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#male oc x canon character

not-so-fearless-eli · 1 month

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Okay, I’ve had this story up since the 21st of march (I think.) and in all honesty? I’m absolutely in love with it, I’m currently working on the next chapter, along with fic edits for TikTok and I’m really excited! So if you enjoy oc insert stories, along with Ron Weasley x Male, while the oc also being Sirius blacks son, then I think you might enjoy it! If you want to please check it out!

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cinnamon303444 · 3 months

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This is short, but I was watching Tik tok when I saw this video about the Traveler calling on Xiao when they were masterbating, and I just wanted to write a small drabble about it

NSFW below the cut 🔞

You're laying in your bed, tired but unable to sleep you try to of course! But you've been trying for the past hour to no avail. you're just too full of energy to sleep.

You think of The Concuruer of Demons, Xiao, as you now know, and how big of a crush you have on him, you'd never let him know that of course, because you weren't sure if he'd even understand if you told him.

You began touching yourself gentle touches at first, trying to tire yourself out before the climax, but as you thought more and more about him, the faster your hand began to move, your once calm movements had become frantic and unpredictable.

"Xiao!" You moaned out, forgetting the vow he had made to you when he said that if you called his name, he would be there in an instant, and he was. You had your eyes closed so you didn't notice him right away, his tense demeanor, from thinking you were hurt, melted away before it came back when he realized why you actually called his name.

He watched you for a moment. It had been a long time since he had seen someone so beautiful need him this much. He wondered if he should intervene, but you noticed him first. Covering your lower half with the thin sheet.

"Come on, you were close." He teased as he gracefully stepped onto the bedframe, almost like a weightless being as he looked down at you. "Don't get embarrassed now. After all, you were shamelessly calling my name in your moment of pleasure. Do you want me to use you? Don't you." That was the tipping point. His words sent you over the edge, and you whimpered as you came. "That's it, now how about I help you instead?"

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oncomingnight · 10 months

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Go Go Dancer!*✩‧₊₊˚⊹♡

Yandere! Model & Yandere! Barbie Girl

Valentina Sanchez (Yandere! Model)

One of her top favorite vacation spots is Amsterdam, Netherlands. She's seriously considering moving the two of you into a home settled there. The city of Amsterdam is the greatest contrast to her life in Chicago, and she absolutely loves that. Valentina and you would go café-hopping, fawning over the local architecture, observing art pieces and going antiquing.

As I mentioned in my last post, Valentina absolutely loves cooking your favorite dishes for you. There doesn't even have to be a special occasion, she just wants to treat you at all times. Most of the time, she'll turn this into an excuse for the two of you to have a date night . How could you resist ? I mean, she already set the table and put down two plates of trofie al pesto, you simply can't say no.

Valentina's body is decorated with scattered tattoos, mainly on her fingers and arm sleeves. On your one year anniversary, she returned home with a playfully suspicious look in her eye, you leaned in to kiss her before noticing her expression, "what's got you all worked up? I was thinking today we could -"

Then, she pulled down the collar of her shirt that revealed your name written in cursive with light brown ink. "Look!" She gleamed before biting down on her bottom lip and smiling, showing off her ghostly white teeth. You thought it was adorable how excited she seemed to have gotten your name tattooed on her body. Was it a bit of an extreme gift? Yeah, but it just showed how much she loved you! She isn't expecting you to do the same in return but she'd be the happiest woman in the world if you decided to.

The two of you had the best time together that day. She took you to a michelin star restaurant and surprised you with an anniversary dessert, your name written next to hers in chocolate syrup right under the pastry on the plate. The view outside the window made the setting even more romantic, adding on to the day you were celebrating. Also, she didn't just return home with a freshly applied tattoo on her skin, she came home with tons of gifts in her arms with, an extremely soft plushie poking its head out of one of the bags along with an abnormally sized bouquet.

When she's being interviewed by a fashion journalist or a podcast host, there's nothing they can do to make her quiet up about you, her perfect angel. She could care less about conversing on the topic of what's trendy or celebrity drama, she wants to talk about you and how your love affected her in the loveliest way.

She enjoys showing you the matching intimate sets she'd bought earlier on that day for the both of you. Of course, you can dress yourself, she knows that! But nothing could fill her with the same amount of deep warmth she feels as she helps apply garters onto your supple thighs, clasping a silk floral bra onto your chest that she loves so much.

Barbara Handler (Yandere! Barbie Girl)

Barbara absolutely adores the experience of getting ready for absolutely any occasion with you. She can't help but let her eyes wander in adoration as you step into a slip dress, asking for her help in zipping it up moments later. You're the most beautiful woman in the world to her, she believes everyone should think this way. All of the moments the two of you spend together are her most cherished soon-to-be memories , the way you make her feel is something that should be bottled.

The thing that upsets her the most is seeing you in a saddened state. She immediately wants to know what caused such a reaction out of you, she'll stop at nothing to punish the person that harmed you. She'll set your head onto her chest as she caresses your hair, whispering sweet words of love. As you calm down from the rollercoaster of emotions you just experienced, Barbara goes into other areas of the house to grab your favorite things in order to ensure that you'll feel better.

When she's able to take a break off of work, she's driving the two of you to her cabin to spend an entire week with no one other than each other. To her, you're the embodiment of joy. There's nothing she loves more than being alone with you and doing daily tasks alongside you, it's the life she always wanted. During your time at the cabin, the both of you huddle up together near the fireplace as coffee brews on the stove, binge watching vintage Christmas movies whilst snow falls onto the once green grass, Barbara laying her messy head of blonde hair onto your chest as you read to her by the immensely decorated Christmas tree.

She enjoys having you in the office with her as she works and comes up with different beneficial ideas for her company. Barbara is the most hard-working woman you know and she works so she can give you the best life you could ever live. You have to remind her a lot of the time to give herself a break and get off of her work laptop.

Don't get her wrong, she enjoys having date nights out but eating dinner in the comfort of your own home seems so much more relaxing and intimate to her. I've already mentioned this before and I'm going to do it again, she's a clingy wife and even moreso when in a private space. Always having an arm on your thigh as the two of you share a night in, clinging onto you even as she sleeps, interlocking your hands and sitting you on her lap.

The two of you live an extremely quiet yet exhilarating life, residing in a gated community that's nestled in the middle of a mountainous area. She loves her little life the two of you share, waking up beside you and tracing patterns onto your skin, watching your sleeping form with droopy eyes and a fond smile.

When the two of you are getting sensual together, she enjoys filming the actions that occur between the both of you. These videotapes are never shared with anyone's eyes other than hers, she keeps the films in an extremely secretive place that only you and her have access to.

Seeing your body in pastel colored lingerie will practically stun her with both homage and lust. When she goes down on you, she'll practically forget that your body has limits and will accidentally overstimulate you. But, even after she acknowledges the fact you've orgasmed for the fifth time now, she begs you to give her just one more.

Barbara grew up watching dozens of romance films with stories of persistent love and lessons to always keep those of whom you love close to you at all times. This explains why she finds infinite joy in putting on a suave record, taking your hand in hers before taking you to the kitchen floor and slowly dancing with you , both of your bodies in sync.

On the day of your wedding, the vows she had planned months in advance, brought you to tears. She spoke about how you made her more present in life, gifting her the chance to experience pure love and true joy. As she read her three page long vows, she teared up and despite the amount of times she wiped at her watery eyes, nothing could've stopped the tears from falling. Your thumb softly rubbed under her eye then onto the apple of her cheek, resulting in her leaning into your calming touch, looking into your eyes once more as she kept speaking.

Eventually everyone crowded around the main room in the venue as it was time to bring out the cake, she gently cut a piece out for you before swiping a manicured finger through the buttercream and placing a small amount onto the tip of your nose.

You looked so darn adorable.

She couldn't be happier that you were the one in which swept her off her heeled feet.

Hello everyone, I hope you're all having an amazing day and night. I know this may not be my best work but I wanted to give you guys something :). Please never hesitate on reaching out to me or requesting.

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yanderehsr · 6 months

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Hii! How r u? How was ur dai? About the oc thing...Could I prety please with cherry on top get a platonic platonic Furina, Ei, Nahidaand Venti with a reader that is like a elf? Idk, how to explain it, so I am gonna add a picture to how I wiev it:

Her name is Eclipsa and has white hair and pointy ears(ofc since she is an elf). And I dont mean like Santa's elfs, I mean the ones from greek and romanian mytology.

About the bakstory: Lets just say that she is the daughter of The Heavenly Principels(lets just call her THP bc I am lazy) (ik it sounds cringe but hear me out😭) and since THP was not all the lovey dovey tipe and probably VERY bad with children (maybe even hate them idk, I really cant see her motherly) she just decided to throe her to Tyvat into the care of the archons untill she was old enough (16 years old) to come to Celestia (bacically be mature since she doesnt want a cryng baby around). Eclipsa is growing, just like Klee slower (there is a theorh that says that Klee is 80 but is also 8 bc she is growing 10 times slower than normal) and everu 100 it adds 1 year rlto her age. Now, lets say that when she was 10(1000) she overheared somebody say that the archons dont actually like her (like parental figures ofc) and that they probably just cang get rid of her. She actually belivd them like a dumb child that she is and ran away (opened a portal to another world and dissapeared without anybody's knoladge). Now, lets just say for the sake of this au to make it more interesting (maybe more cringe but I am having fun ok?😭) that the disaster from Khaenri'ah happened bc the person occ heared it was a khaenriah'n and THP since finding this out was like "OH HELL NAHH" and this iz the reason they destroyd Khaenria'h. THP gave the archons untill Eclipsa was to turn 16 to find her. Well, now, at 15, she randomply (and awkwardly) came back. (Maybe she finally got into her head the ideea of checking Irmansole to see if the archons truly hated her and surprise surprise, ints not true). Now, imagine the characters meeting Occ in their nation. For Venti- at windrise, for Ei in the city (near the statue), for Nahida just at the spirit tree (maybe one of her little friends passed that message for her) and for Furina(back when she was still an archon) she was told from Neuvillette that he sensed Occ's presence(lets just say that higher ups are aware of Eclipsa's existance, including Furina. Perhaps she has read about Oc in one of the books she read to find a solution to Fontaine's profecy).

Also, I imagine ooc to look like this when she was little(I just love this fanart sm😭):

(One thing to note is that none of theres fanarts are mine, and idk who they are from to credit them. Also te line I made was bc there was some writting on that picture and I didnt want it to be out of the context:>)

About personalit I see her as somebody who is quite the drama queen and loves attention 24/7. She loves pulling pranks all the time and also like annoyng people, but in a joking way. Hoever I see her as somebody who has her moments of understanding and is quite the menance to societity(pretty mhch like how Klee is). About her powers, she is developing since young THP's powers but since she is not even 18, its definetly not as affective.

Anyways, I know it might be a weird request or cringe, and maybe I wrote too much, or gave too little information. Also, I am VERY sorry if you cant undrtstand this request, english is not my first language and I pretty much have dyslexia(not bad one tough, I am still working on correcting mynself :D) and I tried to make sure I made as little mistakes as posible but its hard to spot them when its a big paragraphe, uk? therfor you are always free to ignore thiz request, hopw you have a nice day and good luck writting so many requests. Also, congrats on 1k followrs!! :D

...Did I just read an entire fanfiction XD, I will gladly write this, and thanks for the congrats😆

Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Furina: She knows almost nothing about her, Neuvillette doesn't seem to remember anything about her and there are no books about it, hell the only reason she knows about Eclipsa is because Focalors thought of it as important that she knew about The Heavenly Principles daughter if she was going to act as an archon.

Furina's first meeting with Eclipsa is when Neuvillette is showing her around, it was instant love... not the romantic kind, the platonic kind, Eclipsa looked like a doll, so perfect to dress up, so perfect to have around, Furina feels lonely and Eclipsa makes her feel whole again, so she takes what she wants.

Furina dislikes The Heavenly Principles, she would be happy if she was hated by them, her performance is over either way, the profecy is fullfilled, is it really so wrong of her to be selfish... you will see Furina run around Fontaine with Eclipse causing havoc, as long as she is with her she doesn't feel lonely, and now she never will

"Y-you aren't leaving me right, right... ANSWER ME PLEASE... I'm sorry for yelling, I just don't wanna lose a friend so dear, you can understand, right?"

Raiden Ei: The day Eclipsa dissapeared was the day her sister died... not only did she lose her very own sister, she also lost someone she practically viewed as a daughter, she had never felt such horrible pain before, so she shut herself away as to not feel it again.

So many years spent in isolation, all Ei could think about was her sister and Eclipsa, she swore if she could just get them back, she would protect them both with her life, she just wants things to go back to normal, like it used to be.

So many years had passed that Ei nearly didn't recognize Eclipsa, she had so many questions for her, but she didn't say a single one... screw The heavenly Principles, she was going to protect her as best she could, Eclipsa don't even get a chance to talk before she was shut inside the plane of Euthymia.

"So long, you have been away for 500 long years... but that's okay, you're here now, I'll make sure you not come to harm like what happened to Makoto"

Nahida: She doesn't have much knowledge of Eclipsa, she isn't recorded in the Irminsul, all the knowledge Nahida has of her is what her predecessor left for her she didn't forget, she is confused why Eclipsa isn't around... did she dissapear or worse, did she die?

Nahida is confussed when she feels Eclipsa's precence by the Irminsul, it feels familiar but she can't figure out why, of course like the curious 500 year old child she is, she went to figure out what caused such familiarity... Nahida knew who it was the second she laid eyes on her, this is who she is supposed to protect like the Greater Lord she once did.

Nahida asks a lot of questions, why is she here? Why was she gone? Eclipsa is now her favorite subject to learn about, Nahida takes up some kind of little sister role to stay close with her, she needs to know everything, feed her ever-growing curiosity, maybe one day she will introduce Eclipsa to the Wanderer... but that can be later, Nahida wants to be selfish for a bit longer.

"Curious, you being here fills me with a feeling like... like a hole, you fall down it everyday and it just feels so annoying, then suddenly someone has covered it up and I don't feel annoyance anymore... You need to stay with me for a bit longer, I need to figure out why"

Venti: He isn't all that interested in following The Heavenly Principles orders, but he still did as to not occur her wrath... he did not expect to take care of a child, he wasn't the best, he got constantly drunk, never took anything serious, except for protecting Eclipsa from any danger.

It was no surprise that Venti felt such fear and despair when Eclipsa dissapeared, he had lost yet another loved one... why does he still care, it always happens anyways, no relation lasts forever, no matter how much he tries to drown the memory of her in even more alcohol, it doesn't work

That's when Venti notices her precence, after 500 long painful years, is she finally back? Is this his second chance. He meets Eclipsa at windrise, she look just as well as when she dissapeared... He doesn't care what The Heavenly Principles thinks or wants, he will keep Ecilpsa safe and away from her, He will keep that smile on her no matter what.

"It sure has been a while hasn't it, soooo how have you been, hope you missed me for I have missed you"

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere male #yandere female #yandere furina #yandere furina x reader #yandere raiden ei #yandere raiden ei x reader #yandere nahida #yandere nahida x reader #yandere venti #yandere venti x reader #platonic yandere #oc #oc x canon #oc x character event

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etfrin · 12 days

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chapter one: the beginning | blackout

warning : sfw | none !

summary : getting into the foxes

pairing : Andrew x Neil x oc! Male character

beta read / editor : @shawol-lisa-lee9

a/n : first chapter, woo, can't believe this is real rn, hope you guys liked it! And thank you @shawol-lisa-lee9 for agreeing to be my beta reader and being so helpful in the process! you're a life saver! 🤍

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───※ ·❆· ※───

It was supposed to be like any other day. But everything feels different. The subtle changes in the air don’t go unnoticed by him. The school is more lively than usual. Jocks… fucking jocks are friendly to Abraxas. And there is hype about a sports match today, and every time Abraxas passes in the halls someone is wishing him good luck.

Abraxas frowns every time he hears them.

He doesn't play any sports.

He doesn't even like running.

So nothing can explain why he is in the locker room with a coach giving everyone a speech on how great of a team they are and how proud he is of them. Nothing makes sense, but Abraxas chalks it all up to a very vivid dream and decides to go along with it.

He will wake up eventually.

Picking up the racket is instinctive, giving it a swing gives him a sense of deja vu. Abraxas looks at one of the guys beside him and clears his throat to get their attention.

“What team are we playing again?” Abraxas asks, wondering why in the heck he is playing lacrosse in this dream. He packs his gear in a bag. From the looks of it, they would have to travel to another school to play.

“We're playing against Millport,” the guy replies.

He gives Abraxas a friendly smile that makes Abraxas more jittery than anything. “Can't believe you forgot again. Don't tell the coach or he will make you run laps.”

Abraxas gives him a rough nod, wondering why the name Millport sounds so similar, but the noise in the locker room distracts him from his thoughts.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Millport is a small town. The high school Abraxas is playing against doesn’t seem like a good team at all. Abraxas thankfully knows the basic rules of lacrosse but it makes no sense to him why he would be playing it when he has no attachment to the sport. It being in Abraxas's dream makes no sense.

But Abraxas doesn’t realize how wrong he is about which sports he is playing until he sees only six people on the court. Not just that, the court is different too, definitely not the type used for lacrosse. It is… more similar to a sport that doesn’t even exist. At least not in the real world.

Exy.

Exy was a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse on a soccer-sized court with the violence of ice hockey. It is a line from a book Abraxas read a long time ago. The Foxhole Court.

The book was complicated but good. But out of every sport Abraxas could dream of, it had to be this one? Abraxas doesn't even remember the rules as he takes his place on the court. As Abraxas stands behind his teammate, he holds his racquet upwards. It feels right. Like Abraxas had always been playing.

The bell rings and the rest of the game is a blur. Abraxas ran, and ran for the first time. However his muscles don’t burn, he isn’t even tired. Fuck, he even scores!

Abraxas's team wins against Millport.

Millport, which was a town featured in Foxhole Court. It was the town in which Neil Josten, the protagonist of the book, was hiding. Abraxas pause, frowning.

Does that mean he's there? That he played on that court?

Abraxas swallows, wondering the possibilities as he stares at the backs of the other team. Any of them could be Neil. The boy Abraxas read about. The boy who made Abraxas’ life less miserable just by existing in his mind.

Abraxas walks towards the other team’s side, ignoring his teammates’ calls. The Millport kids look at Abraxas, wondering if he is there to start a fight.

But Abraxas only wants to see the boy who saved him.

“Neil Josten?” Abraxas calls out, hoping that he’s not wrong.

A guy flinches as the name is called.

And Abraxas knows, Abraxas knows he is right.

Neil is in Abraxas's dream. He is here.

A boy with messy black hair and brown eyes looks at Abraxas through the holes of his helmet, his eyebrows raised in a silent question. Abraxas clears his throat, feeling awkward.

A part of him feels embarrassed, not knowing how to react as he sees the boy.

“You played well,” Abraxas lets out. His voice is so high that it sounds forced, despite the fact it is true and Abraxas means every word. Neil gave his everything when he played and it was clear to everyone who watched him play.

“We lost,” he deadpans, and Abraxas feels like he could die happy as he hears his voice. It was everything Abraxas imagined like, and it sends a chill down his spine.

Abraxas reminds himself that he is standing rather awkwardly in silence, not sure of what to reply. So he shrugs. “You are still very good, though,” Abraxas emphasizes.

Neil gives Abraxas a nod instead of a verbal answer. Abraxas doesn’t mind: knowing his character, the fact Neil even said two words to Abraxas meant a lot. He turns to leave, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

“You…” Neil begins as Abraxas stops going in the other direction. “You played well too.” Abraxas doesn't look back as he continues walking. But the grin on his face is the widest it's ever been. Abraxas knows Neil wouldn't compliment anyone just to be nice, knows he means his words.

Abraxas being actually good at this, means a lot to him.

Abraxas was never ‘good’ at anything before.

───※ ·❆· ※───

Before it's time to leave, Abraxas’ coach calls him in another room. This dream is going on too long, it's too vivid, but due to the adrenaline of the win it doesn't raise any alarms to him

Abraxas is frozen as he looks at the man beside his coach. After all, the man is no other than Coach Wymack. The man stands tall, a file in his hand as he looks at Abraxas with his brown eyes.

“He wanted to talk to you,” his coach says, “I had sent him your stats the last time we talked about it.”

Since Abraxas knows it is a dream, he has no idea what the coach is talking about. He can’t say anything though, his heart racing as he sees how fast the dream is escalating. He gives the coach a nod and waits for Wymack to make the first move.

“I shouldn't be here right now,” he begins, “but I had problems with my last recruit and your coach said you're interested in our team. We need a sub striker” Again, Abraxas nods in reply, his mind buzzing.

“Then sign the dotted line and you're ours for five years.”

“Uh,” Abraxas begins to ask, “Will you be recruiting any other player except me?”

Coch Wymack looked at him sharply, “Why, yes,” he answers. “After you sign the papers, I'll be meeting a player from your rival team.”

If he isn't wrong, Andrew should be meeting Neil any moment now. More specifically hitting Neil with his racquet and stealing his breath away - for the first time of many to come. He should send Wymack on his way as soon as possible.

Abraxas hums. “How about I sleep on it? I'll let you know the answer soon.” He slings his bag over his shoulder. “Let's go, Coach. I am tired.”

Coach Wymack eyebrows furrow together, “You won't get an opportunity like this, kid” He starts as if trying to think of more words to convince Abraxas to join his broken team of misfits.

Abraxas replies, “I know.”

This is a dream and thus me agreeing doesn't really matter when it's not real in the first place.

Abraxas leaves the two coaches behind.

───※ ·❆· ※───

When he takes a nap on the bus, he is sure he will wake up to his reality. He does not. He wakes up on his seat, with the noises made by his teammates annoying the shit out of him.

When he reaches his home, and finds his way to heaven - his bed -, he thinks ‘Now I definitely will wake up.’ Abraxas goes to sleep, knowing his weirdly realistic dream is over. He feels a bit sad, because Neil felt so real. And Andrew and Kevin were just a heartbeat away from him as well.

He wants to meet them next time he has a dream like this.

But then he wakes up.

And everything is all the same.

The difference in the air is present. It's different from his reality. The contract is in his duffle bag along with his gear. It shouldn't be possible. He pinches himself and yelps from the pain. He takes a cold shower to shock himself out of it. To go an extra mile, he even eats a chili pepper, hoping that is going to wake him up because this is turning into a nightmare.

Instead now his mouth is hot, panting as he looks at his phone. There are several missed calls. He makes the call on the unknown number.

“Hello” he lets out, shaken to his core.

“Will you be joining?” Wymack's voice is heard.

“I…” Abraxas breathes, “I…” he looks around his empty, bare home. No family. No friends. This part of him was never a dream. His loneliness had always been his reality. But it seems like his reality is changing.

Maybe he has read too many books. But he tried everything to wake up.

And he doesn't want to wake up anymore now.

If there's a chance his reality will change, he's gonna take it.

“I will,” he replies. “Join, I mean. I will be joining the foxes.”

To Abraxas changes weren’t something usual. Heck, nothing in his life for the past four years had ever changed.

He never thought a change would be so scary.

He never thought he would be so afraid.

He could only hope never to wake up again.

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silkendandelion · 4 months

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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.

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hatakxraikai · 11 months

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Keisuke & Kakashi Hatake

Just Kakashi making sure Keisuke's attention didn't drived the hell out when needed <3

#hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi naruto #kakashi sensei #naruto #naruto oc #narutooc #original character #hatake clan #male #male oc #naruto characters #oc x canon #sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #naruto uzumaki #naruto shippuden #Keisuke Hatake #Hatake Keisuke

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lizzy-redheart · 6 months

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The true colors potion - Chapter 1 - springrose44 - Trolls (DreamWorks Movies) [Archive of Our Own]

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories:

F/M , Gen

Fandoms:

Trolls (DreamWorks Movies)Trolls - Fandom

Relationships:

Branch/Poppy (Trolls)Branch & Poppy (Trolls)Branch & Creek (Trolls)Branch & Grandma Rosiepuff (Trolls)Branch & King Peppy (Trolls)Branch & The Snack Pack (Trolls)Poppy & The Snack Pack (Trolls)King Peppy & Poppy (Trolls)

Characters:

Branch (Trolls)Grandma Rosiepuff (Trolls)Poppy (Trolls)King Peppy (Trolls)Biggie (Trolls)Smidge (Trolls)Creek (Trolls)Guy DiamondDJ Suki (Trolls)Satin (Trolls)Chenille (Trolls)Original CharactersFuzzbert (Trolls)Cooper (Trolls)Original Male Character(s)Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags:

Grey Branch (Trolls)Branch Needs a Hug (Trolls)Alternate UniverseRomanceSlow RomanceCharacter DeathSecretsPotionsFamily SecretsMinor Original Character(s)Background Character DeathAlternate Universe - Canon Divergence.

Summary:

After losing his colors due to grandma death branch trun to temporarily solution to solve his gray situation problem he make a potion that will let him have his true colors for about 12 hours before the effects of the potion wear off so branch detriment that none of the trolls know that he truned gray drinks this potion daily as well as he have a supply of this magic potion so he can never run out .

What if branch had a close family friend to some how look after him after his grandma death ? & what if that family friend knows of branch secret ?

Poppy have a feeling that this shy , akwakard teal blue troll isn't what he seems she have a feeling that he's hiding a big secret from all the trolls and poppy is so determined to find out what it is

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sodilemonlime · 23 days

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Hey all of my fellow Perfect Love enjoyers, I have come with the timelines of Amy with the Milos!!!

First up: PreAmy & PreMilo! (And yes, I am reusing the Ship Templates because I updated two of them! :3)

When Amy met Milo, it was during the unfortunate circumstances of him being bullied by an ex of hers. She threatened and scared Ryan off before helping Milo up off the ground, leading them to talk for a little. When Milo asked Amy if she could teach him how to defend himself: she laughed a bit, but happily said yes to trying to help him. Since that faithful day, they became close friends and hung-out after school in each other’s dorms: getting to know one another and their feelings blooming into beautiful flowers. Milo loved spending time with Amy and vice-versa: Amy loved watching Milo get creative and always asked questions so she could listen to him ramble about his interests, Milo loved listening as Amy sang or hummed her favorite songs and talk her head off about certain topics or her interests; they both just loved learning about the other and completed each other. Then, Amy eventually confessed and asked Milo to be her boyfriend. Milo was surprised by the sudden confession, but happily accepted and they became a couple. Since they became a couple, Milo’s obsession with Amy grew: he loved every inch of her and he couldn’t stand being away from her for too long. Amy was his life source, his reason for living and she meant everything to him.

Next up: VAmy & VMilo!

After a few more altercations with Ryan, Amy suggests that Milo and her should practice self-defense at the batting range: so Milo can be able to defend himself if she’s ever not around him. He tried and failed to the first few times since he felt very conflicted with the idea of being violent, but when an incident with Ryan that left his sweetheart hurt occurred: something snapped inside of him and he started going to the batting range basically everyday with Amy. Milo became very overprotective of Amy and was always beside her no matter what in fear of her getting hurt again, anyone who even looked at her wrong would probably end up getting beat up if she didn’t calm him down. Milo was very weary of anyone Amy talked to, even her own family since they were notorious for saying backhanded-things to her: but Amy always managed to calm his racing thoughts and let him know that they were okay and safe before he could do anything. Amy was his safe haven, the one good thing he had in his life and he wasn’t going to let anyone even so much as lay a finger on her.

Last, but certainly not least: MAmy & MMilo!

Amy had brought Milo to a a party with a few people that she considered her friends: she always spoke highly of them, so Milo was nervous but went to make Amy happy. They had a pretty good time all together, although Milo was shy and barely spoke: he enjoyed watching Amy sparkle and shine as she blabbered with him and her friends. He felt content in his interactions with her friends..until Desmond came up to him one day and told him that he should stay away from Amy. He was shocked: why was one of Amy’s close friends telling him to stay away from his sweetheart? He questioned Desmond about what he was talking about, Desmond told Milo untruthful things about Amy’s past and he never felt more disgusted in a person until this moment: how could someone who Amy spoke so highly of spread such obscenities about her like this? Something snapped in him and he silently promised Amy that he’d never let anyone speak that way about her ever again. He slowly started gaining the trust of others and gathering information about anyone he could get his hands on, if anyone dared to speak negatively to or about Amy: you’d best believe he’d make their lives a living hell. Amy was his savior, the only person he could trust in this crude world and he wasn’t going to let anyone dull her blinding light.

That’s all I have for today, but I am working on Amy’s backstory and a few art pieces with the Milos and Amys: so I hope that you guys will stick around to see those! I hope that y’all have a good day/afternoon/evening/night and I’ll see y’all in my next posts! 👋😄ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘᠃

#perfectlove #perfectlovevn #perfect love #perfect love vn #perfect love fanart #perfect love milo #about premilo #about violencemilo #about manipulationmilo #milo fanart #male yandere #yandere #yandere vn #yandere boy #character info #character art #oc x canon

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Your alien cat man twins

I want to do more headcanons of Qhen and Ceth, they are my favorite catman alien assassins <3

Qhen and Ceth Physical Description:

Qhen and Ceth are twins, so their faces look the same, except they both have opposite mis-matched eyes. Qhen has a blue eye on his left side and Ceth has a blue eye on the right. The other eyes are flat black.

Qhen has long wavy hair he usually keeps loose, but puts in a braid on special occasions. Sometimes he decorates it with a gold thread when he wants to impress a woman.

Ceth keeps his hair cropped short because it's easier to take care of. He thinks Qhen's hair looks dirty.

They both have black pointed cat ears, black hair, and fluffy black cat tails. Their skin is a darker shade of blue of the color of their eyes. Both have a muscular fit.

Qhen tends to wear leather pants and spacer boots, but rarely wears a shirt. Will occasionally wear a necklace if the girl he is favoring at the moment gifted it. This, of course, stops when he meets you

Ceth dresses in neat suits because he considers every day a workday. He rarely has a hair or a thread out of place. He doesn't like to be touched, so he carries around a handkerchief to wipe people's filth off of him. He only tolerates your touch.

#alien boyfriend #alien oc #alien x reader #yandere male #male yandere #headcanon #oc x canon #oc stuff #original fiction #original character #monster oc #monster boyfriend #menage

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