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strangererotica · 26 days

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

husband!Steve Harrington x housewife!reader

| When you fumble the home-cooked meal you attempted to bake for Steve, he doesn’t mind at all. In fact, the meal he really wanted was already waiting at home for him, all along… |

| And yes, I know the pic is from Marmalade and not Stranger Things, but it’s how Steve looked in my brain when I wrote this, so bite me 😊 |

The rain coming down over Hawkins was relentless. Heavy gray clouds obscured any chance of sunlight breaking through and warming the chilly April evening. A blanket of fog crept along the streets of downtown, slipping between houses and through windows left partially open.

One of those windows belonged to the house you shared with Steve. The chicken casserole you’d attempted to bake had ended in disaster, having literally ‘gone up in smoke.’ You wanted to surprise Steve with a home-cooked meal when he got home from work, because you felt a little guilty always ordering take out. You wanted to take care of Steve, to be the wife you knew he ‘deserved.’ Naturally, Steve already thought you were perfect just as you were, and told you as much, frequently. Still, doubt nagged at the back of your brain, and you wanted to make sure that Steve understood how proud you were to be his, that you wanted to be his perfect little housewife…

In spite of the chilly air that evening, you were forced to open the kitchen window. The rain smelled so sweet in contrast with the acrid scent of smoke filling the kitchen. The sound of Steve’s car pulling into the driveway caught your attention. You made your way to the front door, waving a dish towel as you walked, fanning away the last of the smoke. Steve’s keys made a jingling sound in the door; your heart skipped knowing he was right on the other side of it…

As soon as you saw Steve’s face, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. His eyebrows lifted in surprise when he noticed the smell of smoke in the house. “Did you uh-.” Steve chose his next words carefully. “-Light a candle, baby?”

You bit your bottom lip, an apologetic look on your face. “I wish that was the reason it smells so bad in here,” you replied. “But actually, I-.” You sighed. “I tried to make dinner, for a change. And it kind of exploded in the oven…”

Steve nodded, glancing behind you at the kitchen. He silently observed the aftermath of your work. Every utensil and baking dish you owned had seemingly been taken from the cabinets, considered, and then rejected to the counter. “It’s okay, baby,” Steve assured you, putting his arms around you. “We can order take out; it’s not a problem.”

You tried to let your anxieties fade, melting into the familiar comfort of Steve’s embrace. Holding your ear to his chest, you listened to his heartbeat, soothed by its steady rhythm, the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“What sounds good?” Steve asked, placing a kiss in your hair. “Anything you want, and-.”

“I’m actually not really hungry anymore,” you said, your eyes cast downward. “I kind of lost my appetite, with all the smoke.” You chuckled a little, in spite of your disappointment. The bitter smell of smoke and burnt casserole still lingered in the air, but only a little. Not enough that it distracted Steve from how pretty you looked, your forehead lightly dotted with sweat, your hair disheveled and some stains on your pajama shirt from the mess you’d made while baking.

Steve’s eyes swept over you, a combined feeling of love and lust washing over him. That combination of feelings was exactly the reason Steve had fallen so hard for you, why he’d loved you more every day since, and why he’d eventually asked you to marry him.

He knew you were frustrated about the dinner mishap. Steve was a very intuitive husband, and always seemed to know what you needed even before you did yourself.

“Just order something for you this time, okay?” You gave Steve a quick kiss on the end of his nose.

“Well actually,” he replied. “There is something that I’ve really been craving.” He smiled. “Been thinking about it all day, actually…”

Your eyebrows lifted. “Okay,” you giggled. “Well then you absolutely need to eat it.”

Steve nodded, his tongue sweeping lightly over his lips. “Oh, I’m going to eat it,” he replied, his tone a shade darker. “But I don’t have to order out for it. What I want is already here.” A corner of Steve’s mouth curved upward in a suggestive grin. “At home...”

Oblivious to Steve’s meaning, you peered behind him at the burnt abomination casserole sitting on the kitchen counter. “Well I hope it’s not chicken casserole you’re craving,” you replied. “Because that thing I made is definitely not fit for human cons-.”

Steve cut your sentence short by tugging you closer, so your faces were less than an inch from one another. He softly pressed his lips to yours in a closed kiss. It was chaste, romantic, sweet; but laced with darker implications that had your pulse racing.

“I want you, baby,” Steve murmured, easing his body against yours. “You’re the sweetest meal a man could ever ask to come home to…”

You felt a little dizzy, and it certainly wasn’t because you’d missed dinner. Everything about Steve made you weak…but the way he could have your pussy dripping using words alone made you fall the hardest…

“Let me eat you,” Steve said tenderly, respectfully, as if he didn’t already have your absolute permission. “Please?”

You swallowed, steadying yourself, suddenly feeling very light on your feet, as if you could be swept away by the slightest breeze. “Mm-hmm,” you replied through closed lips, then spoke out loud “yes. Yes, please, Steve…”

His smile was exchanged for a look of something carnal, and it would probably have seemed predatory in any other context. But once Steve had your permission, he was completely absorbed in his pursuit of having you.

Your ass was on the couch within seconds, Steve kneeling at the floor between your legs. He kissed your knees, your thighs, working upward till he was nibbling at the waistband of your pajamas. Steve let his right hand drape lazily against his crotch, occasionally palming his erection through his pants.

His lips pressed soft and warm against your belly. Steve spread a trail of gentle kisses down your stomach, lingering above the waistband of your pajama pants. His pretty hazel eyes flicked up to meet yours briefly before he hooked a fingertip beneath the pajamas, and lightly tugged them down.

You shivered at the feeling of air on your newly-exposed skin, but Steve’s tongue warmed you up immediately. He licked soft, wispy stripes beside your clit, intentionally neglecting it, letting the pressure at your center build…sucking one of your lips between his, then releasing it with a wet pop. Your fingers went to Steve’s hair, threading his caramel strands. He dipped his nose between your labia, bumping his bridge against your clit, penetrating you gently with his tongue. Your back arched, pressing your cunt forward, burying Steve’s face even deeper between your thighs.

He groaned into your pussy, the vibrations of his mouth stimulating the inside and outside of your cunt, plumping your lips even fuller. The sound of Steve’s tongue pumping inside you squelched beautifully, combined with the delicate, breathy sounds you were making. He nuzzled even deeper between your thighs, the tip of his nose gliding between your pouty lips.

Steve seamlessly replaced his tongue inside you with two of his fingers, making you gasp at the new, firmer penetration. His tongue washed over your clit, bathing your cunt in a mix of his saliva and your cum. You could feel yourself getting close, but what you really wanted was to finish together with Steve inside you. Your hand left his hair for his shoulder, patting to get his attention as you breathlessly told him “Steve, Steve, need you, in-.” And before you could finish your request, Steve had already lifted your ass off the couch, pulling you down to meet the bulge straining at the front of his pants.

He fumbled slightly at getting his belt and pants undone, because he was in such a hurry. You reached for his cock and rubbed the outline of it, feeling it pulse under your touch. As soon as Steve’s dick was in reach of your mouth, you tugged him between your lips. With a hard suck, you took him all the way to the back of your throat in one gulp. Steve’s knees went shaky, his breath punched out of his lungs at the shock of hitting the back of your throat so unexpectedly, so quickly. Your gag reflex activated and you popped off Steve’s cock, a raw trail burning all the way up your throat. You laid back on the couch and spread your legs, eyes trained on Steve’s, a seductive grin turning your lips.

He shook his head, your slick dripping from his chin. “No,” Steve said, reaching for your hair and gently guiding your mouth back onto his cock. “Need more of that tight little throat-can’t suck me like that n’just take it back-.” Steve eased himself down the length of your throat, nudging the back with his tip. A low growl of pleasure rumbled from Steve’s chest, his fingers threading your hair. “God, just like that…keep sucking…FUCK-!”

Steve hurriedly pulled your lips off his cock and pushed your back against the sofa, mounting and entering you as quickly as he could. Your hands clutched Steve’s shoulders, holding on tight as he humped you like a desperate animal, punching his cock so deep inside you that his shaft was rubbing your cervix. When Steve came, he choked back a dry sob, his breath heating the skin at the base of your neck as he panted through his release. Sweat dripped from the ends of Steve’s hair and onto your chest as he carefully lifted himself off of you. He fell back onto the couch beside you, pulling a hand over his disheveled hair, his pants around his muscular thighs. You laid your head on Steve’s shoulder, tilting your face to gaze at him.

He noticed you staring, and smiled. “Now that was a home-cooked meal,” Steve said, attempting to catch his breath. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. You fell asleep on the couch, drifting away while listening to the sound of rain thrumming against the roof, and the muffled rhythm of Steve’s heartbeat…

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chuuyasfavwine · 1 year

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╰┈➤ ❝ [ tubatu!! ]

━━━ ❝ welcome to chuuyasfavwine’s fic recs! ❞ ━━━

key: ☁️ — angst, 🕊️ — fluff, 💌 — series

• ━━━━━━

↳ CHOI SOOBIN: ༉‧₊˚✧

- ≡;- ꒰ °paper hearts ꒱ by @soobmint ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °copyccino ꒱ by @fairybinie ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °red string of fate ꒱ by @cathyun ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °somewhere only we know ꒱ by @loveliestfelix☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °nineteen ꒱ by @yeonjunszn☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °twenty two꒱ by @yeonjunszn☁️🕊️💌

↳ CHOI YEONJUN: ༉‧₊˚✧

- ≡;- ꒰ °until you’re home ꒱ by @lost-leopard-beanie ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °mine again ꒱ by @boba-beom 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °how to fall back in love with yeonjun ꒱ by @gyu-xiao ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °the way i loved you ꒱ by @eundiarys ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °no one but you ꒱ by @yeonboy☁️🕊️

↳ CHOI BEOMGYU: ༉‧₊˚✧

- ≡;- ꒰ °your place is empty ꒱ by @theynchapter ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °what about us? ꒱ by @beomgyuls ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °run ꒱ by @loveliestfelix ☁️

- ≡;- ꒰ °voices ꒱ by @soobmint ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °amortentia ꒱ by @bffsoobin ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °doomed from the start ꒱ by @gyumlkyway ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °how to get the girl ꒱ by @ijhyo ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °ugly district ꒱ by @jjuxii ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °balance game ꒱ by @yeonjunszn ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °teddy bear ꒱ by @simplygyuu 🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °create a sim(p)! ꒱ by @ssunnae ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °mikrokosmos ꒱ by @soobpricity ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °casted ꒱ by @iyeonjuni ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °e-daters! ꒱ by @suwbuns ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °our love in dandelions ꒱ by @hyuukais ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °take me where your heart is ꒱ by @loveliestfelix ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °be sweet (i wanna believe in you) ꒱ by @beomsight ☁️

- ≡;- ꒰ °call you later ꒱ by @heart2beom 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °a recipe for love ꒱ by @tinietaehyun 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °14:56 ꒱ by @taegyuun 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °nouvelle crown ꒱ by @simplygyuu ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °for worse and for better ꒱ by @jjunis ☁️🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °kiss, don't tell꒱ by @fairybinie ☁️🕊️💌

↳ KANG TAEHYUN: ༉‧₊˚✧

- ≡;- ꒰ °against all odds ꒱ by @fairyofthestar ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °valentine ꒱ by @fairyofthestar ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °mind over heart ꒱ by @fairyofthestar 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °blurry lines ꒱ by @pr0dbeomgyu ☁️🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °rain and vanilla lattes ꒱ by @tyunlatte 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °beverly hills ꒱ by @angelictaehyun 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °game over ꒱ by @tyunlatte 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °little wishes ꒱ by @heartchoi 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °it’s a cat! ꒱ by @cathyun 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °americano ꒱ by @boba-beom 🕊️

↳ HUENING KAI: ༉‧₊˚✧

- ≡;- ꒰ °bus 304 ꒱ by @iyeonjuni 🕊️💌

- ≡;- ꒰ °apple cider ꒱ by @tyunlatte 🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °new adjustment ꒱ by @gyua🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °marmalade memories ꒱ by @itgirlgyu🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °oh! my mistake?! ꒱ by @tyunlatte🕊️

- ≡;- ꒰ °take one, scene one & action! ꒱ by @angelbythewindow🕊️

#*ೃ༄hobisrecs #tomorrow x together #choi yeonjun #choi soobin #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #hueningkai #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #huening kai x reader #txt imagines #txt smau #txt angst #txt fluff #txt scenarios #txt fanfic

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meatballlady · 10 months

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Good Omens Season 2: What We Know So Far Dottie and Sadie Edition

All of the info about GOS2, especially Dottie and Sadie, in one place. (Note, this is satirical and there are no actual spoilers in this post afaik)

For the most up to date details, check out the tag #special spoilers on Neil Gaiman's tumblr.

Cast

Returning:

[Fennec foxes, various] as Crowley

Michael Sheen as Aziraphale

Jon Hamm [Chinchilla, name unconfirmed] as Gabriel

Note: there have been no official announcements regarding the casting of the following new characters:

Michael Sheen as Dottie (unconfirmed)

David Tennant as Sadie (unconfirmed)

Michael Sheen as The Master Spy (unconfirmed)

Giant Pretzel

Sadie's Brother

Aziraphale's Mother-in-Law

Sadie's Kittens

Production Note: Someone (undisclosed) was bitten in regards to the fennec foxes filming with Crowley's wife.

What do we know about the Season 2 episodes?

There will be 6 episodes.

So far, two specific episodes have been announced (although it has not been confirmed which episodes they are):

"Jam Factory" episode, which contains a magic poster covered in jam

"Girls Night Out" episode, in which we will spend a lot of time with Dottie and Sadie (Crowley and Aziraphale's wives)

The Plot

First, a detailed plot summary of Season 2:

"Crowley and Aziraphale, who in this season are both undertakers in Birmingham, and their wives, Dottie and Sadie, go on holiday together to the South of France. The boys get very drunk at a wine tasting, and their wives have to bring them home to the hotel, where Aziraphale (still drunk) puts on the gorilla costume he finds in a closet. Imagine Crowley's shock, when he sees a gorilla climbing out of the window of the hotel! Now, it just so happens that a master spy who looks exactly like Aziraphale hid the microfilm plans for a missile in Crowley's bathroom, and has returned to obtain the microfilm, which is hidden in a book of naughty seaside postcards that Dottie found earlier and threw out of the window. When the police turn up looking for the gorilla, they find the master spy but think it's actually Aziraphale. Fortunately Sadie realises that the pineapple-shaped birthmark has vanished from Aziraphale's left elbow which means that he's an imposter and she and Dottie set out to rescue him in his gorilla costume from the circus that he's been sold to by an unscrupulous animal welfare centre operative. And then there are lots of cats and horses. The end."

Additional plot details:

Crowley and Aziraphale and their wives will go on their honeymoons at the same time in the same little French town, during the annual marmalade convention.

Aziraphale will have a new Season 2 Catchphrase - "Ooh-heck, it's the wife!" (at one point, he will shout this whole clutching a toilet plunger)

Several stories will be set in the tomato sauce factories they all work in.

Dottie's phone will be broken at the outing to Blackpool.

In episode 4, it will be revealed that Dottie and Sadie and their husbands have unknowingly all been booked in the same hotel room.

There will be a pie fight scene at the inflatable gorilla factory (which will clarify a lot about Aziraphale and Crowley's interpersonal relationships).

Aziraphale will attempt to summon a magic gorilla, in order to obtain one of the four fruits of the apocalypse (e.g. the Banana of Doom).

The Giant Pretzel will give Crowley a magic peach.

There will be a very moving scene when Dottie thinks that Sadie is pregnant but actually Sadie is planning to get a kitten.

This detail about the kitten(s?): "The arrival of the kitten will also be delightful, but I'm not promising it doesn't mean that the season won't end with the patter of tiny feet. Let's just say that two sets of twins would mean double the fun for everybody."

Aziraphale will be dead by the time Crowley goes on his secret mission. Aziraphale's wife will inherit the book shop, which she runs with her brother.

This detail about Gabriel's story arc: "Gabriel came to Earth to go on holiday to Spain with Aziraphale and Crowley and their wives, Dottie and Sadie. He's working as an art critic and when he sees the picture hanging in Crowley's bed and breakfast bedroom he realizes it's an original painting by Jerry Picasso (Pablo's baby brother) and resolves to steal it on the same night that the neighborhood Dress as a Burglar and Win a Fridge competition is held. Hilarity ensues."

The flashback scenes will be of where Crowley and Aziraphale both met their wives.

Season 2 will end with a dance-off mix-up on a French Nudist Beach, with several enormous inflatable animals and Aziraphale's mother-in-law dressed in a gorilla costume.

On Goncharov's influence on Season 2:

"The whole of Season 2 of Good Omens was inspired by Goncharov. Dottie and Sadie, Aziraphale and Crowley's wives, were basically my take on Perdita and Brigitte, the two tourists who worked in the condom factory, and the whole Goncharov helium balloons and clowns sequence. For that matter, without Goncharov it would never have occurred to me to have made the comedy in episode 4 the fact that Dottie and Sadie and their husbands have unknowingly all been booked in the same hotel room, or to have had the Archangel Gabriel played by a chinchilla. "

#good omens #gos2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #Dottie and Sadie #special spoilers

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gayandfairycore · 1 year

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Marmalade and mischievous mornings

Summary: spending a morning in 35 portland row, regular shenanigans ensue between the four of you.

Word count: roughly 800 words(?)

A/n: this is my first time writing for lockwood and co. So I hope I did the characters justice! Feedback is muchly appreciated but please do be kind, This is not proof read.

The smell of toast, and marmalade filled the little kitchen at 35 Portland row, the comforting yellow light of the kitchen casted a warm shadow over the inhabitants of the house. The thinking cloth white, and yet covered in inky black doodles, and words scrawled messily down on the white tablecloth. the biscuit crumbs that seeming always found home on the table had began to make your arms itch as you sat next to your friends around the table, a warm cup of tea in hand.

As an ever drying pen is left uncapped, and discarded. The soft linen curtains blew in the mid morning air a conversation started to arise between the group of four. The conversation went a little something like George rattling on about the case they had just completed, Lucy calling the fact that it was clearly was not a low level type one and was actually very strong type two and that George was getting rusty on his research skills.

you couldn’t help finding it a bit funny that everyone around the table were in their pjs having a slow morning like usual to rejuvenate themselves after exhausting nightly escapades.

George had yet again refused to wear trousers, Lockwood a plain white tshirt on, as opposed to his regular suit and cut tie. Lucy an oversized shirt, and some comfy shorts, you having adorned something quite similar to Lucy. opting for a band shirt, pj shorts and some fluffy socks. It didn’t look like only last night three out of the four had almost died, in fact it looked as if the four of them had just had a slumber party.

Sadly it wasn’t a slumber party, instead they spent majority of last night running for their lives in a panic, away from a powerful ghost that they were unprepared to face. so majority of the group were surely going to be aching for the next few days.

munching down on a piece of toast and sipping your tea, the warmth from the chipped glass radiated to your hands, the steam from your tea momentarily being inhaled. a soft smile graced your features as you sipped your tea, Lucy and George’s bicker had yet to be stifled.

When you joined the agency Lockwood had actually warned you to usually just tune them out, that’s what he did. It made you laugh originally but dwelling on it now you’ve decided tonight you’ll pull him aside an ask him to teach you to tune out the friendly bickering.

“clearly you’re just a bit rubbish of a ghost hunter then!” George yelled, clutching his biscuit as he swung out his hands, shrugging his shoulders.

“Rubbish?!” Lucy exclaimed in faux outrage, a piece of buttered toast hanging from her mouth as she spoke the gravity of her exclamation declining as it came out muffled by the aforementioned toast.

“I am not rubbish, george karim! how many times have I come to your rescue? Hmm. You wouldn’t call me rubbish then!” The brunette persisted pointing her half eaten toast piece at him her eyes glared at the boy.

Knocking the piece of toast away from himself, “that’s different!” He retorted as slumped back in his chair slightly coy smile adorning his features.

“Oh is it?” The brunette raised her eyebrows her voice no longer yelling, George gulped quietly slumping impossibly deeper in his chair at the girl, her voice lowered in a warning. The same warning voice she used when they had first met. Watching the scene play out from across the table, toothy grin on your face as you admired your friends, your eyes caught Lockwoods. majority of his face hidden behind a crumpled and tea stained newspaper.

You watched as he shook his head at his friends antics, chuckling into his tea cup. Your eyes meeting in a silent melancholic comforting moment.

your attention only moving when you heard your name called, ”cmon y/n back me up!” Lucy’s expecting gaze told you that you had missed something.

Your eyes darting between the pair nodding unsurely and feigning confidence as you replied with an “oh yeah, absolutely what she said.” Before tilting your head in subtle exasperation taking a large sip of your tea, to mask your embarrassment of admiring Lockwood so much that you had managed to tune out the pair.

“No! Y/n how could you!” George exclaimed mock outraged taking over his expression as he slumped back in defeat, Lucy’s laughter filled the air, a lost expression passed over your face as you glanced between the pair, Lockwood pulling you into his side to answer your unspoken question,

“she just stated she’s the better researcher than him, and that anyone would agree she could do it with her eyes closed.” Lockwood smirked stifling a chuckle as he let go of your arms “and you just agreed with her”

The boy smirked, flicking out his news paper with flourish.

Your mouth formed a ‘o’ at the revelation, before a cocky smirk overtook your face “I mean George may be a the best researcher- No offence, Luce-” you pause, looking at their confused and impatient faces with a coy smile hands in in the air as you point to them.

“But what I want to know is, whose the best ghost hunter?” Leaning back in your chair you watch as chaos ensues clasping your hands tigether like you were an old villain

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Both Lucy and Lockwood exclaim, the latter dropping his news paper onto the table and the force shaking and spilling his tea.

A silence formed over the room, as George watched as his competitive friends began to turn on eachother in friendly competition.

“No offence Lockwood, you may be a prodigy and all that but it’s got to go to Lucy!”

“Y/n!” Lockwood exclaimed his eyes darting wildly as his mouth agape

George reclining in his seat as he stifles a laugh lockwood whirling around to face the boy attempting to look serious and upset.

“George- do you think this is funny?!” The ebony haired boy exclaims, as a chuckle breaks midway through his facade as he speaks.

A mischievous grin adorns George’s face as he replies “I do actually I think this is very funny!”

“Lucy cmon back me up here!?” Lockwood pleads his hands together in a prayer eyebrows raised

“Sorry Lockwood!” Lucy retorts “But y/ns right I’m just the superior ghost hunter.” The girl replies straightening her posture and flipping up imaginary jacket cuffs.

A plan begins to formulate in lockwoods mind “Well if it’s like that then” he states before pulling you into him and tickling you

Between bouts of giggles you exclaim “lockwood! Lockwood! No! Oh cmon!”

His fingers never stopping their assault at your side no matter how much you try to wriggle away, he only stops tickling you to bargain

“Say that I’m the best ghost hunter you’ve ever known!”

Struggling to breathe through your laughter you chuckle out an estranged “No!”

Lockwood smirks “Alright then.”

His fingers moving at your sides painfully fast breathlessness taking over you, as tears well in your eyes loud laughter fills the kitchen.

pouting your lips you exclaim in defeat“okay! Okay! You’re the best ghost hunter I’ve ever known!”

Lockwood stops his assault at your sides smiling and slinging his arm over your shoulder before he taunts the brown eyed girl

“see Luce, there’s only one person here whose the best ghost hunter-“ mischievous looks are shared between you, George, and Lucy. As you move yourself from under the arms of the boy.

Lucy exclaims a “sorry Lockwood! But it’s not you, george get him!” And with her exclamation both you and george begin to ambush the boy flinging your body onto his back watching as he loses his footing. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck like he was giving you a piggyback.

“Ah- uh oh!” His yells voice high pitched and shrieking laughter fills the room despite the mess that had somehow accumulated over the time you had been in a tickle fight.

The spilled tea over old newspaper clippings a spilled tub Or marmalade staining the thinking cloth

As the sound of a camera flashing momentarily blinds both you and Lockwood as you both come toppling down the wooden floor your body above lockwoods.

Bashfulness blooms in your chest “oh uh sorry-“

Lockwoods narrows his eyes in disappointment “No it’s quite alright” he murmurs. Moving to sit up on his elbows a look of surprise takes over his face as you turn to look behind you

Your two friends about to dog pile you both both you and Lockwood exclaim almost at the same time “George, Lucy you don’t have to do this!”

The two share a glance at eachother before flinging their bodies onto you both collectively collapsing your attempts to get up. groans leaving you and Lockwood at the added weight.

#Lockwood and co #Lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #lucy carlyle #Lucy carlyle x reader #george karim #George karim x reader #Lockwood and co fluff #x reader

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boytumms · 2 months

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Jae Anon here!

I had an idea that popped into my head after seeing something from, if I remember correctly, marmalade-draws. I could be wrong. But basically, a spell or a piece of jewelry or something is enchanted/cast to make anything Person A eats appear in Person B’s stomach.

Here’s my twist on it. It works both ways. So Person B can eat and it’ll appear in Person A’s stomach.

Enjoy!

Oliver prepared his suit and tie to attend his sister’s wedding. As he did so, he had an idea.

“Hey Elijah! Come in here for a second please!” Oliver called out, smirking a little as he heard his boyfriend’s footsteps.

“What’s up Oliver?” Elijah asked, leaning in the doorway. He raised an eyebrow as Oliver handed over a small necklace.

“So you know how I’m into stuffing? Well, I thought it would be fun if you could do it while I was at my sister’s wedding. Then we could have fun when I get back,” Oliver said, smiling as he put a matching necklace around his neck and tucked it under his shirt.

Elijah couldn’t help but smirk at the idea, putting the necklace on. He was very excited for this.

“You betcha. But how do you want to let me to know when to stop? I doubt you’ll have time to look on your phone,” Elijah said, a little concern showing in his voice.

“I’ll drink something so you feel it in your stomach. It’s the quickest and easiest way to do it. I’m gonna be late if I stall any longer. Start whenever you feel ready,” Oliver said, placing a quick peck on Elijah’s cheek before running out the door.

Oliver made it to the wedding with time to spare. As he sat in his seat, waiting for something to happen, he was surprised that Elijah hadn’t eaten anything yet. He went almost the whole wedding without feeling anything.

When dinner was served, Oliver decided to get a little payback on Elijah. He ate almost nonstop taking thirds and fourths on his plate. By the time he finished the fifth plate, he started feeling his stomach begin to get full.

Oliver sighed quietly as he rested his hand on his stomach, excited to feel himself being stuffed. It took a minute, but he felt his stomach become uncomfortably full. Elijah must’ve been taking some big bites because Oliver felt his stomach swell with each one.

Oliver was soon nearing his maximum limit, his stomach growling in response. It wasn’t noticeable yet, but his round belly was beginning to push on his buttoned dress shirt. Oliver took a glass of water and quickly drank it, becoming worried when Elijah didn’t stop. Oliver quickly got up and said his goodbyes, blaming it on an early work day for tomorrow.

Oliver ran to his car and hurriedly started it, groaning as he felt his suit begin straining against his stomach. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and suit, not wanting to ruin it by popping the buttons. Oliver unzipped his pants, frowning as his stomach easily settled into the open space. As relieving as it was, he was not enthused, despite feeling turned on by the experience. Oliver drove as fast as the speed limit would let him, letting up belches and groans as he did.

By the time Oliver arrived home, he could barely get out of his car with how heavy his stomach was. He looked like he could easily be six months pregnant. The stuffed boy waddled his way into the house, using his hands to hold his stuffed belly. Even then, he could feel mouthful after mouthful of food being shoved into his already strained tummy.

“Elijah! What the heck?!” Oliver exclaimed, closing the door behind him with a huff. In front of Elijah on their coffee table was still loads of food, all meant for Oliver.

“I was napping when you rudely gave me this food baby, so I figured you could use a couple food babies in return,” Elijah said with a grin as he caressed his swollen, bloated abdomen. He immediately chugged a two liter soda, eyes intently on his boyfriend’s stomach.

Oliver groaned as he lowered himself into the soft couch, his stomach swelling and gurgling with the soda. He put his hand up to ask his boyfriend to stop, but Elijah was intent on watching Oliver wriggle uncomfortably. As time went on, Elijah watched as Oliver moaned and groaned with his growing abdomen, clearly stuffed beyond what he was used to.

Elijah decided to stop when Oliver looked nice and round, a record of looking nine months pregnant. He took the necklaces off them and smiled at his boyfriend, taking to gently rubbing and caressing the swollen, red tummy of his boyfriend.

“Now I feel kinda bad. How about next time, you can go to an all you can eat buffet and fill me this full for a change?” Elijah asked, working out bubbles for the little bit of relief Oliver could get. Soon enough, the stuffed man fell asleep. Elijah put a blanket over Oliver, returning to his original seat.

Elijah looked at the pile of food that was still left, deciding to eat the rest so it wouldn’t go to waste. After a couple hours, Elijah sat back and marveled at his stuffed belly. He wasn’t nearly as big as Oliver, but he was close. His shirt stayed snuggly on his stomach, unable to move from the sheer amount of pressure from his bulging stomach.

Elijah now felt really bad for Oliver, feeling what he went through and now understanding his boyfriend. He soon succumbed to his food coma, snoring softly as he lay next to Oliver. The next day was a chore, both still being overly stuffed and bloated. Elijah made sure to tend to Oliver, ignoring his own pains and setting to help relieve Oliver of his.

Awww, these two sound so cute!!! Constantly in a cycle of getting revenge on each other for stuffing one another too much, then feeling bad and coming home to sooth their poor partners over stuffed belly

#ask #anonymous #tummy ache #stuffing #belly ache #stomachache #writings #jae anon

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pieroulette · 10 months

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Hello! Can I please request a Nicho one where he comes home after a long day and he is comforted by you? Like he falls down into your arms and you play with his hair until he relaxes against you. Just some comfort fluff

COMFORT IN YOUR ARMS | NICHOLAS. &TEAM

warning : nothing but fluff !! ♡

word count : 1.1k

The door flew open with a dark silhouette casting against the floor.

Nicholas threw his shoes in restless manner and drags himself across the hallway—searching for someone.

“I’m home.” his voice echoed throughout the house, yet no answer was given in return signifying that your presence was nowhere. His exhausted mind deduced that you might be having matters outside and so he decided to wait for you, sprawling himself on the couch. His fluttering eyelashes looks up to the circular motion of the ceiling fan, remnants of how his day went about had him sighing, one that was audible enough to hear in the living room along any other signs of life.

Nicholas tried his best to sleep yet the stress engulfed his head to the point his shutted eyes blew open yet again, darting lazily around the space; observing every object on top of cupboards, shelf, and the table before him. The greeny hues of the plant glint against the marmalade rays peering out from the window, adding more to his perspective of gloomy atmosphere.

The door creaks opened and Nicholas was quick to notice, turning his head over to the entrance—he wanted to stand up and greet you yet his feet remained glued on the carpet, betraying his initial wishes. His body remain limp and firm on the comfort of the couch. Normally he’ll be the first one to open the door for you whenever he heard the audible dangling of your car keys, and yet he didn’t even hear it this time.

“I’m home!” You exclaimed after taking a deep inhale through your nose, excitement fueled your body as Nicholas should’ve been home by now. And he did. There he was with his familiar soft ruffled hair peeking out on top of the couch, that sight itself had you suppressing your giggle as he could be sleeping right now.

“Hey, love.”

Or maybe not, you eliminated the initial idea of pranking him. “How was your day, Nicho?”

“Good, how's yours?” You held the need to frown at the way his voice sounded gloomy, low in volume almost like a breathless sigh.

“Tiring! But it's okay, anyways how was it, your work?” You asked him as you place your coat on the rack, pulling your heels away and placing it neatly in the shoe rack along with Nicholas’.

“Awful.” From the couch, he replied yet in the same low tone but this time with traces of hoarseness in it that had you asking him to repeat it one more time yet he brushes it off and opted to ask instead about something else. Yet you were not letting this go based on how his usual beaming face are now contorted into dull and gloomy expression, one that had your heart drooping in realisation.

“Did something happen?” The couch flattened a few inches down as you seated yourself beside Nicholas’ sprawled form, your lips pursed in concern as you notice the lack of rays within his fixated orbs on the ceiling.

A few beats of silence passed.

You waited in patience, for him to pull himself out from his dull shell, and he notice this as he finally break his prolonged gaze from the ceiling to you, and you didn’t miss how his gaze softened in a miniscule detail that may seem insignificant yet one that your heart wholly catches up in a millisecond, those traces of love never falters despite the lack of speech.

“Just,” He spoke, yet once again in a breathless speech paired with a following sigh. “Quite exhausting.”

That’s all, that’s all he said.

And that was all you needed for you to lean in and wrap your arms around his sprawled form, your other hand pulling his neck for his head to rest on the side of your shoulder. You placed your chin on top of his head, giving him as much physical contact as possible.

This moment was where asking more questions are not needed, probably as you wouldn’t even be able to understand where exactly did it hit him that he became this way today as you two were in a completely different field of work yet it was enough for you to understand why he was this way—that's why a hug was all you can give for him to understand that you are here for him—despite not being able to understand much.

“It’s okay.” Your voice serves as a melodic hymn, soothing to Nicholas’s ear chords—his silent heart skipping a few beats in a rapid speed, swelling it almost immediately. You rubbed his hair in a tender circular motion that had his lips pouting almost immediately. “You did well, no, you did more than great today. So, let’s get our well deserved rest for today, hm?”

Nicholas nodded slightly, indulging himself in his own home—you.

He pushes himself a few more inches closer to you, resting his head deeper on your shoulder despite the already close proximity. You giggled at his neediness for you and at the way his feathery ruffled hair brushes against the side of your neck, the way his long fingers find it’s way around yours, rubbing your palms together that generates an electrifying sensation of romances and comfort. His body heat mingled with yours, producing a safe amount of serotonin boost that manifests its way to the corner of your lips. A physical manifestation that this boy actually existed, right before you, and beside you.

A few beats of silence passed into minutes, no words were exchanged, only manifesting each other’s love through the interlaced hands. His thumb rubbed against finger,

His voice vibrated against your neck causing you to slightly pull away, giggling at the tickleness of it. You caressed his soft hair, hushing him to sleep yet the boy in your arms doesn’t seem to be falling into slumber anytime soon. Yet you didn’t question nor say anything as this silent yet comforting moment weighs in extreme importance for you and him—just you and him, in this home built upon the foundation of bond, love, and mutual understanding.

A serene atmosphere that eventually had you drifting to sleep with your head on top of Nicholas, indulging yourself in this one in a lifetime opportunity of true love.

He notices this as his eyes fluttered open, now a lingering spark floating in his orbs as he slightly lifted his head to take a glimpse at your sleeping face, one that he grew to adore. The corner of his lips arched up in a tiny yet satisfied smile, squirming a little as to let his fingers grabbed the folded blanket on the side of the couch, pulling it to cover on the two of you as silent as he could—in hopes that it would provide you a little warmth as the grey clouds begins to cover the marmalade shade of the skies, and the weather cooling down along with it.

With that, he settles down and interlaces his fingers back into yours, burying his head back on your neck as he drifted back to sleep with the widest smile adorning his lips.

"Thank you, (Name)."

#&team #andteam #andteam nicholas #&team nicholas #&team hard thoughts #&team hard hours #andteam fluff #andteam fanfic #andteam reactions #&team scenarios #&team fluff

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natjennie · 2 years

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I don't understand how they made a character as perfect as edward teach. the combination of the writing and the casting and the improvising. he's the character of all time. he's blackbeard. he attacked a spanish naval ship to save someone who told him to suck eggs in hell because he thought it was interesting. he has a collection of random skulls and leather knickknacks and bones and metal spikes and shit in his captain's cabin. he wears a fun little purple crop top with his cropped, one-armed leather jacket. his tattoos include a beautifully detailed bird across his sternum, thematically poignant winding tentacles, and a blob-y stick-figure lookin mermaid. he hurls furniture off the ship to shoot at with the cannons. he strapped a knife to a turtle and made it fight a crab. he commandeered a french vessel to have dining etiquette lessons, and when one of his hostages was racist, he told his crew member to skin him with a snail fork and tie him to something heavy to throw overboard. he was going to shoot a whole boat full of aristocrats for being passive aggressive. he loves marmalade and takes his tea with seven sugars. he is depressed. he's autistic and adhd coded out the wazoo. he hates nature. he threatened his crush to make him stab him during a sparring match. he feeds people their own toes. he plans elaborate works of theater to confuse and frighten his enemies, including making sexy poses in the fog. he has a piece of red silk from his childhood that he keeps in his breast pocket as a reminder that he deserves fine things. he killed his dad and lies to people about it being a kraken attack. he switched clothes with his crush the first day he met him, then paraded around on deck and did a funny little flourish in his new fancy clothes. he is everything to me.

#i could go on #do you understand. he's insane #he's perfect and i love him #edward teach #ed teach #ofmd

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catharusustulatus · 2 months

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Who do I need to talk to to get Joe Keery cast in some big roles. Pookie get in the audition room!

#Joe Keery #I love his music I loved Marmalade #but where are the casting announcements?#cast this man as a cute guidance counselor and 100 other roles

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tuiccim · 2 years

Text

Angelface

Pairing: Nomad Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Smut NSFW 18+. Virginity loss, innocence kink, praise, pleasure dom, sex work, unprotected sex/exposure (wrap it before you tap it!.)

Word count: 4k

Summary: It just never happened for you and you were tired of being a virgin. You wanted experience and you wanted your first time to be good, so you hire one of the infamous madam, Lady Marmalade's gentlemen to introduce you to the world of sex.

A/N: This is for the Thot Neighborhood's Lady Marmalade Writing Challenge organized by @yarnforbrains. Thank you to the lovely @whisperlullabyfor beta reading for me. Lady Marmalade banner by @yarnforbrains. Moodboard and dividers by me.

Dedicated to my darling friend @mjolnir-steve.

You stood in the room you had been shown to and trembled as you waited. Clad in the lingerie you had bought for this night, you take slow breaths while casting your eyes around the room. It was opulent, as was everything in Lady Marmalade’s establishment, but this room was more muted than others you had seen. The king size bed was covered in a soft comforter with silken sheets underneath. Mahogany and green furniture were placed around the room and you wondered if anyone else had ever stood in the middle of it as you did, both scared and excited to be taking this step.

You had chosen carefully among the options for your first adventure. Nomad was described as a pleasure dom who was both gentle and firm. And it didn’t hurt that he was the most delicious looking man you had ever seen. Tall, dark blond, and muscular with a beard and beautiful blue eyes. You were excited to meet him, but when the knock on the door came the butterflies in your stomach worked double time.

“C-come in,” you called.

“Hi. I’m Nomad.”” The adonis that walked in was even larger than you expected and your eyes widened.

“Hi,” you shift uncomfortably.

Nomad steps into your space with an air of self-assurance that makes you feel small. His fingers tip your chin up to look you in the face. “Pretty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“Let’s go over the rules, okay?” His voice is mesmerizing and you find yourself nodding along.

He takes your hand and guides you to a large armchair where he sits. He looks up at you expectantly making you move towards the matching chair but he pulls you into his lap.

“Sit here, Angelface,” he says softly.

“Oh, okay,” you shift in his lap to get more comfortable.

“Careful. I’ll forget to go over the rules if you keep squirming like that.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

“I’m just kidding. Are you nervous, angel?”

“A little. I’ve never done this before.”

“Don’t worry. I'll make sure you enjoy it. First, we need to establish a safe word. Do you have one chosen?” Nomad asks.

“Is tulip okay?” you ask. You’d never had a safe word before but you had read about them and came up with one just in case he asked.

“Perfect. I read your sheet with your limits and preferences,” Nomad asks a few questions that you stammer replies to while he interlaces the guidelines for the night.

In all of his questions you never can quite bring yourself to admit the real reason you’re here. How do you tell him that you chose to lose your virginity in this way? You had come here in hopes that this would be a pleasant and pleasurable experience. You wanted your first time to be enjoyable since it wouldn’t be with someone special.

“You have me all night. When we’re done, would you like me to stay or leave?” Nomad asks. The question throws you off and you panic searching for the right answer. “Hey. It’s okay. You can decide later.”

“I think stay,” you reply tremulously.

“Okay. You can change your mind at any time. Now, I think that was everything we needed to go over,” Nomad smiles as his hand wanders up your thigh and caresses your hip. “Would you like to get started?”

You nod nervously and he captures your chin between his fingers and thumb.

“Words,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl,” he stands with you in his arms and carries you to the bed. Pulling back the covers, he lays you on the silky sheets, unties the robe you wear, and pulls it open revealing the sexy yet innocent lingerie you have beneath. “Beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls his shirt off and settles over you. His lips touch yours gently and when you respond, he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan lowly at the welcome intrusion and feel your body begin to tingle with anticipation. A moment later, his hands are kneading at your breasts and you feel his growing erection pressing against you. Then, suddenly, panic sets in. It was going too fast for you. You needed a minute. You needed more time. You push against his wide chest and try to pull away.

“No. Stop,” you whisper.

Nomad had heard those words slip past many women’s lips to encourage him to get rougher. He grabs your hands and hauls them over your head. His hips press into you harder. Burying his face in your neck, he chuckles, “Like it a little rough, huh, Angelface?”

“No. Please, stop. T- tulip!”

Before you can even entirely register his movement, Nomad is sitting at the end of the bed with his hands up in a non-threatening manner. You sit up, staring at him and breathing heavily.

After giving you a moment to calm, he asks, “Can you tell me what I did that you didn’t like? Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. If you aren’t completely comfortable with what we’re doing then we need to stop. You were right to use your safe word. What do you need, angel?”

“I…” you feel near tears at the moment. Shame welled up in you as you admitted to your lack of experience, “I’ve never done this before. Any of this.”

“Okay. Let me make sure I’m understanding you correctly. When you say you’ve never done this you mean sex?” Nomad cocks his head.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Tell me what you have experienced.”

“Um, kissing. Some p-petting. Over the clothes. I-” you’re so embarrassed you have trouble continuing.

“You? It’s okay, angel. There’s no judgment here. Tell me what it is you’re looking for.”

Exasperated with yourself and the situation, you blurt out, “I’m a virgin and I don’t want to be anymore. I just realized at this point it’s never going to happen the way I thought it would. I want to experience it and I want it to be good. I want to be introduced to it by someone who knows what they’re doing. But at the same time, I’m scared. I’m nervous because I don’t know what I’m doing and it was going so fast. I just wanted to go a little slower. I want to learn what I like and how to do things. I know it’s pathetic and I was scared to tell you before because what if you don’t want a client like that.”

Truth was, Nomad found your confession endearing. His heart went out to you but not out of pity. He was impressed and turned on by your adventurous spirit. He reined in his smile so you wouldn’t think he was laughing at you and explained, “It’s not pathetic. It’s actually pretty cool. It just never happened for you and instead of waiting for it, you found a way to have the experience for yourself the way you want it. I admire that.”

“Really?” you ask, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Really. And, truthfully, it’s hot to think I’ll be the first you ever experience those things with,” he slides closer to you, watching to make sure you didn’t shy away.

“Nomad, you-”

“Steve.”

“What?” you look at him curiously.

“My real name is Steve,” he explains.

Understanding that he was revealing a glimpse beyond the facade to make himself more real to you, you smile, “Steve. You, um, you don’t have to say that. I know it’s not exactly sexy.”

“I think you’re very sexy,” Steve smiles sweetly.

“You have to say that,” you demure.

“No, I don’t. Tell you what, I promise I won’t say anything I don’t mean as long as you promise to be honest with me about what you like and don’t.”

You lick your lips and nod.

“Words,” he whispers.

A thrill goes through you at the command spoken so gently, “Yes, agreed.”

“Good girl,” he says, causing another zephyr of pleasure to trill through you. “Can I touch you?”

Staring at him, you start to nod but then quickly breathe out a yes.

“Fast learner. I like that,” Steve caresses your face and swipes a thumb over your lips. “We’re going to take it slow and I’m going to check in with you as we go. I promise you, angel, I’m going to make sure you enjoy this. Use your safe word if you want me to stop. Tell me if there is something you don’t like. I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

“Yes,” the word comes out embarrassingly fast.

His lips caress yours in a gentle kiss. Pulling back, he looks at you for any apprehension before going back in for another kiss. You take the initiative to put your hand on his chest as your lips flirt with his and a little thrill goes through him. He's surprised at the way he’s reacting to you. He can always perform but he’s never felt this level of attraction or emotion with a client. Maybe it was your innocence or knowing the trust you were putting in him but he was enthralled.

As the kiss deepened, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you onto his lap. He hadn’t wanted to lay you back under him again until you were a little more comfortable. You melt into him, shifting in his lap to bring yourself closer.

“Little squirmer, aren’t you?” Steve whispers as he trails kisses down your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper nervously.

“I like it, angel,” his teeth scrape your skin sending a shiver through you. He pulls you more firmly against him and ruts his hips into you.

You release a small gasp when you feel his erection press against you. Steve pulls the strap of your negligee down your shoulder before pausing with his hand hovering above your breast, “Can I touch you here, angel?”

“Please,” you whisper. Your body is tingling in anticipation of his touch and when his thumb swipes over your nipple you let out a whimper and bury your face in his neck. You berate yourself for sounding so pathetically needy but you were already gushing, and by the time he got to your panties they would be soaked through.

“Don’t hide from me. You like that?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to lay you back and take this off of you. I want to be able to feel every inch of this soft skin."

You laid on the bed feeling vulnerable in only a pair of panties. Steve leans on his arm while trailing a hand back down to your breast. He kisses you with more intensity as his hand makes its way lower on your stomach until his fingertips brush your pantyline. You take a shuddering breath causing him to pull back in order to stare into your eyes, “Okay?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, staring at him wide-eyed.

“Good girl,” he says as he kisses you again.

You whimper into the kiss when his hand brushes your folds. His finger traces your slit and then circles your clit making you moan. "That's it. Let me hear how good it feels."

Steve trails kisses down your neck and chest. When he reaches your breast, he flattens his tongue to give a long lick across your taunt nipple. Your back arches as a little cry escapes you. Encouraged, he does the same to your other side and then switches back and forth between the two making you writhe under him. His fingers had played over your clit making you feel incredibly warm and when he reached to pull the panties off of you, you had lifted up to oblige him.

His fingers rubbed over your clit a few more times and then slipped lower to press at your entrance. Your knees lifted just a bit signaling Steve that you wanted him to continue. He slid one finger into you and you let out a small cry as your sweet cunt seemed to pull him.

"Fuck, you feel good," he says. "Angelface, I want to go down on you."

You nod as you stare up at him, barely managing to whisper a yes.

"Normally, I'd use a dental dam but I want you to feel the warmth and wetness. And, truthfully, I really want to taste you. Is that okay? I've always used protection before and I'm tested regularly…"

"Yes. It's okay," your mind reels. He wanted to taste you? Fuck, that sounded so hot coming out of him. He trailed kisses down your stomach and your breathing picked up. When his lips hit your apex, you let out an exclamation, "Oh!"

"I'm just getting started, angelface," Steve says as he takes a long lick up your slit.

Your eyes slam shut and your head tips back as he works his tongue over you. Grabbing the sheets, you open your legs wider, finding the sensations almost overwhelmingly pleasurable. He works his finger in and out of you in time with his tongue over your clit, building you up expertly. Swirling his tongue in swift circles, all of Steve's concentration is on making this as good for you as possible. When you begin to tremble, your whimpers coming closer together, he knows you're approaching the precipice.

"Let go, angel. Come for me," he encourages before diving back in.

"Oh, fuck, oh, God," you whine before letting out a high pitch whimper as your orgasm breaks over you.

Steve works you through it making sure to pull every sweet sound and shudder from you. When you've come down, he kisses his way slowly back up to your lips. He smiles down at you and then stands to reach for the buttons on his pants but you put a hand out.

"C-can I do that?" You ask timidly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, angelface,” Steve watches enthralled as you glance up at him innocently and then concentrate on taking his pants off. You’re surprised when you realize he isn’t wearing underwear beneath them and take a quick breath as his length bobs in front of you.

Tentatively, you reach out to touch him before pulling your hand back, “Is it okay to touch you?”

Steve nods down at you.

Smirking, you raise an eyebrow and repeat what he had told you several times, “Words.”

Steve’s cock jumps at the sassy remark and he reaches down to squeeze your face with one hand, “I’m gonna let that go but get sassy with me again and some discipline will be in order. Now, touch me. However you want.”

A thrill goes through you at the authoritative way he speaks. Reaching out, you brush your fingertips over his hard length. The skin was surprisingly soft in contrast and you trail your fingers down him until you gently cup his heavy balls. His breathing picks up and you wrap your fingers around him to pump gently. Licking your lips, you watch as he twitches in your hand.

“That’s good,” Steve whispers. The sweet way you were studying him and then watching your tongue wet your lips as if they wanted to wrap around him made him nearly feral. He wanted to throw you back on the bed and bury himself in you but he held himself off allowing you to explore. A drop of precum beads the tip and, without a second thought, your tongue darts out to lap it up.

“Fuck!” Steve pulls away from you.

“I’m sorry! I should have asked! I’m so sorry!” you cry, terrified you had overstepped.

His chest is heaving and hands flex at his sides as his eyes bore into yours.

“I’ll…I’ll go,” You start to stand but are suddenly pushed back on the bed. Steve’s body covers yours and he kisses you fiercely. You gasp but wrap your arms around him. His knee wedges between your legs and you know he can feel your wetness as you grind against his thigh.

“Fuck, fuck. Jesus,” Steve exclaims as he rolls off you and onto his back. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as he breathes deeply. You stare at him in confusion and when he finally turns to look at you, his gut clenches. “I’m sorry, angelface. It’s okay. Everything’s fine.”

“I don’t understand what just happened.”

“When, that… fuck. That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced and all I wanted to do was bury my cock as deep in you as I could. I had to stop myself and calm down before I did something stupid. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please,” you whisper, “please hurt me. I want this. I want you.”

“Angel, you can’t say things like that. I’m gonna combust,” Steve groans.

You take a moment to consider and then throw a leg over to straddle him. You rub yourself against his cock, “Please, please, Steve.”

“Fuck, let me put a condom on.”

“Do you have to? Can I feel you just this one time? Please,” you can barely contain yourself. You were so ready to sink down on him, to finally feel what it’s like to be full and fucked.

“Go slow, angelface. I don’t want to hurt you,” he groans as his hands grip your hips.

It was awkward for a moment while you try to position him at your entrance until he reaches to help and then you let out a whimper as you feel his head press in. He watched you, every look that flashed across your face as you slowly worked him in. Fuck, he could come just watching you on top of him. The stretch was intense at first and a few bites of pain hit you.

“Wait right there,” he commands when you pause and wince. His thumb rubs over your clit and he talks to you as he builds you up. “You look so fucking hot on top of me. You licked my cock earlier and I nearly lost my mind. Couldn’t wait to get inside you and then when I try to hold myself off, you climb right on top and go after what you want. Fuck, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. Look at me. Look in my eyes. I want you to come. I’m not going to let you move until you do and I can tell you want to. You want to ride my cock while I’m playing with you so you can know what it feels like but not yet. First I want you to come and clench around my cock. You can do it for me, angelface.”

His words push you over the edge and you come with a cry, clenching around his cock as your body cries out for more of him. You begin to move again, the pain a distant memory already. Your body welcomes him and you can’t find it in yourself to care about anything but the meeting of your bodies.

“Good girl. That made it easier, huh? Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Oh, God, Steve! I didn’t know. It feels so good. Fuck,” you whine as you move and within a few seconds you come again, squeezing his cock.

Steve’s face is in a grimace as he holds himself back from coming inside of you. When you’ve come down, he grabs you and flips you under him. His hips make slow circles against you, rubbing your clit with his V and making you lift your legs to draw him even closer. He kisses you deeply, his tongue pressing into your mouth before he pulls back to press his forehead against yours.

“I’ll be right back, angel. I’m gonna slip a condom on. You’re making it hard to hold myself back.”

“Okay,” you whisper. You watch him slip out and you immediately miss the stretch of his cock in you. You didn’t think it would be this good. The way he talked to you, the way he moved, everything about him made you feel so incredibly comfortable and turned on.

When he came back to the bed, your bodies fit together so naturally that you could swear he had already memorized you. He kissed you and gently pressed in again.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered.

“Feel good, angelface?”

“Yes. I…” you trail off.

“You what? Talk to me,” Steve stares into your eyes.

“I want more,” you feel your face heat, unsure how to express yourself.

“More what?”

“I want to come with you inside me again. I… I want you to come.”

“Angel! Fucking hell, you’re so hot and so sweet,” Steve rains praises down on you as he moves a little faster. He builds you up with kisses and praise. His cock hits the sweet spot inside you and then he presses down on your mound as he fucks into you harder. Your eyes fly wide and you cry out as your body spasms and squirts.

“Good girl. Good fucking girl. So fucking good for me,” Steve groans out the words as he comes hard. He collapses, rolling you both on your sides and pulls you against him. When your breathing returns to normal, he smiles at you, “I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Me, too,” you reply and then giggle.

Steve laughs, charmed by this playful side of you, “I can do better.”

And he did. He spent the next few hours tutoring you, with drink breaks and conversation in between. He had you on your back, your belly, all fours, on top, and standing in the shower. When you finally passed out in his arms, after he utterly exhausted you, he smiled as he buried his face in your hair to sleep.

Waking up several hours later, sunlight streaming in through the windows, you felt his cock pressed against you from behind as he spooned you.

“Good morning,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you smiled.

“Can I have you one more time, angelface? Please?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer. You feel him roll away and then hear the crinkle of a wrapper. A second later, he’s pressed against your back and his hand slides down to the apex of your legs. You intake a sharp breath when he brushes your folds and guides his cock inside of you.

“Are you okay? Are you sore?” He pauses.

“A little but I’m okay. Please don’t stop.”

He’s incredibly gentle. His hips slowly working his cock in and out of you. You reach back to pull his face into your neck. You close your eyes and relish in the feel of him and the pleasure he gives. You had more orgasms than you thought was possible the night before and you were surprised when he was able to build you up again so easily.

“It’s so good, Steve. It’s so good,” you sob.

“I know, angel. Fuck, you feel so good. Are you going to come for me again, pretty girl? Huh? I need to feel you coming around me again. Now, be a good girl and come for me. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yes, yes!” you tremble as your orgasm overtakes you. The praise gave you almost as much pleasure as his talented cock and fingers.

“Good girl. Such a good, fucking girl,” Steve shudders as you milk him with your orgasm.

A little later, you’re dressed and ready to leave. Steve watches you with melancholy. He had never had an experience like the night before and he was already craving your body again but he also had enjoyed your mind. Conversation and laughter had flown easily between the two of you and he found himself hoping. Kissing you, he smiles and says, “You’ll come back to see me, won’t you? I have more to teach you.”

You smile at him and nod before kissing him one last time and slipping out of the room. You felt bad for lying to him. You knew yourself and you wouldn’t be able to stop from falling for the man that had shown you such kindness, gentleness, and pleasure. After all, you had accomplished your goal. Glancing back at the man watching you from the top of the stairs, you felt like crying knowing you’d never see him again.

Part Two

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the-bad-guys-2-reportage · 17 days

Text

Everything we know about The Bad Guys 2.

A post detailing everything about the sequel of The Bad Guys, from confirmed to unconfirmed information, leaks & more. We'll update the post whenever something new comes up, so stay tuned!

🟢Confirmed info:

On March 26th 2024, DreamWorks officially announced a sequel of The Bad Guys in development, coming to theaters August 1st 2025.

Synopsis: "The Bad Guys are struggling to find trust and acceptance in their newly minted lives as Good Guys, when they are pulled out of retirement and forced to do ‘one last job' by an all-female squad of criminals."

Just like the first film, whose story was loosely based on book 1 through 4 of The Bad Guys book series, it appears the sequel will be loosely based on the events of book 5 through 10 of the book series.

Returning cast & crew:

Pierre Perifel (director)

Damon Ross (producer)

JP Sans (co-director, was previously head of character animation)

Daniel Pemberton (composer)

Sam Rockwell - Mr. Wolf

Marc Maron - Mr. Snake

Craig Robinson - Mr. Shark

Akwafina - Ms. Tarantula

Anthony Ramos - Mr. Piranha

Zazie Beetz - Diane Foxington

Richard Ayoade - Professor Marmalade

Alex Borstein - Misty Luggins

Lilly Singh - Tiffany Fluffit

Voice actors for the new characters have not yet been revealed. Director Pierre Perifel previously confirmed that Marmalade's real identity is indeed true to what it is in the books (no spoilers) although it is unknown if the reveal shall be made in the sequel, despite him strongly pointing towards it being the case.

🟡Yet to be confirmed:

According to IMDb, the budget of The Bad Guys 2 is that of $80M. The budget of the first film was $70M. It also claims that the creator & author of The Bad Guys himself (Aaron Blabey) will write the script alongside Ethan Cohen. Aaron was previously the producer on the first film, in order to ensure the characters he created are well portrayed.

🟣Leaks:

On March 9th 2023, an insider known as "The V Scooper" on twitter revealed that a sequel of DreamWorks' The Bad Guys is in development. He even provided some extra plot details of the movie, which closely resembles that of the official synopsis. Although he commented that some plot points may change in the final version of the script, since that was still early on in production.

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vukovich · 1 year

Text

Like a Felon Knows the Law

tw: lice and "Mudblood"

During their fifth year, Hogwarts had a head lice problem. Nobody was sure if it started in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff first, but the Hufflepuff common room was a likely suspect, owing to the amount of upholstery.

"None of our concern," Draco had told Pansy, tucking a bite of toast with orange marmalade in his cheek. "It's never been an issue before. Muggle problem."

Pansy's hum was unconvinced.

The next day, Longbottom showed up to lunch with his hair buzzed short. That night, all the brushes, combs, and hats in the Slytherin boys' dormitory had disappeared, and the pillowcases smelled like sanitising spells.

Theo absently scratched the back of his head in befuddlement, and Draco's pristine life flashed before his eyes. It was dull, as far as flashbacks go.

He didn't sleep a wink that night, and spent it over-invested in every tickle of a hair near his ear, or his neck, or down the centre of his back. And so it was with utmost exhaustion, irritation, and suspicion that he greeted Granger in the morning.

"This is all your fault," he said, sneering down at her on their way out of the Great Hall. "Filthy Mudblood, bringing vermin into the castle."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes.

A haughty chuckle came from behind Draco. He turned to find Justin Finch-Fletchley, local Muggleborn aristocrat, smirking. He was insufferable, given that his upbringing mirrored Draco's, but the optics were better.

Justin brushed past him, throwing him off-step. "At least," Justin said snidely, "Mudbloods know how to get rid of lice." He cast Draco a backward glance. "Good luck hexing your way out of this, Malfoy."

Draco didn't sleep that night, either.

Five AM found him sitting on the edge of a very peeved, very bleary-eyed Theo's bed.

"The fuck you want me to do?" Theo mumbled. "Avada Kedavra your scalp like some William Tell shit?"

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

Draco watched Theo fall back asleep. Then nudged him. "Hey."

Theo snarled with his eyes still shut. "What?"

Draco sighed. "Nothing."

But it wasn't nothing, it was a big, fat something, because Justin wasn't wrong. Draco went home for the weekend, and his parents had never heard of head lice. He went so far ask to ask the portraits, and then the House Elves, who after much pestering and shaking of their bald heads, finally looked him square in the eye and said, "Why would Elves know of Muggle hair parasites?"

Draco shuddered at the word 'parasites' and hid in his bedroom until Sunday night.

When he arrived back at school, two of the Ravenclaw First Year boys had fresh haircuts, and he chose to interpret it as further evidence of pestilence.

He hid in the library. Only, it wasn't hiding if he had a stack of books next to him on the floor, below the window seat. He turned the spines against the wall so no one walking past would know that they were exclusively texts on invasive species, magical extermination, and livestock management.

Potter was the first one to stop and harass him.

"You look like you're waiting for your mum to come pick you up after school."

Draco obliquely understood him and chose to take offense. He thumbed through a promising few pages on woodlouse habitat preferences and wondered if his hair was at all similar to decomposing wood fibres.

"Potter, I'm surprised they even allow you inside the library after you-"

With the toe of his shoe, Potter nudged the pile of books away from the wall, then adjusted his glasses to read the titles. His eyebrows rose, then dimples formed on either side of his lips as he suppressed a grin.

"Doing some research, are we?" he asked. Draco sat, mortified, and said nothing. Potter's ire thawed around the edges, and he looked down with something near pity. "You're not likely to get lice, you know. Or, not likely to get them and not notice, I guess. It's-" he gestured to his own hair "It'd be really obvious if you got them, I mean. Because your hair's so light. And it's easier to find them in straight hair."

"Oh," was all Draco came up with, because it didn't solve the problem. He rallied the bit of piss and vinegar he had left. "I suppose you'd know, wouldn't you, Potter?"

It was supposed to be a thrown lance, but it landed like a desperately tossed lifeline.

"Yeah," Potter said gently. "I mean, I never got them, but we had lice checks at St Grogory's." He rested his bum against the window seat, his knee next to Draco's shoulder. "I could check your hair. You know. If you wanted me to. I guess me and Hermione are probably the only ones who really know how."

Draco's burgeoning phobia won out over his inborn prejudice, and he replied with nothing but a terse nod.

Harry sat on the window bench and, in what he perhaps thought was a brazen display of oblivious male heterosexuality, swung a leg on either side of Draco's body. Giddyup-no-homo.

Draco's shoulders did fit rather nicely between Harry's knees. They both silently regretted wearing their tightest trousers.

Unable to reach his wand in his back pocket, and not having a comb with him, Harry pulled a clean quill from his robe and parted Draco's hair just a centimetre off from where it already lay neatly.

Draco's arms ran with gooseflesh at the keen touch of the nib against his scalp. He sighed the second time Potter drew it through his hair. By the sixth time, Harry had him lay his temple against the inside of his thigh while he stroked through the hair behind Draco's ear.

Eventually, Draco dozed off, and Harry didn't admit that he'd seen every square millimetre of Draco's scalp thrice over. He let Draco sleep against his inner thigh while he read more than anyone needed to know about the mighty woodlouse. Crabs of the undergrowth. Majestic shrimp of the land.

Harry fell asleep with his hand cupping Draco's cheek and dreamt of Fraggle Rock, but it was a coral reef, and Draco was there.

Nothing was found that day in the library. Nothing tangible, anyway. But just to be sure, they kept checking.

Thirty years later, Harry hikes a leg over Draco and sits himself on the shabby floral sofa, in the front room where the telly blocks the bottom of the bay window. Harry watches MASH reruns while Draco watches the street lights come on. His hands sort through Draco's hair by feel.

It's not a surprise to find Draco sitting on the front room floor. His Wizengamot robes were hung in the hall too neatly for him to have had a good day.

Draco lays his head against Harry's inner thigh, and they both sigh. It's not every day they sit like this, but often enough.

Harry doesn't bother asking about Draco's day, because if there were anything Draco could do about it, he wouldn't be sitting on the floor with a book in his lap. Most likely, a trial witness got cold feet, or a policy change was delayed by a committee.

Hermione takes her judicial frustrations out at the driving range, and Draco lets Harry skim them from his scalp with his wand, or a quill nib, or the blunt edge of his fingernails.

On the telly, Hawkeye says something clever, but Harry doesn't catch it, because the edge of his nail catches on the edge of something on Draco's scalp. Startled, he looks down to find a rough pink patch near the whorl at Draco's crown.

He rubs it, and Draco doesn't wince. "Did you hit your head on something?"

"No," Draco replies, closing his book. "Why?"

"Nothing," Harry says cooly, but a thread of concern worms its way in. "There's just a mark."

Draco hums and reaches up to rub it. "Odd."

Ultimately, it ends up being a big deal for blessedly nothing. A biopsy, a few months of a particularly obnoxious cream, and £800 in not-quite-right hats later, the spot is gone.

One evening, the street lights outside make the clouds orange, and on the telly, Klinger is having his sanity questioned while Harry rubs his thumb over the small scar on Draco's scalp and says, for the dozenth time, "So glad we caught that early," shortly followed by, "Could've been a lot worse."

Draco just nods, like he does every time Harry is obviously thinking of all the horrible outcomes that didn't happen. And then it occurs to him that if it hadn't been for the Hogwarts lice epidemic, they wouldn't have caught it early. It would have been a lot worse.

There's no one person in particular he can thank for the long-ago happenstance. He never did find out who introduced head lice to the Hogwarts class of '98. He does know, however, that there are feelings regarding the incident which still need addressing.

Apologising to Granger would be embarrassing, in the best case, and put him in an early grave in several other cases. They're both Mugwumps now, but Granger was long-established and climbing the ranks before they gave Draco his father's empty seat.

Granger had been the only vote against him. After his induction, she'd shook his hand grudgingly, looking as if she wanted to challenge him to a rematch of his own election.

"I suppose," she'd said, "it's time to see if we can entrust a ferret with guarding the chicken coop."

It was a lacking analogy for someone so clever, and it made him pause to examine her. She looked as though she'd been up all night studying. But the only thing on the Wizengamot's docket that entire day was the vote over his seat, and the following giving and taking of the oaths.

He licked his lips and hazarded a guess. "I think you put more deliberation into your vote than anyone else here."

She shot him a watery smile. "You don't sound upset that I voted against you."

He took a moment to think. "I never trusted professors who only gave high marks. It didn't feel as if they were doing their job."

Appeased enough for a bit of swottiness, she changed tack. "I still don't think you should be allowed in the Wizengamot until we're done with the Statute overhaul. Everything you know about Muggles, you learned precisely the wrong way."

He'd bitten his tongue then, metaphorically, and bit the inside of his lower lip in reality. "You're right, Granger. I know Muggle relations like a felon knows the law. But that isn't nothing, is it?"

She'd given him a trite hum, and, over the last decade, Draco had decided the expression meant she'd been hoping for a fight and didn't get it. Nowadays, she saves that huffy hum for the golf course, on days when the weather is too perfect, and par comes too easily, and everyone stands back and lets her play through.

Draco sighs, his cheek on Harry's thigh. He presses his lips to Harry's jeans. Sometimes, evenings like this end with Draco asleep between Harry's knees, just like that first time. Other nights, they're punctuated with an idle, lazy blowjob that's mostly lips and leads to Harry coming about half the times, and yawning and suggesting Chinese for dinner the other half. Draco is happy either way.

But tonight, he's going to fall asleep against Harry's leg before anything else can happen.

A week later, he's on the golf course with Granger and two senior Mugwumps who've been delaying the vote on Squib inheritance rights reform for three sessions now. Draco is there because the 'Malfoy' in his last name appeals to one Mugwump, and the '-Potter" appeals to the other. It doesn't hurt that he can carry two golf bags.

Draco leans against a shade tree and watches Granger tee up, both in their conversation and with her ball. The two elder statesmen respectfully go quiet while she lines up to swing, then whips her driver like a mace.

Both men are silent as they watch the ball arc through the sky. She takes the opportunity to restart, restate, and redirect the conversation while the next man tees up.

Silently, while the three of them watch another shot, Draco pulls a shiny new ladies' putter from his bag and slides it into Granger's. He rustles the clubs to settle them evenly in her bag. She probably won't notice for quite a while. When she's looking for her usual putter, she won't even register the existence of other clubs.

Dutifully, he scoops up both their bags and follows them.

He didn't put a note on the putter, just a red ribbon bow on the grip, which is hidden inside the bag. She may or may not know Draco gave it to her. And if she does, she won't ask why, because they've both learned that wounds that are already healing don't do well if reopened.

A gust of wind catches the brim of his hat, and he fumbles a set of clubs while catching it. His own clubs slide out onto the ground, but it's better than chasing his hat.

As he's picking them up, someone in a golf cart honks their obnoxious little robot horn at him. He's shoving his clubs into his bag, and he glances up to find a black and chrome golf cart with some Danish logo on the hood, and it's headed straight down the centre of the path toward him.

There's only one arrogant prat who drives a cart like that. Or, more accurately, who gets driven in a cart like that. Finch-Fletchley. The Muggle-prince-turned-wizard-pauper-turned-smarmy-solicitor, who was famous for introducing the magical world to the concept of fraudulent class action lawsuits.

The driver honked again, a sound more suited to a child's toy than a motor vehicle, but Draco stepped to the side and let them pass. He set down Hermione's bag and raised an arm at the elbow for a perfect parade wave.

In passing, Justin flashed him a mouth full of veneers without making eye contact.

Quick as lightning, as the cart goes by, and Justin isn't looking, Draco reaches out and snatches a club. His instincts see a silver Snitch, and in a split-second, he holds one of Justin Finch-Fletchley's golf clubs in his hand.

His fingers unfurl to reveal a shiny new driver, engraved and lacquered in reds and oranges. A Honma driver. He flips it over and wraps his hand around the grip. Very nice. At minimum, a £15,000 club. Appalling.

After a short wait, Justin's cart goes round the curve. Draco sets the other bag down, then squares his shoulders, centring them up with the nearest water hazard. It's a small pond, about ten metres away.

Without a second thought, he hefts the driver onto his shoulder like a javelin, gets a three-step running start, and flings it into the water. It hits the surface with a wet slap, briefly sends the grip up as a flag, then sinks like a periscope.

Much better.

Draco scratches his head, readjusts his hat, and picks up his bags.

#peculiar prompts #drarry #tw lice

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heavens-bookshop · 2 years

Text

They don't quite make it to China in the end.

The Pacific Ocean, it turns out, is both quite large and quite a trek from the Caribbean. The Revenge tries to make it all the way down to Cape Horn, but Ed grows impatient by the time they reach Brazil, so they settle for somewhere outside Sao Luis.

The crew doesn't stay. Most are still hungry for a life at sea, or ready to move on to other ventures. Ed hands over control of his flotilla to Izzy, and Stede happily bestows the Revenge to Oluwande. It's not the last they see of any of them, of course. The Revenge comes through port every so often to stock up on supplies, bringing Madeira wine and spiced rum, a rotating cast of fresh faces and always new stories to share. Wee John makes a point of bringing Stede a crate of oranges the first time they visit, a long running joke that turns into the crew's traditional reunion gift.

It's a simple life they carve out for themselves here. They build a small house by the beach - Ed finds he can't stray too far from the water, and even heading into the nearby town feels claustrophobic after a while. He takes odd jobs where he can, chopping wood or putting up fences, sometimes even ferrying people along the coast in a small dinghy, while Stede helps local dignitaries translate documents into English. After a lifetime of violent death constantly at his heels, Ed finds the gentle pace is exactly what his soul needs.

Years pass and the pace becomes gentler still. Time catches up with his joints, seizes up his knee further. The salt and pepper of his hair becomes a little saltier. He notices it in Stede too, the lines in his face deeper, his hands not quite able to hold a pen like they once did. It's both a blessing and a curse, Ed realises - he simply never imagined he would live this long.

They get thirteen years together.

With the decades of smoking and drinking and festering gunshot wounds, Ed really thought he'd be the first to go. And then one afternoon, while they're on their way back from the market with fresh clams for dinner, Stede collapses to the ground clutching at his stomach. Ed gets him home and keeps a bedside vigil in some twisted backwards version of their first meeting all those years ago. He sits there, holding Stede's hand for a week, until Stede's grip falls slack for the final time.

Ed buries him on the cliff that overlooks their beach. He writes a letter to Mary in shaky handwriting, at the same desk where Stede taught him to read. The grief is a tidal wave, pounding into his lungs, burning with every breath, until the water pulls back and leaves nothing but a yawning cavern in his chest. Ed doesn't know how he can ever fill it.

He tries to lose himself in physical labour, in the mindless lift-drop-chop of cutting wood, but his body can't keep up with it anymore. His home makes him sick. Stede's ghost is everywhere - it's there in the empty space in their bed, the extra chair at the table, in the faces of all their friends and acquaintances in town.

When the Revenge next comes through port, Ed breaks the news to the few remaining original crew members. Roach and Oluwande take some oranges to his grave before they set sail - and Ed goes with them.

He doesn't stay on the ship for long. There are ghosts here too - the notch on the mast from a duel, the bookshelves no one's had the heart to get rid of, the lingering smell of marmalade in the crew's mess. The Revenge heads north, all the way up to Charlestown where Lucius has been working as a clerk at an inn, and it's here that Ed alights.

He gets his own room at the inn, in return for taking on a job as Lucius' assistant. It's work his old joints can manage, organizing ledgers and double checking numbers, but the smell of parchment and ink makes him miss Stede terribly.

He travels when he can, hopping onto merchant ships that take him up the coastline to Dover, Baltimore, New York, even as far as Boston, and god there are so many people. The cities sprawl in every direction, and with each passing year Ed finds them ever harder to navigate until finally his knee gives out completely.

Six years after leaving Sao Luis, Ed feels his body winding down. Days start blurring into one another, as do his memories. Sometimes he realises that he can't even place the faces of the people around him, and he panics. He finds himself increasingly in bed, unsure of the time or where he's supposed to be, but there's always a bowl of soup or a jug of water on the bedside table. Someone's looking after him, he can remember that much. He remembers that he's loved.

Ed starts awake one evening (or is it the early morning?) to a sharp pain in his chest. There's a light above him, and a voice. He had thought it was Lucius holding a lantern, except now he's not so sure. It's become harder to breathe, harder to see, and he is so very very tired.

The rest of the world fades, but the light remains, and Ed can see now that of course it's not a lantern - it's a lighthouse. The voice becomes clearer and then there's Stede, golden hair and dashing smile, holding out his hand.

"One more adventure, love?" he says, and Ed grabs his arm with both hands.

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #my fics #edward x stede #im goin thru it lads #we write sad pirate ficlets to cope

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