and lee stede + 💘 for flavour (on condition that everything’s consensual! 👼)
i found this buried in my documents and so i figured i should post it dskjdf
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Pleading Pirate
Fandom: Our Flag Means Death
Ship(s): Gentlebeard
Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Stede/Ler!Ed
Word Count: 540 words
Summary: His fingers descended down Stede’s torso, and based on Stede’s yelp, that might’ve been a place Ed wanted to stay awhile — if it hadn’t been for the knee that rammed into his back right after.
[ao3 link]
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“Oh— Ed, come now!”
Ed snickered, though he doubted Stede could hear it over his own high-pitched laughter. He could barely even hear Stede’s feet pounding against the wood behind him over the cackling.
“I dunno, mate, I think I’m onto something here.” He grinned as Stede shrieked. “Be a shame to stop now.”
His fingers descended down Stede’s torso then, delivering nibbling little pinches from his ribs down to his hips between Ed’s own thighs. Based on Stede’s yelp, that might’ve been a place Ed wanted to stay awhile — if it hadn’t been for the knee that rammed into his back right after. Ed grunted as he got knocked forward a bit, pausing his tickling for a moment as he caught himself with his hands. He shot a disgruntled look at the offending limb before turning back towards Stede’s face.
His cheeks were red and splotchy, his eyes bright from laughter and wide from trepidation. His expression seemed to be caught somewhere between excitement and fear, and his wobbly smile still tugged at his lips. Ed paused a moment, pursed his lips, and made a decision.
“Seems like your legs were getting pretty lonely, back there,” he growled, his voice slow and dangerous. “Would be a shame to leave them out of all the fun, don’t you think?”
Stede sucked in a quick breath. “Oh dear— Ed, you couldn’t, I don’t—“
Ed hummed low in his throat, slowly reaching behind himself to find a grasp on Stede’s legs. Stede gasped once more, his legs tensing and squirming under Ed’s touch.
“You know what I need to hear, mate.”
Instead of taking the out and opting for mercy, Stede closed his eyes for a moment, seeming to steel himself. “Well, it would hardly be proper to surrender. I’m the Gentleman Pirate, after all, and I— ah!”
With a shark-like grin, Ed gently dug his fingers into the muscle of Stede’s thighs, effectively cutting him off with a shrill squeal. He stilled his fingers and watched Stede giggle and shake, babbling meaningless concessions to try and take it all back. He still did not call out the word Ed needed to hear to stop, however, and Ed decided that Stede had had plenty of chances to express his discomfort. In fact, based on the glimmer in his eyes, Ed would wager Stede was rather excited at the whole prospect.
He ought to do this right, then.
Ed rose from his position straddling Stede for just a moment — silencing his own brief anxieties with the look of disappointment that immediately crossed Stede’s face — and turned himself to face Stede’s legs before settling back down again.
“Oh no,” Stede whimpered, his legs shuffling at the sudden attention.
Ed cracked his knuckles. “Oh yes.”
He started with some precursory squeezes and massaging, searching for the places that would really break Stede, but based on the reactions he got, it seemed as though Stede’s whole legs were one big hot spot. He hadn’t even reached Stede’s knees before Stede was calling out barely-intelligible pleas with every breath he could manage. Once again, there was no hint of the safeword.
Ed chuckled deep in his throat. It was about time he tested the Gentleman Pirate’s endurance.
hello I would pay good money to see mr ed teach + 🙈
🙈 -‘Tickled Silly’ Laughter
Thoughtless
[ao3 link]
Word count: 279 words
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It was over, Ed was done for. He was gone. Here lies the Fearsome Captain Blackbeard, defeated by nothing more than a few wiggling fingers.
Though, in his defense, Stede’s fingers were the most killer, devious things Ed thought he had ever faced. They were deft and soft and picked him apart with alarming accuracy, and Ed didn’t know how to cope. If he had any brainpower left to save his dignity, he might’ve tried to fight Stede off, but as it was, he was too far gone to even pretend that he wanted to.
“The fearsome Blackbeard is ticklish after all, then, eh, Ed?” Stede asked, a hint of laughter in his own voice.
Ed had half a mind to tell him to shut up, but it wasn’t as though he would be able to get an intelligible word in edgewise. And even if he could, the sounds would be painted with flustered energy, practically dripping in it, and he had a reputation to keep, thank you very much.
Though Stede seemed to be doing a pretty good job of tearing that to shreds. And it’s not like it wasn’t exhausting to keep up, Ed got pretty sick of it most of the time, these days. And— oh shit, that was his stomach, that tickled so fucking bad.
“I must say, Ed, you’re doing quite a lot of introspection for someone who’s meant to be getting tickled to bits.”
This time Ed did call out a “Shut up!” though it was nearly lost in the bout of laughter it escaped with.
“Perhaps I just need to try harder. Do try to save your breath, dear. You’ll need it.”
Hey guys! I’m pretty desperate to write for OFMD but I’m at a loss of ideas. I would love to write lee!Ed, but y’all send me whatever ideas you may have for any characters!
this was done in EARLY NOVEMBER and i forgot to ever post it dsjkhdf i am so sorry
Tickled Silly, Tickled Stupid
word count: 367 words
[ao3]
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Frenchie supposed he deserved this. He’d goaded the lot of them into it, after all, dropping conspiracy after conspiracy, dipping into ludicrous things he himself didn’t even believe, just to get a rise out of those on deck. He latched onto twitches of eyebrows, tightening of lips, eyerolls, and more.
And now this was where he lay.
Though it was quite a joy-filled grave that Frenchie had dug, if he did say so himself. After all, it was exactly what he was aiming for. Pinned down between crew member after crew member, their fingers searching out all his weak points. Mirthful tears were filling his eyes, laughter draining his lungs, and Frenchie was certain that he could get addicted to this feeling.
Wee John sat behind him and held up his arms with one hand, the big teddy bear, the other jumping mercilessly between his underarms in a way that made him howl. Lucius and Pete were tag-teaming the rest of his torso, seeking out the spots that made him jolt and squirm the most and laughing affectionately at his startled shouts.
Fang and Oluwande had each taken a leg for their own, their drastically contrasting styles leaving him reeling. Fang, who most often tickled Lucius, went after the meatiest parts, squeezing and kneading deep into the muscles in ways that drove Frenchie mad. Oluwande on the other hand could be found with his fingers on Jim more often than not (well, not that any of them had actually found them like that, they didn’t have death wishes, but their cabin wasn’t exactly soundproof), and it reflected in his skittering, spidering, wiggly-fingers style that would’ve sent Frenchie into the highest of pitches if there weren’t so many other sensations warring for control of his vocal cords.
And Jim, ruthless, devious Jim, took up Frenchie’s feet. They sat on his ankles, trapped his toes in one hand, and absolutely destroyed him with the other. The playful torment shattered any coherent thought Frenchie had left between the rest of his comeuppance.
So yes, perhaps Frenchie deserved this, but he wasn’t exactly going to complain about being tickled stupid. The only unfortunate thing was that it eventually had to end.
[catching up on old prompts – do NOT send in any new ones]
🐷 -Snort
[ao3 link]
Word Count: 381 words
Make You Smile
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Jim collapsed onto the bed with a heavy sigh, scooting back against the wall and leaning against it, their legs dangling lazily over the edge of the bed. Oluwande watched as they ducked their head, letting their hat tilt down and better hide their face away from the light. He bit his lip.
Really, it was just too good of an opportunity.
He sat down next to Jim a little more carefully, leaning against the wall himself. He waited a minute or two, as long as he could stand it to try and make sure Jim wouldn’t suspect it, before he struck.
Olu’s hand shot out, aiming directly for the pressure points on either side of Jim’s kneecap, the ones that drove them crazy. He got one squeeze in, earning himself a delicious choked-off gasp, before the leg was ripped away and Oluwande’s wrist was caught in a vice grip. He twisted it a little, testing the hold. There was no way he was getting out of that himself.
Shit.
“Olu.”
Oluwande risked a glance toward their face. They had tilted their head up just enough for their dark eyes to show beneath the brim of their hat. There was a dangerous glint to them, and if Oluwande hadn’t been nervous before, he certainly was now.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?”
“Making you smile?” He said weakly.
Jim hummed, low and deep. Then, before Oluwande could even blink, he found himself with a lapful of Jim, their calculating eyes scanning over his upper body. He was so occupied with their predatory gaze that he forgot to watch their hands, flinching when he felt them start slowly crawling up his arms.
“Maybe,” Jim said, a smirk stretching across their lips, “it’s your turn to smile.”
And, well, Oluwande wasn’t complaining. That is, until Jim’s fingers reached their target, his ridiculously sensitive ears and neck, and started drawing giggles and snorts out of him in abundance.
“Jim!” He whined, trying time squirm away from their fingers without dislodging them from his lap.
“Olu,” Jim whined back, drawing it out to tease him. “That’s what you get!”
Oluwande figured he would be there for a long while yet. At least in the end, he’d still gotten what he wanted. Jim was smiling.
Olu has a bit of a problem. The problem is that Jim is a good fuckin’ kisser, which makes him do stupid things like not say anything when they tickle him horribly — accidentally or on purpose, he isn’t always sure — while they make out with him. This is one such occasion. The way they’re ravishing his lips, his neck, his collarbone with kisses is incredible, downright addicting. But they’re also grabbing his thigh with one of their hands for stability, maybe to keep him in place, and it tickles like a bitch.
He doesn’t actually mind it as a broad concept. The issue was that he can’t show it. Because if Jim notices, the make out session will likely detour into a tickle attack and Olu’s kinda digging the kissing right now. He can’t ask Jim to move their hand, or push it away, because they’ll know why as soon as he does. So he’s left with one option: endure.
Part of why that’s hard is, well, they’re kissing, and he can only smile so much before Jim figures out it’s not just him enjoying himself. But it’s fine, he can do it. After the startle of the first grab, he’s able to steel himself, try to block out the feeling and focus on their other hand grabbing his shirt and the expert thing they’re doing with their tongue — seriously, where did they learn to do that?
But then they loosen their grip and re-grab at just the right spot, and he can’t help the way his leg hitches up in defense. They stop kissing him to meet his eyes. There’s a short moment of concern, then they recognize his expression and smirk.
“I was tickling you, wasn’t I?”
Olu swallows nervously. “Well, kind of, but…” He looks down at their lips, hoping to get them back on track. “It doesn’t have to be—”
Their hands crook into claws and his sentence ends with him choking on the next word. “Oh, you know it does.” And he also knows now he’s screwed.
omg what if lee ed + 🙈 (or 🙊 or 🐷 or 🤐 or 💘 just ed being in some way or another embarrassingly human gosh pls)
[prompt list]
🙊 - Shriek (going with this one cuz I have another lee!ed ask for the 🙈 one!)
[ao3 link]
Word count: 327 words
Ruthless Pirate
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Ed really should’ve been expecting it, with the mischievous, playful look Stede had been wearing all night. Yet somehow, between the brandy and familiar conversation, it had slipped his mind to be on guard.
It was foolish on his part, really. Stede had been promising a swift and ruthless revenge befitting of a pirate captain ever since Ed had gotten him begging through laughter the other day with a few well-placed fingers. It had been days now, and many of the overcomplicated, overzealous plots had wound up with Stede in more of a bind (sometimes quite literally) rather than Ed.
But Ed was foolish, and maybe a bit tipsy from one too many glasses of that exquisite brandy, and he left himself exposed.
He was feeling a bit warm from the alcohol, trying to slip off his leather jacket and getting a bit clumsy in trying to do so. The damned thing was so hot and it stuck to him like a second skin, so while he was busy fumbling to try and get his arm unstuck from the one sleeve, Stede snuck up behind the couch and struck.
Ed arched his back in a poor semblance of defense as a loud, high-pitched sound escape from his throat. He and Stede both froze, and Ed could feel his face growing progressively warmer.
“Ed,” Stede said gently, a smile evident in his voice. “Did you just shriek?”
Ed huffed, trying to save face. “You wish, mate. Blackbeard doesn’t shriek. And he’s certainly not ticklish, so you can quit wasting your time.”
Stede hummed. “I think I’m required to disprove that, being a ruthless pirate and all. What say you, Ed?”
What a fucking gentleman, giving Ed an out like this. Goddammit. Stede was basically asking his permission to tickle him. Ruthless pirate, Ed’s ass.
“You can try your best, man. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Oh, don’t worry, Ed. I know exactly what I’m getting myself into.”
A/N: I promise I'm gonna work more on my long form stuff but for now you get this
Summary: Fill for this prompt by @august-anon <3
Words: 1k
It started with an “argument” about blanket stealing, or something. It didn’t really matter anymore how it started, because they both knew it wasn’t about that now. Now, they were just…
“Plehehease!” Olu gets out through laughter that he desperately tries to stifle. His legs kick in the tangle of blankets still valiantly covering their lower halves.
“Please what?” Jim counters smoothly.
“Stohop! We’re gonna wake the ohohothers!”
“I think you mean,” Jim says, finding that spot on his ribs that always gets good reactions from him and tickling oh so slowly, “you’re going to wake the others.”
Olu slaps a hand over his nose and mouth to muffle a snort.
“Though I never mind waking up to your laughter, do you?”
Olu reaches for them — they aren’t pinning him down or anything, it’s more just a fight against the reflex to defend himself — and spiders fingertips up the side of their neck.
They scrunch, as if they’re trying to crush his hand between their shoulder and jaw, but the way they’ve been propping themself up half-over him means this just throws them off balance and they flop onto the sheets with a bitten off squeal.
“I prefer yours,” he says, still giggly but not at risk of an outburst that’ll be audible to anyone in the adjacent rooms.
“You— you bitch!”
“You started it!”
“And I’m gonna f-fihihihinish it!”
But he can now bring his other hand into play, and when he latches onto their hip they shriek, squirming and scrabbling for his hand.
“Careful, Jim,” he teases, pressing a haphazard kiss to their cheek as they shake their head in protest. “You’re getting a little loud there.”
“Becahahuse you’re-“ They break off into helpless giggles.
“Tickling you? Because you’re ticklish?”
He watches gleefully as their face goes red, knowing it isn’t entirely because of all the laughing. They bite their lip, trying to hold it in, and their futile attempts are almost too cute for him to handle, what with the scrunch of their nose and tears in their eyes — more from just waking than being tickled silly —, their reflexive jerking that isn’t getting them anywhere. Jim could get away, even tired there was no question about that. But they’re not. They’re letting him do this, letting him soak in their reactions like the warmth of a sunrise. He loves when they do.
But he also loves the back and forth, the fight, even losing, he can admit to himself. So he isn’t entirely devastated when, after a bit of being allowed to tickle them unhindered, he finds himself choking on a laugh of his own when they claw into his side.
“Hey!”
“Take that, pendejo!”
It’s not even that he’s that sensitive there, but it’s early, and everything feels so soft and silly, and outside of volume he doesn’t have a reason to fight his own reactions, so he just gives into it. He has to be quiet, but he can channel that energy into squirming instead, so that’s what he does.
“Wow, Olu. You are super ticklish.”
“Fuck off!”
“Do you admit that I win?”
“No!” He doesn’t know what he’s even arguing that they haven’t won. He just knows that they haven’t, because that means they’ve tickled him past what he can handle, and not only is that untrue, he intends to turn it right back around the first chance he gets and hopefully win whatever they’re fighting over. Beating them at things always leaves him feeling accomplished, especially when it ends with them breathless, giddy, and demanding apology cuddles. If he’s lucky, maybe they’ll both end up tired enough from all the tousling and laughing that they’ll doze off together again.
Olu uses a combination of his mass and motivation to get Jim’s hands off of him and pin them face down. He doesn’t do anything for a moment, wanting to let them stew.
They crane their neck around to look up at him, and he relishes the nervous-excited expression still alight with competitiveness. “Don’t you dare.” Their voice wavers deliciously too, and there’s no way he isn’t gonna dare.
He starts to dance his fingers over their shoulder blades, and even though they’re wearing a shirt it sends them wiggling wildly beneath him and face planting into the askew pillow that’s managed to stay near where it’s supposed to.
“DohoHO’NT!” they squeal.
“Why? This spot getcha good?”
“Nohoho!”
“Then why are you laughing so much?”
They only giggle more frantically. Teasing them is the most fun part for him, especially with how it amps up their ticklish responses. And flustering someone so tough with something so silly and affectionate… Jim’s lucky he has the self control he does, otherwise they’d be subjected to this all the time. Not that he thinks they’d really mind.
“This is what you get for provoking me,” Olu says.
“Dihihid not!
He scoffs. “Did too.”
“You’re a dihihick!”
“Am I? Do you want me to stop?” He slips his hands under their shirt and starts drawing big looping patterns all over their back, paying special attention to the spots that really get them squirming: small of the back, ribs, shoulder blades, even venturing up to their neck.
They spasm and their hands fly backwards in attempt to grab and stop his, but not only are they at a terrible angle to do so, they couldn’t do anything even at a better one thanks to the shirt barrier. What was once a defense has become a weakness, and a burst of satisfaction shoots through Olu as they whine in complaint through their laughter.
“Awww don’t give me that, you love this.”
They land an awkward punch to his thigh, and he just laughs at the lack of true denial. He could do this for ages — and he intends to.
