbed his neck nervously.

"I mean... To be honest, Freddy does feel... Different. Not bad different, he really seems nice. But... Even if he was unaffected by the Virus Gregory mentioned, why would an Animatronic Mascot for a pizza resturant be so determined to protect a child, even fighting his fellow mascots, his friends? That's weird, i think.... I think he's honest, about wanting to protect Gregory, after all, he protected Cody back at the junkyard. But... He's not acting like an AI, like you said, he feels... Like the Bots. He feels..."

"Human."

Kade sighed, and neither Dani nor Graham protested.

"I Just don't get it... I really don't. I know I Ain't the smart one... but I am good at trusting my gut. And my gut is telling me, something's weird here. Good weird or Bad weird... I dunno yet."

Graham suddenly glanced behind him.

"Dani, you find anything?"

Dani shrugged, staring back at her screen.

"Eh. Kinda. Apparently the Pizzaplex shut down after Gregory and Freddy fled, but they're blaming it on taking damage from an earthquake, not a bear and a gremlin child going on the rampage."

"An earthquake?"

Graham frowned, holding up his tablet.

"I'll check the seismograph reports from the area, just to confirm if it's a cover story or not."

Dani nodded, scrolling more.

"Hmmm.... Says here that there's actually been a string of mystrious dissapearances since the mall's construction, but the main Coorperation, Fazbear Entertainment, has denied all involvment. But between what Gregory said, and this, It looks like they have some things to hide..."

Graham nodded.

"Agreed, sounds like they're worth looking into."

"Ditto."

Kade took out his phone, searching up everything on "Fazbear Entertainment".

"Look, just in case, I say we keep an eye on the Bear. I know Heatwave's suspicous too."

Dani smirked.

"Are you sure Heatwave isn't just jealous?"

"Daniiiiiiiiii......"

"I know, I know. Look, I agree, we'll keep an eye on Freddy for now."

"Good... The last thing i want is Cody and Frankie- Or Gregory- getting hurt."

Kade looked up from his phone, staring at the bear.

Freddy was happily answering some questions for Cody, and Frankie had surpised Gregory by grabbing his arm, and judging by how she was eyeing his... what was it called... Faz-Watch? That was a stupid name.... But given by how intently she was studing it, he had a feeling what her next project would be.

Kade shifted his attention, noticing something new on the floor.

He gently picked up a small, plushie version of Freddy, most likely brought by their new residents.

Kade sighed, and Tossed it across the room, watching it roughly tumble onto the couch, landing facedown on the cushions.

He turned away, heading for the elevator.

"I'm gonna see if Heatwave's up for a drive, I need to clear my head. be back later."

"K."

"Be careful."

Kade left the two to their research, and glanced back.

He wasn't expecting to see freddy staring right at him.

He paused, the bear staring at him, but not malicously.

He looked... Curious.

Like was studying Kade.

Then, he waved.

Dumbfounded, Kade could do little else but awkwardly wave back, before beelining it to the elevator.

Yup...

Something was definetly weird here....

[undersakit]

UnderSakit Chapter ???

<This is a UTMV AU>

Warnings:

-Swearing.

-Mentions of poison.

Flowers blossomed under the younger one’s skeletal feet, his eye lights glowing with a Navajo white glow, his left eye light was uneven and cannot really be described, unlike the other. His moves were graceful and purposeful amongst the patches of flowers that surrounded the garden he walked in. Holding a bundle of flowers in his arms before he stopped to stand there silently, watching the patches of flowers that surround him with every one waving and flowing in the cool breeze, his face blank before morphing into one of exhaustion whilst letting out a heavy sigh. He promptly sat on the soft and wavy blades of grass below, the flowers in his arms were a bundle he never wanted at all. He HATED flowers, especially roses for he saw them as disgusting thorns that pricked at your heart and skin, being a false symbol of love as he believe them to be a painful reminder of his life, of how prickly his path to survival was, but he kept quiet about his preferences to not hurt his brother’s feelings. He saw his brother as a tall and kind individual, thoughtful and intelligent unlike himself. Always the best and sought for whenever the common folk needed assistance.

The younger one with his uneven eye lights and quiet demeanor was a child no one wanted to hear of, being hated by the many eyes watching him for simply “looking wrong”, which evidently lead to the younger one being called “Anak ng Kasamaan”. He was unfortunate even as he did no wrong to the world yet was titled as such. His elder brother, who was of the same species, was no exception to this treatment. Although he was loved by the public unlike the younger one, the older one had more of a “business love” or “fake love” as you may describe. A façade to keep them entertained, amusing the onlookers as if it were a simple game of pretend to both victim and predator, though frightening, it was how it is. Love never comes for free and will always have a cost no matter how little. This type of attention was craved into the naive mind of the younger brother. His want for love that he never knew the true meaning of would keep him in an eternal state of desperation. Even with a blank face, he still wanted his brother’s attention. It was the only one that felt genuine. Even though it felt like they were worlds further from the other without ever learning the reason for the tears they shed, they are still brothers and they understood one another more than anyone else. At least they thought of it as that.

Even as the cool breeze hit the young skeleton’s frame, he did not react as the fabric of his robe fluttered in the air. Folding and twisting as wrinkles started to form which did not bother him as much. The tree above shaded him with the small rays of light peeking through the leaves between, in turn, the flowers he held in his arms shone bright whenever they were in contact with the light. It was peaceful to the eyes of others, with the quiet and pleasant surroundings, anyone would think of it as a small paradise. However, the younger one saw this garden as one full of poisonous plants, especially that one. He knew the consequences of eating it, it was fatal and which the corpse would rot as the same plant grew over it. Ones who were lucky to just be ill, were most likely the ones who ate the petals and not the pistil. The pistil contained the most nectar, mainly in the ‘floral nectaries’. It disgusted the younger one by the fact this garden was full of them, yet no one was aware of their origins or uses. This just irritated him to the point of getting a migraine, “How could they be so stupid? Thinking of decor before safety.. this is bullshit.” he mumbled to himself. His other hand going up to his head, holding it with frustration as he shut his sockets close.

He opened his sockets to look around before letting out a sigh, “Stop watching me"

[hell-drabbles]

Satan 1

Summary: Despite being in a contract with him, you have less than positive feelings towards Satan. As such, Ppyong was really a breath of fresh air to you. You couldn't help but slam your elbow into the red lump demon when he offered to be your stress toy. It's fun, spoiling Ppyong while angering the childish Satan.

They're idiots.

Solomon should've told you something you don't know. Unfortunately, this idiocy spreads over to strange and rather extreme social customs. Sometimes it's interesting to watch, but they made the rather dangerous assumption that somehow you will easily follow along with their line of thinking.

This kind of idiocy was made most apparent to you with your first meeting with Satan, when your shirt was ripped open and you were reeling at the sight of Minhyeok's death and the demon suddenly decided that touching you was the perfect time. Never have you punched a person so hard you busted your knuckles open. And that open reaction of pure unadulterated lust at your hit?

It disgusted you.

Satan saved Minhyeok, you won't deny him that, but by no means is he suddenly your friend or anyone that you remotely liked. That goes to Minhyeok and, recently, Ppyong.

A seemingly harmless little red lump demon with a bazooka almost too big for body. He's an idiot like the rest of the demons you've met, but he had enough sense in that brain of his to not suddenly touch you when you don't want to. He gives you space, which the rest of the demons seem to forget you value highly.

You get it, it's a high sex society with absolutely no reasons for them to hold back in any manner, and despite your status as a child of Solomon, your human origins makes them all infuriatingly arrogant towards you. Like they think they know your kinks inside and out, and move forward with that horrifically wrong knowledge. Nobody gets to just touch you. They have to earn that right.

Don't be too hard on them. They'll see things your way eventually.

Will they now, Solomon?

... Well, if nothing else, at least they'll keep you entertained.

You thought Satan was going just be the outlier in his kingdom, but no. He's essentially everything irritating condensed in this small body of his.

Its why when Satan sat next to you at the bar, arm ready to sling over your shoulders that you clicked your tongue and choose to stand up.

"Ah, that's weird," and as always, there is not an intelligent thought behind those weird eyes of his as he took a sniff of his sleeve, "I'm pretty sure I scrubbed myself from head to toe. Are you sure you're not shy?"

And you didn't say shit. You didn't want to speak because you knew your anger would spill into your words. Already just by grinding your jaw, there's a rush of blood flowing into his cheeks. He wants to make you angry and you really don't want to engage with him.

"Aye! It seems the Child of Solomon is building up so much anger," Ppyong flew over and plopped his butt on the seat you were just in, clearly enjoying the warmth left behind, little rascal, "But, I heard humans can get sick if they bottle all that up. Why not use this body of mine as a punching back?"

If it weren't for the expression of open bliss on Ppyong's face, you probably would've said no. You knew what he clearly wanted and, quite frankly, you really wanted to hit something that wouldn't possibly crack your bones. And you liked Ppyong so you may as well spoil him a little.

"You sure?" You asked with a tilt to your head. You heard an audible crack of teeth being ground and you almost let a smile peek through.

"Aye! I can take anything!" He puffed up his belly, proud of his shape.

You slammed your elbow right down where his ribs should be. The seat creaked and the floor board below it even cracked. Ppyong spat and gagged but the tears spilling from his beady eyes told you of the paradise you just helped him reach. You couldn't help but laugh.

"You enjoyed that a lot, huh little buddy?"

"A little too much if you asked me." And Satan, without much prompt from anyone, grabbed Ppyong by the tail before whipping right to the farthest wall. "Well? Aren't you gonna do me next?"

You left him hanging by going right back to Ppyong. He shuddered up.

"Thank you for releasing your anger on me," he said.

"You're welcome." And thank you for keeping me sane in this place, you funky red lump.

[silkendandelion]

Say My Name (This Time I Will Answer)

A One Piece fanfiction (completed, one-shot), Gift Fic for Mirage In The Desert reaching 2,500 hits on ao3!!

ao3 link

Sir Crocodile x OC (male) Words: 7.6k Genre: Smut, fluff, romance, angst, bottom Crocodile

Rated: Explicit for sexual content, no external warnings apply

In Mirage In The Desert, Crocodile fantasized about a world where he and River met under different circumstances, one conducive to a love they could nurture. So I wrote it. In a world where he never lost his hand, and remained both a swordsman and a pirate captain, he hires a man off a random dock on some unknown island, one who proclaims he’s on pilgrimage from a Paradise island, and is looking for work. Can be read as x reader because River is not described nearly as in depth as the original fic. It can also be read alone from MITD, but might not be appreciated the same way.

Thank you for all of your continued support, and please enjoy 💙 it was so fun to work with Croc and River again, and this one is a personal favorite. Sweet, romantic, soft Crocodile, moonlit swimming, and lots of sauce 💝 have fun you guys

~*~

For all of Crocodile’s love of gold, and the flash of truth in the eyes of his opponents as the arc of his blade reaches it’s apogee, the sea was his first. His greatest paramour, a punishing lover that shouts and thrashes as much as she laves his skin with warm foam, cleansed of lesser men’s blood and graced by a crown of coral while she whispers:

My king.

So he procured a ship. To be close to her, to see a better, wider world than the one he knew, one overflowing with gold and power. He fled his home country on a stolen carrack worthy of his ambition, and filled her with a crew that was appropriately dangerous, loyal enough, who called her La Forza Dorato.

Today, years later and under such a bright sun, he wanted to be nowhere else.

“Captain!” A young crew member called to him, where he stood on the pier. He had already forgotten this one’s name. “Your list is exhausted, Sir. We sail on your command.”

“Immediately.” With only his word, they bustled to begin loosing the sails, and he remained on the dock long enough to light his cigar. His left thumb flicked open the solid gold lighter with a bright ping, while his right shielded it from the passing wind.

Thwip, thwip. But it only sparked. He clicked his teeth, about to bark out an order for one of the crew to hop down and buy lighter oil before they departed, until a man spoke up beside him.

“Need a light?”

An elegant hand with a calloused forefinger offered him a flame, attached to a man younger than himself but certainly not a boy by the creases along his eyes. Strikingly violet eyes among tan skin and dark, expressive brows that matched the mane of thick, black hair draped down his back, pulled neatly into a leather hair cord. Crocodile’s gaze flickered from the silver lighter to the twin swords on his hip, both the same shade of moonlight.

“Thank you,” he replied, polite but curt, and head bowed to accept.

“Is this your ship?” The stranger turned to his boat, wandering nearly onto the ramp until the crew gathered to block him, ready to defend.

“Oh—have I overstepped?” He chuckled nervously—handsomely, Crocodile hesitated to admit—and he nodded to his pirates to relax.

“Only fools wander onto a pirate ship of their own free will. Or stupidity.”

“I assure you, it’s foolishness, really,” the stranger explained. “I’m on pilgrimage from a Paradise island. If you have work for me, I promise to work hard.”

The crew grumbled in a ripple of protests, unimpressed by his fine-tailored clothes and sturdy boots, worthy of an adventure, sure, but only barely broken in. On that, Crocodile agreed, hesitant to entertain any self-proclaimed mercenary who, despite the hand-me-down rucksack slung over his shoulder, smelled of expensive perfume when the wind picked up his long hair.

“Are those swords just for show? Or do you claim to be a professional?” He pulled back his cape with his left hand to show the rapier on his own hip, a golden blade with a spiral hilt, too heavy to be a dress sword and proportionate to his tall, wide body.

“Why don’t you find out? Or are you just the captain?”

Crocodile had killed mouthier fools for less lip, but the mirth in those eyes, dancing among purple firelight and hinting of mischief, made him want to find out. He took a long drag off his cigar to keep from smiling, though it nearly turned into a scowl when the stranger spotted his decision—and had the audacity to grin at him.

Careful, beautiful stranger. Looking at men like that tends to make promises I doubt you could keep.

“You will refer to me as such.”

“Yes, captain,” replied the stranger with a deep, flourishing bow. “River Joel Faustina, at your service.”

“Shall I call you River?”

“Please,” he replied, beaming like his new captain had committed some incredible deed by merely offering him employment. Conditional upon his performance, of which pretty smiles held exactly zero weight. Crocodile rolled his eyes as he gestured for them to board, at the same time his crew were already scattering to enact his anticipated command.

“Let’s go!”

~*~

Crocodile ruled his ship the way he governed his heart: loyalty must be earned, obedience is non-negotiable, and failure often proved to be a fatal mistake. As to why the fool was still alive, even he didn’t know.

Perhaps he found his perseverance endearing, determined to haul sails and throw freight with the brawniest of his crew no matter how it reddened his fingers, his fine clothes beginning to fray with the strain of manual labor. Perhaps it was because Crocodile often forgot himself, unabashedly studying his newest sailor piling all of his hair to the top of his head between orders, and clicking his teeth that he was never wise enough to begin with his hair up. Surely, the ditsy stranger had to know how the loose pieces stuck to his neck in sweat-soaked petals, how the pieces curling around his chin in the humidity were capable to cause insanity.

He suspected a long plot, one where the stranger knew exactly the picture he painted when he stood by the railing to wring his shirt dry, the long line of his back tempting Crocodile to press fingerprints into his skin, until he was love drunk and bewitched, too warm and drowsy to prevent the robbery of more than just his jewels. That in mind, he respected the stranger’s dedication to his scheme, putting in long hours day after day, from his calculated “good morning, captain” at first light, to sending him dark eyes across the fire of the evening, and further flaunting himself across his captain’s restless dreams.

“I don’t like him,” Crocodile declared to no one.

For as long as he’s sailed, Crocodile always ate last, preferring to eat alone, and only after he deemed the day well and truly finished, the sun long gone. Despite his singular statement, containing it’s own beginning and end, the crewmate who poured his ale felt the need to reply. For tonight, on this subject, he would allow it.

“No one does. But, he does as he’s told. So how much can any of us complain?” They shrugged.

“He can’t be trusted.”

“I wonder where he goes every night, when he sneaks out of his bunk like none of us have ears.”

The clatter of Crocodile’s fork to his plate caused the startled crewmate to flinch. A coat of sweat began to dot their pallid skin, as they watched him slowly replace his fork to the napkin. “When would I have learned of these nightly occurrences, if I had not spoken?”

“I-immediately, captain, as—” They swallowed around their tight throat. “The moment I knew what it was the brat was uh—up to.”

”We’ll never know then.”

Crocodile’s rings caught the candlelight in a deadly flash, the promise of a permanent end to their business as he wrenched the crewmate up by his shirt.

“WAIT! You can’t—DON’T—”

A door opening elsewhere startled them both to silence, the cabin perfectly still while they both listened to it close, and the joining patter of feet on the deck. He tossed the man away, suddenly uncaring to enforce his own rules, to the grateful pounding of the frightened crewman’s heart.

“Get out,” he said simply, eyes and ears still trained to the almost imperceptible noise of footsteps.

The man scrambled to leave him alone, dashing off to go through the door they had heard open, while Crocodile ventured the opposite way to the deck. Empty, he believed at first, awash with moonlight and the white noise of the endless sea, enough to rock the ship but not to wake the crew in their beds. Against the railing, he spotted him, the sneak, his face turned to the damp wind, and… standing there?

He waited long breaths for him to reveal a snail phone, communicate to his handler he was getting close to his target, or mark notes in a pocket journal about his plot to fell the rising pirate before he became too powerful—but he only stood there. Basking in the moon, catching spray on his cheeks and gazing out at the sea like he was in love with her too.

Perhaps there was no plot after all, and his newest sailor was simply a fool. Nothing more. For now, there in the dark, damp and awed, he knew only one truth: that he found him beautiful.

~*~

Did he know his captain watched him walk the deck every night? Wondering what he scribbled about in his journal, a salt-stained book with it’s leather worn soft? Does he know he captivates me?

“It’s poetry,” he answered when questioned one morning at breakfast. The pirates at his elbows leaned to see the pages better, and the stranger had little mind to cover up or pretend to be embarrassed.

“What’s a man like you doing out on these seas?” Another one asked.

“I’ve come to see the world,” was his simple reply. “Find a new home, maybe find love.”

From the doorway of the galley, Crocodile blew smoke from his mouth, an olfactory announcement of his presence. The stranger was the only one to raise his head and meet his guarded, golden stare. “You’re a fool for that too.”

He rumbled some warning to the crew about other ship’s in the area, determined to appear indifferent to the stranger’s show of vulnerability, like he hadn’t fled to the sea for the same.

~*~

That night, as Crocodile sat beside the window in his quarters, smoking and thumbing a book without absorbing the pages, he wondered why the fool was late. 18 minutes, according to the golden watch in his pocket.

Tch, he clicked around his cigar, and was about to pour himself a drink when he heard the crew quarter’s door opening.

“A night for star gazing, eh?” He said quietly to no one, seeing the stranger come to the deck without a book or his pen. The night was perfect for such, their ship drifting aimlessly on a glass sea, the air warm and sky clear. His thoughts drifted back to the dark liquor on his desk. Would tonight be the time he went to him with two glasses and a hope fluttering around his insides? He seized the crystal glasses before he lost his nerve, grabbed the neck of the bottle, but—

The sight of endless skin outside the window froze him where he stood.

Once-fine linen pooled around bare feet, and the stranger stepped from their puddle to approach the railing, the night bathing the entirety of his skin a dark, deep blue.

“What is he—wait! Fool!” Crocodile ran from his quarters too late to catch him, just in time to watch him dive over the railing and down into the warm water. Bubbles preceded his resurfacing, among a gasp of delight and a handsome, shamelessly giddy smile.

“What are you doing?” Crocodile scolded down at him, quietly lest the crew wake and his voyeurism be revealed completely. “Are you insane?”

“Oh! Hello, captain,” the stranger replied, wading happily like he wasn’t being glared at by his highest superior. “Would you like to join me?”

“Get back up here—that’s an order. Storms can roll in at a moment’s notice.”

“Sky’s clear, captain. It’s only you and me,” he said, paddling onto his back to show him the planes of his body, chest barely breaking the surface and modesty only partially maintained by the black, shadowed water.

“Do you have any idea the kinds of animals that live in these deep waters?”

Dark eyes find his, and the mesmerized sway of his mind suddenly feels too much like falling over the railing. “I’ll protect you, captain.”

Absurd. Impudent. Brat. Crocodile cursed him repeatedly as he yanked at his clothes. But, with every article he tossed to the deck, his annoyance dimmed, soothed by the promise of warm seawater and a welcoming soul. He dove over the railing, the water parting for his large body in a burst of bubbles that tickled along his skin with the melodious laughter above him. Coming up for air promised the sight of the tempter up close, dotted on every inch of his skin with droplets of diamond—but he found he was gone.

“… Where—,” he gasped, startled at the brush of skin against his legs, and a dark shape darting beneath the rippled surface. What could easily be an expert swimmer or fish revealed itself as a man some meters away when the stranger reappeared. Beneath his wet lashes, he found his own yearning reflected back at him, alongside the same glimmer he saw at the docks all those weeks ago. The one that promised to either transform or drown him.

“If you catch me, you can kiss me,” promised the stranger.

They dove beneath the waves, and Crocodile soon realized he chased a native of the sea, as fast as any animal, breaking the moon beams that shone down through the water with the strong arc of his body to remain just out of his reach. He tumbled over the net of his hands with ease, exciting bubbles around them with his need to tease, to tighten his nimble limbs around the struggling thump of Crocodile’s vulnerable heart.

But Crocodile was also born to the sea, a predator of his own environment, and asking him to give chase was a simple request, as effortless as the yield of the stranger—this siren’s body when he folds into the hands that ensnare him. First, by the gentle grasp around his ankle, then sliding up the length of his legs to hold him in the wrap of his arms. With his delicate organs separated from the predator’s wide palms by only smooth skin dotted with moles, he offered Crocodile the air in his lungs, the warmth of his blood rising to his face as they finally catch their breath.

“Caught you.”

Under the compounding heat of his gaze, the water felt suddenly cool. Their limbs remained intertwined as he realized the only reason he held this creature of the sea—a man with a name, he reminded himself—in his hands, able to feel the thump of his pulse and the puff of his breath across both their lips was because he swam into his net of his own free will. Were he to deem his captain unworthy to touch him, he would have swam to the bottom and drowned him.

Yet here he floated, soft and beguiling, like he might dissolve into foam if Crocodile didn’t kiss him right this moment.

The slam of a door on deck flinched them apart, and Crocodile covered him with his body, despite them both bare, able to be seen completely if only the ripples calmed. Incoherent, sleepy grumbling floated down, among the sound of a zipper.

“How rude. Hey—” River called when a big hand clamped over his mouth, barely heard over the sound of liquid over another part of the railing they couldn’t see. Crocodile kicked them towards the netting along the side of the ship, quiet enough the sailor must have believed them to be fish, and left them alone to wander back to the cabin.

Among the silence, Crocodile realized with devastating clarity, lips still tingling where they had nearly touched, that he could not bring himself to continue.

Nevermind the moment being shattered by a weak bladder, their focus had been elsewhere long enough for Crocodile’s doubt to creep back into his edges. Cold, sour doubt, the worry about his worthiness of love, and wondering if River could smell his weakness. Wondering if he would still want him if he knew the fragility of his heart. Unbecoming, he believed, of a dangerous, cruel, and ruthlessly resourceful pirate. To remain apart was to protect his most vital asset: himself.

“… You should be in bed,” he said quietly.

“But—”

“That’s an order. River.” He couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, not when he might see the breaking of his own heart reflected back at him.

“Yes, captain.”

River climbed the net first, crestfallen, and Crocodile could not even bring himself to admire the back of him as he shed water and fumbled back into his clothes. He took no delight in going back to his quarters, clothes in hand, to lie down alone. Damp hands scrubbed down his face, reaching for a cigar to soothe the sting of his self-inflicted isolation. A punishment? For what, the imagined sins inflicted upon him by people he had already killed?

No, he thought as he flicked open the lighter. For my own weakness. That I replaced the chains of the dead with my own shackles. He does not deserve their weight, and neither do I.

Smoke wafted to the ceiling in lazy plumes, filling his lungs with the blanket of a hard decision.

The next time I hold him, he will have to decide: be mine, or find a new captain.

~*~

“No breakfast today, captain?” A crewmate asked when they were called to fetch his neglected tray and an empty carafe.

“How long until we reach the next island?” Crocodile asked instead.

“Day after tomorrow, captain. Our supplies will hold, despite how much that flimsy swordsman eats.”

He spun his cigar over the ash tray, tired, unseeing eyes scanning the correspondence and notes sprawled across his desk. “Perhaps… he will not be with us much longer.”

“Anything else, captain?”

“That will be all.”

Once his door clicked closed, the silence all but clawed at his nerves. He placed a record on his gramophone, finding comfort in the little band inside the tin speaker, and the weight of his rapier in his left hand. A few practice strokes, precise, gentlemanly, sharp in every way he was also. Were he to lose his hand, his ability to fight, he wasn’t sure it wouldn’t kill him, or worse perhaps, leave him alive.

He wondered if River could love a version of him without his sword, a man who would surely crawl from bloody ashes refusing to die, one who no longer cared to smother his rage. After all, even whole he was still that man. To love someone, to be theirs and keep them, was to love both who they are and who they could become.

A knock at his cabin door tells him the sun had set while he was in his head, the entire day lost to his sword strokes and spinning thoughts. The turning of the knob without his permission tells him exactly who stands on the other side, and River slips between the door and the frame to encroach on his habitat with little care for how he might be received. It clicks shut behind him, at the same time Crocodile’s scolding dies on his tongue.

He stands in night clothes Crocodile had never seen on him, a long linen shirt fluttering around his calves, his body bared as if he were nude by the glowing orange of the lamp light behind him, while his hair and limbs drip seawater onto the floor in gentle patters. The cloth soaks through where it touches his skin, framing goosebumps and tight nipples that perked up on the walk from warm water to the cool, dry cabin.

“Are you going to send me away? Captain?” His quiet voice startled Crocodile from his ogling.

“Why?” He manages with a dry mouth after a moment, and River opens his mouth to reply but he was not finished. “Why do you torment me? What do you want?”

“How do you not know? Can’t you see me?”

The slam of Crocodile’s palms on the short bureau behind River startles them both, caging him between corded arms that strain his dress shirt. He dips, poised to rumble the penultimate question against the warm skin of his neck where his pulse flutters against his lips. Between his legs, Crocodile’s knee keeps him spread, vulnerable, at the mercy of his crazed musings, and squirming as the furniture digs into the give where his rear meets his thighs.

But his question goes unasked. So he decides, as he stands close enough to see his own burning want reflected back in blown pupils, feel the impatient quiver of him against his body, that whatever his answer might be, he needed this night first. One night to begin a lifetime of bliss, or a special, singular night to carry him through.

“River.”

“Yes, captain?” His pink tongue flicks out to wet his dry, bitten lips.

“No. None of that,” he growls in the space between them before surging forward to lock their mouths together, tongues sliding as he grips the back of his thighs to hoist him onto the bureau. Both of them grab and yank at the bottom of River’s shift, hoisting it up to pool in the bend of his thighs so he can cage Crocodile’s waist between his thighs the way he himself is trapped between the hard planes of his body and the wall.

“Captain, we—”

A jeweled hand grabs his jaw, thumb digging into the joint, and keeps them impossibly close to let every letter of his order vibrate in his blushing throat. “Say my name.”

The blushes rises to flood his cheeks, a challenge if Crocodile had ever seen one, to turn his entire body pink to match. “But you said when we first met—I mean, someone will hear us.”

“They would not come through that door even if they believed you were being murdered. Don’t tell me you are shy?” River’s answer comes as an unabashed moan, Crocodile’s reward for sucking hot kisses into the junction of his neck and shoulder while wide, greedy hands knead and pull at the flesh of his hips to drag their erections together through their clothes.

“The man who came to my quarters in nothing but a shift has no right to be shy.”

He hauls him into his arms but does not move to the bed, instead setting him down on the table where his dinner had lain only hours before. The sigh of anticipation that stutters from River’s chest urges him to continue talking, to keep working his body with his voice. All burgeoning promise and smoke, the one that has him leaking into the crumpled mess of his shift with thoughts of Crocodile using those big hands to yank him back into his stroke on every single piece of furniture in the room.

“With the ease you stripped yourself bare to jump into the sea, I do not believe the moon can see any more of you than it already has.” Crocodile’s words were punctuated by shoving his shift up to his chest with one hand, bearing all of him to his hungry gaze as his other hand pulled open the buttons on his shirt. He yanked his belt open to give himself some modicum of relief, sighing hot when thinner hands slipped themselves into his trousers to stroke the clothed outline of his cock. Relief indeed—but tonight, he had no patience for mischief.

”What if someone had seen you?” He reached passed him for the oil (the same bottle he had used to maintain his rapier earlier in the night), and the scent of cloves drifted up from where he hastily slicked his hand. Long, thick fingers briefly massaged the skin behind River’s sack, down over nearly the entire cleft of him until he pressed one inside.

“Or did you want to be seen?”

To the pounding of his heart in his ears, and the rhythmic flex of River’s hands on his shift as he obediently keeps it lifted out of the way, he bullies in a second finger. For all his intent to stay still and let his lover adjust, be tended to, River’s hips squirmed in restless circles, tempting Crocodile to be mean to him with the little moans that puff from his kiss-bitten lips. But, for them to collide in a wave that swallows them both, he needed to hear from those lips he was wanted, even if the answer came ripped from River’s throat in the wail of his ecstasy.

“Answer me.” His fingers continued to drag over sensitive walls, pulling out just to shove back in again, again, pressing to his spot on every entry with an insistent curl. “Did you want to be seen? Eh? Would just anyone do?”

“N-no, I never—they wouldn’t,” he stammered out, his breath stolen by the lightning bolts of pleasure beneath his navel that lit up his entire body. A plea laid across his tongue, ready to be sprung but Crocodile’s fingertips refused to let him breathe enough to confess, like they were intent to keep him drunk and babbling until he could no longer recall excuses.

“O-only you. Only you, Captain, wanted y-you to see me. See me, fuck me—” A loud moan chopped off his words, loud enough to wake someone if not for Crocodile smothering his lips with a wet kiss, sucking on his tongue as he swallowed the cry caused by a third, thick finger. He consumed his sounds with a greed he hadn’t realized he could have for anything but gold, possessed to wring River’s body of every heaving breath and take them selfishly into his own lungs—

Until he had everything he could give.

River’s body rattled, toes curled hard enough to hurt as he wrenched his lips back on a ragged gasp, hips bucking into Crocodile’s soaked palm until he broke on the choked, shameless cry of his captain’s name. He moaned his crest to the ceiling, legs beginning to shake when those fingers refused to stop pistoning inside him. Crocodile almost regretted being so aggressive, but seeing those violet eyes shine with tears, lips equally glossy with drool as he called his name for the entire sea to hear—he wanted to reward him with blinding, wracking pleasure until he could recall no other words.

In the sudden quiet, he reached to soothe him, brushing his palms down his sides and hauling him into his arms to bring him down slow. For a long moment, there was only the sound of slowing breaths, their matched heartbeats pounding against the other’s ribs, until River’s eyes finally peeled open at the beckon of his voice.

“Did I break you?”

His answer came as a surge of energy in a desperate kiss, arms flung around his neck and a mournful sound pressed between his lips. Even through the tears, his eyes shone wetter than before, prompting Crocodile to wonder if he had made a terrible mistake.

“You made me come. Didn’t you—don’t you want me? To be inside me?”

The tight squeeze of his hands on River’s quivering waist dries those tears awfully quick.

“What kind of men have you allowed to touch you, that you would think one is enough?”

He isn’t prepared to watch storm clouds roll into his eyes at his question, elegant hands suddenly gripping into his shirt to shove him back from between his legs. For a shorter man, he carried a strength Crocodile had yet to witness in action, now aimed at himself as he wrestled them down onto the bed to perch above his hips in a tall line that spoke of some kind of pride.

In his miles of moonlit skin he saw it: the threat to be drowned by a man he didn’t fully understand. Yet, it only made Crocodile want more, grabbing for a life preserver in the strong thighs draped over him, and watching River toss his shift somewhere into the dark.

“I’m tired of your questions. Your assumptions to know me, what I’ve done with my body.” Above him, his gaze, the weight of his brow sat open and startingly sober. Among the storm, he found another emotion, the precursor to love, so close to honesty, and yet Crocodile could not identify it as devotion because he had never seen it before aimed at him.

“From the day I came aboard this ship, I never pretended to want anyone else, never hid my intentions. I only ever screamed them if you would bother to look.” He swallowed around his resolve. “You don’t believe me, that I want you? I will show you.”

For all of Crocodile’s hard-nosed affection, his growled demands and confident fingers, the immovable line of him lies willingly supine under the smaller man, long legs parting for him to crawl off his hips and down between his knees.

He looks perfect this way, they think about the other, meaning the way River pulls his endless, black hair to the top of his head with the leather from his wrist, and Crocodile’s wide chest beginning to rise and fall faster, the muscles in his strong jaw clenching and releasing with anticipation River can see plain in the heavy, tight line of his cock against his hip.

The shock of a hot mouth against his tip makes him hiss, soothed by wet kisses along every inch of him that is revealed by River’s hands slowly peeling down his trousers. Momentarily, River ponders undressing him completely so they match, but finds he enjoys too much the sight of Crocodile half undone, shirt bearing his solid torso and lower-half exposed only down to the tops of his thighs. Perfectly disheveled, begging to be consumed, bared perfectly for the moon to see all of him too. Hard evidence it was River’s hands that destroyed him, who cared to reform him.

A telling bead of precum, worked up by River’s ardent staring, tempts him to taste, swipe the tang of him away and lead him between his soft, inviting lips. Crocodile’s answer is a long moan squeezed up from his chest by the squeeze of the throat around him, and betrays exactly how much he’s enjoying himself. His stoic face is unused to being scrunched in bliss by a feverish mouth taking him down to the root with just a few, determined swallows. River takes a moment to hold him there, nose pressed against the dark, neat hair on his pubic bone, for what Crocodile believes to be a breath-stealing, head-spinning eternity—until it’s gone too soon.

He thinks he might lose his temper when that mouth pulls off completely to speak to him.

“You are so much more than I imagined. Oh,” River panted into his skin. Red, slick lips mouth up to his flushed tip to suckle and demand for more precum until it rips a haggard groan from his chest, and Crocodile gives a flushed, pissy scowl, one that demands he stop fucking around.

It hardly frightens the man between his legs, not when Crocodile’s hair has fallen from his meticulous style in damp strands over his cheeks to match the shine of sweat on his forehead. Between his knees, the heat of him nearly steams where River breathes over his sack to roll them around on his tongue too.

Crocodile wants to complain about the crawl they’ve fallen into, demand he pick up the pace, but before he can arrange thoughts on his tongue he’s rewarded by those lips slipping back over him. They fall into an easy rhythm, one that slides hot and tormentingly slow over the entire length of him with every complete bob of River’s head.

A soft, yielding “fuck” flutters out above him, anxious thighs brushing his ears, and River takes the moment to admire the crimson flush creeping into the valleys of Crocodile’s chest, the bob of his swallow around an unguarded groan. Big, sword-calloused hands cradling the curve of his skull are their own reward, as are the little, muffled moans he lets vibrate along the cock in his throat, tempting those hands to squeeze into the roots of his hair.

Crocodile puffs out a quiet chuckle, needing it to be mean but the lack of air in his lungs is a powerful enemy. “Look at you. So haughty and spitting a moment ago. How quickly you’ve become docile for me,” he says, deep in his chest as his jeweled thumb smears a drop of drool away from River’s lip, across his cheek.

Is that how it appears, captain?

River’s eyes flick open, dark as the depths of the ocean that housed creatures more dangerous than either of them, and promising to ruin him on his own pride. They steal the rest of his breath, trading air for lightning in his veins, all while never ceasing the steady rhythm of his head. One of River’s hands, the one that had contented itself to rub over the firm planes of Crocodile’s abs while he pleasured him—suddenly slipped away.

But, Crocodile hardly had the mind to count limbs, not when a tongue prods the hole in his tip, massaging his foreskin and coaxing his eyes to close, assuring him he was the one in control. A pretty thought, pretty as the man who knows the truth, the one collecting his own precum to nudge behind his balls, lower, lower still, and massage over Crocodile’s hole.

His eyes fly open, face suddenly as red as his chest, shooting up to his elbows like River can’t feel him getting even harder against his tongue. “You little—brat—”

“Push me away, then.” That mouth, that smirking mouth lay open to let his cock slap on his glossy tongue. “I’m a swordsman too, certainly no waif, but you and I both know I didn’t lay you down on this bed against your will. If I’ve overstepped—stop me. Tell me to stop, Crocodile, if those rippling muscles have suddenly failed you.”

The pleased chuckle he breathes over the tip of his cock coincides with Crocodile’s surrendering sigh, and the impossibly long line of him falls back to the pillows with the dizzying slide of River’s finger inside him.

“Add another, hurry up—”

“Ah,” he tuts at him. “I will treat you with the care you showed me. Even if you didn’t wait very long at all,” River chuckled again, and Crocodile’s teeth clicking in annoyance turns a huff of pleasure when he gets his request.

He wants to be infuriated at the impudent swordsman for pushing him down and taking liberties with his body, but he can’t feel anything beyond the eager, searing heat that keeps swallowing his semblance of thoughts through his cock, and the expert, clever fingers massaging his inner walls so thoroughly.

River holds back a teasing comment about “who’s docile now” as he opens his eyes to admire him through the tears pooling on his lashes. For all River’s calm voice spoke of control, he knows neither of them can deny their body’s reaction, from his wet cheeks at his throat being filled dutifully over and over, to his hard cock between his legs that throbs as Crocodile writhes on his fingers, long legs restless against the sheets as his sturdy body shakes and cock swells in his throat. Such the cycle continues.

Below him, Crocodile melts on the simmering heat filling his body, threatening to burst from his cock and yet it doesn’t, can’t, as it’s held back by the distracting hand leaving fingerprints on his insides, all over his swelling prostate. He’s in a loop of pleasure, riding higher to a place he hasn’t seen in so long, so out of his reach from atop his throne. And yet here he was, moaning, gasping for air on the sticky, devoted affection of the man who came to his quarters and presented himself first.

The barrage on his senses retreats suddenly, and Crocodile nearly begs for the high, wounded sound he made to remain their secret. Luckily, River looks to have no intention to tease him as he wipes his lips clean with his arm, using his slippery hand to stroke over his own cock. By the glow of the oil lamp, Crocodile can see all four of his fingers shining, but recalls no pain when they had entered him. And they must have, if the openness of his hole is to be believed, felt by a quick touch of his own fingers.

“Why did you stop?” He rasps into the humid air between them.

River answers by leaning over him, hair mostly fallen from it’s quick style, pupils blown as they keep him pinned to the pillows, all while his greedy hands knead at Crocodile’s strong thighs. “Do you believe I want you now?”

Crocodile means to fire back some quick-witted, biting retort, until his thighs are hoisted up, baring his hole and held aloft by deceptively strong arms.

“I’m sorry you haven’t come yet… Would you believe that I want you if I had let you come in my mouth, showed your seed to you on my tongue before I swallowed it?”

“You are…” Crocodile growled out, golden eyes equally blown as his hands grabbed at the sheets. “A cruel, impudent little thing.”

The calloused hands on his thighs flex. “Cruelty recognizes itself, Crocodile, and I think you need better proof of my intentions.”

“I believe you.”

His ragged gasp as he breathed in, so unlike the Crocodile that strangled control from every aspect of his life down to his pleasure, desperate and—if River was anymore bold—vulnerable, had them both snapping to each other's gaze. For a moment, only the sound of the ocean outside filled the warm room.

“I believe that you want me, and I want you. Beautiful River, handsome poet, I want you, so—” Any more words were swallowed by the moan in his chest as River surged forward, bracing his hands beside his ribs and pressing his cock inside in one firm thrust.

River’s hips meeting his stretched rim comes with Crocodile’s big hands on his body, one in his hopelessly lost hair bun, the other on his lower back to feel his muscles clench and twist. “Come on, you wanted to show me proof. Or is this pretty face the extent of you? Your pretty cock—”

He’s interrupted by the throw of his hips, an honest moan worked up from both of them when River grabs at the mattress for leverage to work Crocodile’s body harder than his fingers could ever hope.

“I am more than this pretty face,” he pants over him, one hand leaving the bed to grip his thigh and spread him wide to bury himself even deeper. “More than the swords at your disposal. I will ruin your body, your soul.”

Crocodile’s head, also hopelessly mused from it’s style, presses to the pillow with the force of his hard, steady strokes. Quiet, panting moans leave his lips in rising succession. He touches River’s bicep where one of his arms keeps him braced, fingertips scratching him gently in a way that might have been reserved for admiration if not for the drop of drool that escaped his clenched teeth. Breathing is so hard suddenly, when he can easily look down to see the poet’s pretty cock disappear inside him, his own lying neglected and useless in a puddle of it’s own pre against his stomach.

He can’t help but be impatient, especially after being denied his orgasm down River’s throat, and reaches down to stroke himself off. His breath rises again, shorter, more labored as River shifts his knees to match his attention to Crocodile’s prostate with his wrist’s efficient, choppy rolls.

“That’s it, come on. Come for me,” River coaxes him, voice rising, whining and urgent like he was the one approaching orgasm and it flings Crocodile over the edge with a punch to his diaphragm that comes out as a deep, cracked groan. His vision blurs for long moments, white and crackling at the edges, until he comes back to himself to realize the rhythmic thumping against his flank has not ceased. River’s still at it, dragging him out of the dredges of over-sensitivity and back on the road to another, stronger orgasm.

Perhaps he will drown him anyway.

“I’m sorry it look so long for you to come, but I—,” River swallows around his dry mouth, “I will make you come again, I promise.”

“You stupid poet, you beautiful—” His words hold no bite as they wheeze from his wet lips, choking on air when River threads his elbows behind his knees to spread him wider, impossibly so as he leans over him to capture his lips.

He feels himself blush to be pressed completely open, River’s soft thighs rubbing against the skin of his hips to fuck him slower, deeper than he had before, the length of his cock dragging against Crocodile’s most sensitive places for the entirety of his stroke. It made kissing nearly impossible, not when the overworked neurons in his brain are firing off at a rapid pace and his body has begun to melt into the sheets.

“Kiss me, please, I need you,” River whimpered against his tongue, like he didn’t have him folded in half, moaning on his cock and golden eyes dripping tears down his temples and into his hair. Crocodile seized him to bring them chest to chest, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripped on his rear to press the shape of his rings into his heated skin. Dizziness crept into his vision, he knew he was flying too high, only able to wrestle a few words from his vocabulary beyond the fluttering in his chest and the boiling just beneath his skin.

“Mine, all mine. Always,” he panted, his glassy eyes causing River to wonder if he meant him or his cock. The lightning in his belly begged it was the former.

“Yes, yours. No one else’s. Only you, captain, it’s always been you,” He moaned out, nearly a sob as Crocodile’s head flopped uselessly to the pillow. In the fog of his cooked consciousness, he still felt River’s forehead press to his temple, mouth hot near his ear, begging his words to be heard clear and coherent among the humid air between them.

“I’m yours, Crocodile, only yours for as long as I live.” The rhythm of his thrusts wavered as Crocodile’s mouth dropped open, dumbfounded to feel him swell even harder inside him, right against his sweet spot. “Command me, fuck me, use me as you wish.”

The storm rising beneath his ribs burst suddenly, flooding his body to the tips of his fingers and toes, his internal muscles squeezing unbidden, and they both call each other’s name over the ocean rushing in their ears. To Crocodile, it felt so different from the orgasm he had impatiently wrung from himself earlier, hand stripping his cock while he allowed River to sweeten the deal with his dutiful stroke. But this, this, River was in control of his pleasure, fucking it deep from within the most molten parts of his core and pushing him impossibly higher with every hungry, obedient thrust.

The sweet, keening moan above him is a treat, along with the last pleas of stuttering hips pumping him deep with a liquid heat that sweeps his insides to the corners of his soul. An apology, he thinks, for the ache in his hips as River finally lets his legs fall to the side.

He contemplates scolding him, picking the pieces of his pride off the floor to remind the other man he did not have permission to come inside him, until a muted thump to the mattress captures his attention first. Beside him, River lies bathed in moonlight, wearing his sated flush like a silk chemise, and decidedly too endearing to shout at. He sighed at length, supposing he earned it, after coaxing him to come twice on his cock and hard enough the second time to hit his own face with his seed.

But who would he be if he didn’t complain a little?

“Ugh. You come into my room, make a mess of me and my bed. I don’t suppose you intend to clean up after yourself, do you?”

“Shall I use my tongue? It will only take a moment.” River jumped up to lean over him, beginning to suckle the semen off his abdomen with a happy hum, to Crocodile’s flustered outrage.

“Outrageous, mischievous—hrn.” A strangled sound fell from his tired lips when the tongue moved to lap at his hole, interrupted by Crocodile’s firm hand in the roots of his hair. He dragged him back up for a kiss, tasting himself in their shared sigh, and a fond calm settled over them as they parted with a wet sound, not unlike the waves after a storm.

Crocodile anchored his stare by the firm grip on the back of his neck. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Every word.” River answered without hesitation, and let their foreheads gently thump together. “Do with me as you wish. Forever.”

“Promises like that, to a man like me, are liable to breed hatred eventually. You will come to resent me.”

“No, I won’t. Not this time.”

He wants to ask him what he means, why his gaze is so calm, as if he’s come home from a long journey. Maybe he’ll ask him one day. But not now, when their skin is so warm where their sides brush, and the ocean outside is quiet.

[thatsofic]

BEST SOLOIST (FEMALE) IS A GRAND PRIZE AKA DAESANG AWARD!

Who's the best soloist in the fic? Meet the eight amazing female artists who are nominated for BEST SOLOIST!

BORN IN THE CAPITAL OF THAILAND, naiyana’s introduction to the world was bloody and wretched. She danced because her m jiho loved when she danced, enrolled in singing lessons, and was whisked to seoul to audition at a company she didn’t know. because she ought to put her talent to good use, no? \\ @xonaisu

VERONIKA  (  베로니카  ),  a  fictional  female  soloist,  emerges from the shadows with  unique  haunting  music  style  and  witch-themed  visuals.  her  self-titled  debut  album,  released  alongside  an  intense  music  video,  created  a  buzz  in  the  industry  with  its  dark  and  mysterious  theme.  the  concept  resonated  strongly  with  audiences,  who  were  drawn  to  the  blend  of  mythology,  witchcraft,  and  music. \\ @iamvercnika

HEEJIN KWAN, also known by her stage name, ASTELLA is a fictional soloist that originally debuted on July 13th, 2017 with her former group PARADISE, and later in late 2021 as a soloist is managed by STARSHIP Entertainment. \\  @heejinkwan

Dayna Seo was originally set to debut with CLC, but due to a lineup change last minute. she was benched. That's in the past because now she is a talented producer, creating all of VIVID's songs alongside Sora under the duo name SoDa. She finally made her solo debut on January 12, 2021, with the single "거기너!" and has also contributed her songwriting and producing talents to various idol tracks, working closely with Sora. \\ @alwaysvivid

Sora first gained widespread recognition by competing on Unpretty Rapstar in 2016, where she placed 3rd, and Produce 101 from 2016 to 2017, just missing the final I.O.I lineup by placing 12th. Her solo debut came on April 4, 2022, with the release of her debut album CHERRY under Angelico Entertainment. Every song on the album was written and produced by Sora and Dayna under SoDa. Sora’s creativity and artistic vision have made her a standout figure in the music industry. \\ @alwaysvivid

Judy (judi. 주디, often stylized in all caps) is a soloist managed by cult creative. The singer was originally a part of Project HotPink, she debuted with Heart Attack in the spring of 2013. Gaining the name disaster rookie due to her debut being a complete disaster. it wouldn’t take long for the singer to redeem herself, however; the release of Purple Night did wonders for her failing career — peaking at two on the Gaon Digital Chart and securing her two end-of-the-year awards. \\ @anqelsweep

SHIM MIYEO, also known as MEW is a fictional south korean soloist under glasshouse inc. she debuted in 2017 with a single album, CATz TALK. originally under alfea labels, MEW was in the lineup to debut with VENUS TRAP in 2020, but after a conflict in her contract, she left the company three years earlier to debut as a soloist. \\ @mimcw

CHLOE KWON is a kpop SOLOIST and CEO of LOVELY RECORDS. she was first introduced in the survival show SIXTEEN, where she placed 10TH overall, just missing the final lineup of TWICE. she then debuted as a SOLOIST less than a year later, skyrocketing in popularity. \\ @chloekwon

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