#THAT IS SUCH A FREAKY THING TO SAY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

areyoudoingthis · 6 months

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Stede draws the curtains shut, enclosing them in the dark, intimate space of the bed nook, anticipation running recklessly through his veins. He turns to Ed, looking up at him expectantly on the bed, the cascade of his hair loose around his shoulders and his eyes huge and vulnerable, bathed in the golden light of the fireworks the crew is setting off on deck. He could get lost in those eyes forever, swim into their depths and never come back up for air again. - Picks up right after Stede closes the bed curtains. Tender, horny sex ensues.

He draws the curtains shut, enclosing them in the dark, intimate space of the bed nook, anticipation running recklessly through his veins. He turns to Ed, looking up at him expectantly on the bed, the cascade of his hair loose around his shoulders and his eyes huge and vulnerable, bathed in the golden light of the fireworks the crew is setting off on deck. He could get lost in those eyes forever, swim into their depths and never come back up for air again.

Stede has laid awake on this same bed on countless sleepless nights, dreaming of this exact moment. Vague shapeless dreams at first, just him and Ed together in some undefined capacity. Far more real fantasies lately, since he cut off the ties that bound him to land and gentry and shed the man whose role he was suffocating having to perform.

He feels electrified, everything that happened tonight pressing against the inside of his skull with the force of a ram. The desperation of watching Ed get tortured, the satisfaction of being able to protect his crew and the man he loves, taking the irrevocable step to push Low off the plank after hearing him claim that Ed only views him as a pet and call Ed low born scum. He feels his blood boil again at the memory.

He doesn't regret doing it, is the thing. All his life the one thing he's craved is a place to belong, somewhere he's welcome, and now that he's found it, now that he has a family he can actually protect, people who depend on him, he will be fierce in ensuring the destruction of anyone that harms them.

But it's still making him feel dizzy, still brings the taste of vile to his mouth and the paralyzing memory to his mind of being called lily livered while his face was covered in blood, and feeling the word soft slice sharp like a knife against his skin.

He needs to kiss Ed, needs to press their lips back together until he can't breathe, until his head is spinning for entirely more pleasant reasons.

So he follows the instinct, plants a knee on the bed next to Ed's thigh and buries a hand in his hair, tilts his head up to kiss him and holds him tight with the other one around the back of his neck. Ed kisses back unrestrained, like maybe he wants this just as much as Stede does - and what a wonderful surprise that has been tonight. He wants to bottle up the lightening coursing through his veins and keep it around forever, to pour on his lips when he's feeling insecure about his place in the world and in this man's heart.

He breaks away from Ed's lips to trail wet, slow kisses along his neck, his shoulder, slides down the collar of his shirt out of the way until he can't reach any more skin and he has to separate from him to remove it altogether. Ed's arms go easily where Stede guides them, drape languidly around his neck to pull him close once they're free. Stede feels his heart climb into his throat, the way he did earlier when Ed nodded and drew him close into his body.

He pushes them down onto the bed, and Ed leans back without loosening his arms from around his neck, keeps kissing him the entire time. The feeling of Ed's tongue in his mouth is like a live ember burning inside him; he never wants to stop drinking him in, pulling his breath into his own lungs. He moans when he presses down more heavily onto Ed and feels the hardness in his pants firm against his thigh. This is the moment he's been alive for his whole life, why he kept waking up every morning of the miserable decades he spent stuck in a life he never wanted and not knowing Ed.

He rolls his hips against him out of instinct, and the friction of Ed's leather clad body against his cock has sparks licking like flames over his skin. He feels invincible right now, like he could take on a whole army of Ned Lows and defeat them single-handedly.

Ed is rocking against him, too, seeking the same release Stede craves. His open need makes Stede feel bold, like he could do anything, so he drags his lips down Ed's chest to his stomach, sucks open mouthed kisses against silken skin, traces the dark ink that decorates Ed's body with his tongue. He accidentally brushes against the burn mark on Ed's chest and Ed whimpers.

"Shit, sorry," he hurries to apologize.

"Not a bad feeling, mate," Ed says, a little breathless. Stede's eyes open wide, but he remembers Ed asking to be stabbed a million weeks ago, when he was still a different man that couldn't understand what was being asked of him and thought they were just playing pirates, and the way he moaned with Stede's sword stuck in his side. He brushes his lips tenderly around the wound, licks softly over it, and Ed writhes underneath him.

Stede prides himself on a rich imagination, but in his wildest fantasies he could never have pictured Ed like this, limbs loose and relaxed, lips red and kiss bitten, breath ragged, looking at him from underneath his eyelashes like there is nowhere else he'd rather be in the world.

Satisfied that he's given him what he wanted, he resumes his exploration of Ed's skin, slides his tongue down his sternum, flicks it over a nipple and is rewarded with a gasp and Ed's hand tangling in his hair, pushing him down with the barest amount of pressure. He gets the message and does it again, and then he sucks it into his mouth, and Ed's hand tightens further around his fistful of Stede's hair. The sting in his scalp feels so fucking good that he drags the nipple between his teeth to get Ed to do it again.

"Stede," Ed moans, not like he's asking for anything, more like he just wants to hold Stede's name on his lips for a while. Stede feels like he might do something embarrassing like cry at the sound, so he distracts himself by giving the same treatment to Ed's other nipple, and Ed keeps squirming against the bed, rolling his hips up fiercely to meet Stede's.

He feels like this is more than he ever wanted and nowhere near enough, like he's feasting and starving at once. He goes back to mapping Ed's tattoos with his lips, follows the lovely trail of silvery black hair down his stomach to the waistline of his pants, keeps going as far as he can.

"Can I take these off?" he asks, when he can't push the unyielding leather any further.

"Yeah," Ed concedes, like a gift.

His fingers tremble slightly as he undoes the buttons. It takes him longer than it should to get them open, but it's not like they have anywhere else to be. The crew are still partying above deck, he can hear singing and what he assumes is more dancing now that the roar of the fireworks has ceased. He feels sorry he didn't get to dance with Ed before they were interrupted, but he supposes this could count as dancing, too. A dance just for the two of them, with steps they decide and to whatever rhythm they choose.

Finally, he manages to get Ed's buttons open, and he hesitates for a second before he reminds himself that Ed offered, he nodded and kissed Stede back, pulled him into his body like he meant to keep him.

He hooks his hands on the waistband and pulls, and then Ed's cock is free before him, long and dark and already full, all for him.

"Can I taste you?" he chases another impulse. He's never done this before, knows the act exists from literature and living on a pirate ship with a crew that enjoys having sex in every random corner they can find. But the need to have Ed in his mouth is overwhelming, short circuits his brain and keeps him suspended in midair until Ed replies.

"You can do whatever you want, Stede."

Oh, how he loves him. The whole firmament has lodged itself inside Stede's chest, burning bright and incandescent.

He removes Ed's trousers all the way, discards them with a heavy thud of leather and metal on the floor, and kneels between his legs on the bed. He keeps eye contact with Ed the whole time as he sinks down and kisses his soft thighs, first one, then the other, sucks red and purple blooms into his skin. Ed groans and thrashes his head against the pillow.

His legs are also dotted with tattoos, and Stede makes plans to spend an entire day memorizing every drawing on Ed's skin sometime, in bright sunlight so he can admire them properly. He runs a hand from Ed's ankle to his thigh, loving the drag of coarse hair against the pads of his fingers. Ed watches him a little transfixed, like maybe he's worried that Stede will disappear if he looks away. Stede needs to reassure him that he's not going anywhere, that this is where he wants to be for the rest of his life.

He presses his nose into Ed's pubic hair, inhales him deeply and feels his head swim with the reality of what they're doing, of the man in the bed beneath him, the cock pressing against his cheek. Ed is so very solid here next to him - they're having sex for the first time, his first time with a man, with someone he truly desires and who desires him back. His chest expands and floods with starlight.

He rubs his cheek against the soft skin of Ed's thigh, savoring the moment, fists the fingers of his right hand around Ed's shaft and strokes it delicately, still a little awed that he gets to do this. He guides Ed's cock towards his mouth and finally, finally, wraps his lips around it. Ed bucks against the mattress and Stede chokes a little, more out of surprise than anything else.

"Sorry, sorry," Ed apologizes. "Didn't expect it'd feel like that, mate, sorry."

Now what on earth does he mean by that.

"Did I do something wrong?"

The look Ed gives him can only be described as fond, bottomlessly so.

"No, 's just intense, 's all."

"Oh."

"Oh," Ed agrees.

Well, then. He can certainly understand the sentiment. His own dick is straining uncomfortably against his pants, which he still hasn't taken off. Leather isn't the most comfortable fabric, he's beginning to realize. He's incredibly turned on, too, is the point, and every one of his senses feels heightened to an almost overwhelming degree.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Yeah, yeah, you can."

"Okay." He feels like giggling, like his lungs are full of helium instead of oxygen.

He leans back over Ed's cock and sucks it between his lips, takes the head into his mouth and lets it sit on his tongue for a second, getting used to the stretch and the taste and the weight of it.

He decides that having a cock in his mouth is profoundly satisfying, after all. In all his late night fantasies he never dreamed it could be like this, the rush of bringing Ed pleasure, of using the soft parts of himself to make the man he loves feel good. He's been hard since he pushed Ed into the wall and poured all his wild need into his mouth, and he feels himself grow impossibly harder at this realization. Tonight is a night of epiphanies, it seems.

Having determined that he likes this rather a lot, actually, he starts bobbing his head up and down on Ed's cock, testing how deep he can take him, listening to his groans and gasps of pleasure for clues about what works best, what makes him whimper and hitch his hips in tiny movements, trying to keep himself from bucking into Stede's mouth again.

He hopes his eagerness is making up for his lack of experience as he drools messily all over Ed's shaft and down his own chin. The way Ed moans loudly when he slides his tongue from root to tip and licks at the head makes the butterflies in his chest hope that it is. He builds a steady rhythm, breathes through his nose and takes him in as deep as he can, endlessly hungry for him. He loses himself in the act for minutes, hours, maybe, until Ed's voice brings him back to himself.

"Stede, fuck," Ed pants. "If you were planning on this going anywhere else tonight, ya're gonna have to stop that. Not that young anymore, mate. Two in a row might be too much to ask for."

His brain scrambles to a stop, and he sits unmoving with Ed's cock in his mouth for a moment. He hasn't been thinking more than two seconds ahead all night, running on instinct and adrenaline and hunger. But if he's honest with himself, he knows where he's wanted to take this since he grabbed Ed by the lapels of his jacket and Ed kissed back desperately.

He pulls off Ed's cock and stares at him, chest heaving, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings inside it.

"Can I fuck you?"

Hasn't this entire night been about asking for what he wants, heeding the hunger that's been gnawing at his insides his whole life, after all? Might as well go for broke.

"Already told ya, you can do anything you want." Stede's owned land and rich fabrics and books and shiny trinkets in the thousands, but nothing has ever compared to Ed offering himself to him like this, trusting and hopeful.

He takes a minute to breathe deeply and calm his mind before he stands up from the bed and removes his trousers. They've undressed in front of each other before, but that was chaste and they'd both turned around while the other got dressed. Stede was still half dead and feverish from a wound to the stomach that day.

This time it's intentional, and a prelude to something more, something he's dreamed about for months, for his entire life, perhaps. Ed has his head turned on the pillow and is watching him hungrily, cheeks rosy, skin shining with sweat, legs still spread out for Stede. The reality is infinitely better than any fantasy he's ever had.

He returns to the bed, kneels between Ed's thighs once more. This is the only home he needs now; he's glad he left every tie he ever had behind so he can nest himself here and stay for good. He doesn't know where to begin, loses his train of thought for a few seconds. Ed gazes at him patently, grants him time to adjust.

"Do you have any oil?" he gifts him a lifeline, as if he hasn't given Stede enough tonight already.

"I- yes." Why is this the thing that's making him blush - he had Ed's dick in his mouth a few minutes ago. He shakes himself and leans over Ed to reach around between the mattress and the window, fishes out the flask that he's kept there for a couple of days. The reason why it's there makes his brain burn even brighter. He has wanted this, and now it's happening.

Ed takes the bottle from him, sets it down on the sheets and holds his fingers gently in his hands to pull the rings off of them one by one, unhurriedly. They clatter against the windowsill when he sets them down, and the sound gets burned in Stede's brain with the weight of an anchor holding him safely in place. Once he's done divesting him of his rings, Ed picks the oil back up and holds Stede's hand in his, pulls off the stopper and pours some of the liquid on the pads of his fingers, where it sits like an offering at an altar.

Stede swallows the lump in his throat, brushes the hair off Ed's face, caresses his temple, his cheekbone, his jaw, runs his thumb over his bottom lip, tenderness welling up inside him and flooding through his skin. Ed takes advantage of his stillness to suck Stede's finger into his mouth, and Stede almost dies then and there. Ed's tongue laves around his finger, and Stede moans brokenly and kisses him, almost forgets that his hand is covered in oil and makes a mess of Ed's skin.

He gazes with naked adoration at Ed as he rubs the oil between his index and middle fingers, coating them thoroughly in it, then braces himself with one arm next to Ed's head, infinitely sorry to have to pull his finger out of his mouth.

He reaches between Ed's legs with his other hand, strokes softly down his balls and his perineum until he reaches his entrance. The next step sends his heart into disarray. He rubs a finger in slow circles against Ed's hole until Ed is whimpering and shaking again, and then he adds a little more pressure to his movements and he's sinking inside him, heat enveloping his finger and his mind. It's tight, and impossibly warm, and doing this feels like nothing's ever felt in Stede's entire life. No rush has ever compared to this, not piracy nor faking his death to chase his freedom.

He moves his finger tentatively in and out, and the way Ed moans his name knocks the breath out of his lungs and has pride crashing inside him like waves in the surf. He does it again, builds a slow, unhurried rhythm. Ed's pants and praises fill the air around them, in this otherwise quiet and secluded spot where only the two of them exist. He adds a second finger when he feels the first one start to glide easily inside him, and Ed's body welcomes it eagerly.

He's enchanted by the sight of Ed in this moment. He looks so lovely and relaxed, Stede's never seen anything more beautiful - no painting or sunset or starry sky could compare. His skin is flushed, his chest rises up and down like butterfly's wings, his skin shines, his eyes are scrunched in pleasure and his hair is an untamed mess around him from the way he keeps tossing his head against the pillow. He wants to press the image of Ed's shameless hunger between the pages of a book and preserve it forever.

He mutters nonsensical praises at him, driving his fingers into him relentlessly, loving the pressure and the feverish warmth of his hole around his fingers. He's high on the way Ed reacts as he strokes inside him, the sounds that pour ceaselessly from his lips, the way his body can't stop shaking uncontrollably, like he wants to climb out of his own skin from how good it feels. He could to this for the rest of his life and never tire of it. His cock his leaking against his stomach, balls tight with need, but none of it matters more than touching Ed like this.

"Stede," Ed whines.

"Yes?"

"Try curling your fingers." The words spark inside Stede's mind like fireworks.

He crooks his fingers experimentally inside Ed as he asked, and Ed's hips shoot of the bed as his hands fist on the sheets, pleas for more pouring from his lips and washing over Stede like summer sunlight. He will gladly spend the rest of his life giving him anything he wants. He has to kiss him, take those sounds into his mouth and drink them in. He leans down, licks his tongue against Ed's lips, and Ed's mouth opens up for him like the rest of his body is opening around Stede's fingers.

He pours all his love into Ed's mouth, breathes hotly against him as their tongues slide wetly together.

"More, please, need you," the words drop from Ed's lips like fireflies in the dark.

Everything, anything. A third finger joins the first two as they slide in and out of Ed's hole, press against the spot that makes him scream. Ed's legs come up to wrap around his waist, holding him tight against his body like he's been doing all night. Stede feels tethered to him; he's never had a place where he belonged, but he belongs with Ed like this, joined from head to toe, wrapped around each other like two people who are meant to be together.

He digs his knuckles deep inside him, longing to get even closer. Ed writhes desperately between the mattress and his body, all fire and hunger, slides his arms around Stede's shoulders and holds on. Flames skid down Stede's skin, and he thrusts his fingers faster, overcome by a need that obliterates any tentativeness he felt. Time stretches infinite between them, eons pass as he gets Ed's body ready for him.

"Stede, fuck me, please. I'm ready," Ed begs, ravenous.

Heat blooms in Stede's chest, sparks down his spine and shoots straight to his cock at the way Ed's voice breaks asking for him.

He separates from Ed only long enough to pour more oil on his fingers, mindful of this body he loves and everything they went through earlier. The pleasure when he fists a hand around his cock to get it slick makes him shiver. He wants to be inside Ed so urgently, needs to feel him under him and around him and in every crevice of his being.

He positions himself and takes a deep steadying breath. Their eyes are locked on each other's again, unable to look away. He grips his cock and guides it towards Ed's hole, presses in slowly. The moment he breeches him Stede feels like he dies and is born again a thousand times, the man he was and the man he is and the man he will become all infinitely in love with Ed, forever.

He pushes in inch by inch, needing to take it slow and feeling like Ed does, too, from the way he's looking at him with hooded eyes, neck taught and fingers clenching on the soft fabric of the sheets beneath them.

He bends to lick a stripe up his neck, tempted by the way it's calling to him. Ed takes advantage of the position to cling to him, legs going around his hips again and skin sticking together with sweat.

When he's finally fully seated inside Ed's body, he pauses and gazes at him, expectant. The pressure is exquisite, like being wrapped in warm flames that can't hurt him. Ed swallows visibly, then nods his head again, inviting Stede to move inside him like he invited him into his mouth at the beginning of the night.

Stede feels split wide open, affection and passion flowing through him and pouring out his of every pore into Ed's body. The "I love yous" gather in his throat and threaten to choke him, but he holds them back because Ed said he wasn't ready to hear them and Stede wouldn't betray his trust like that. He tries to say it with his body instead, peppers tender kisses all over his skin, presses his forehead against his heart and hopes he understands that he's making love to him with everything but his words.

Ed's heels dig against the meat of his ass, his cock slides damp against his stomach as their bodies rock together like a ship in the open ocean. There's a thunderstorm breaking inside Stede, loud and devastating, and he doesn't know what will be left standing in its wake. Moving inside Ed is like lightning and fire and starlight, like every force of nature has gathered here between their flesh. He rocks his hips in slow, deep thrusts, trying to memorize the exact way Ed's body clenches around his cock.

Ed mutters breathless encouragements as he thrusts up to meet him, the push and pull of their bodies ferocious like the sea at high tide. Stede's enveloped in heat, Ed's beautiful body and lovely skin and gorgeous hair and the sweetest brown eyes he's ever seen all that exists for him. He wants to stay like this forever, buried inside him and plastered to him, pleasure coursing back and forth between them like life giving breath.

He brushes the hair off Ed's damp forehead and goes back in for his mouth. Ed bites his lower lip and Stede gasps, breath ragged and head spinning; he feels raw and torn apart. He reaches down and clasps Ed's fingers between his, rests their joined hands on the pillow next to Ed's head, anchoring them together to survive the storm. There are tears welling in his eyes again, and Ed kisses them tenderly, buries his fingers in Stede's hair and claims his lips in a deep kiss.

Pleasures builds deep inside him as his cock drags hotly inside ed, threatening to pull him under. He picks up the rhythm, drives into him again and again as they hold onto each other and gasp heatedly into one another's mouths. He adjusts the angle of his hips on his next thrust and Ed's fingernails rake down his back, leaving a trail of burning embers in their wake.

"Stede," he moans brokenly, and electricity shoots along Stede's spine like he's been shocked. He does it again, frenzied to hear Ed's voice utter his name drenched in need like that over and over.

Ed cries out, grips Stede's arm tight enough to bruise, and Stede will wear the lovely shades of purple on his skin proudly, a mark of their passion to match the ones he left on Ed's thighs earlier.

"That's it, hold onto me. Let me give you what you need." He needs to take care of him so very desperately.

His hand leaves Ed's to wrap around his cock, dragging his fingers through the slick collected on his stomach to ease the slide, and Ed squirms and moans out loud, unraveled beneath him. Stede's starting to lose himself to the blaze sparking dangerously between them, swims in molten lava as Ed cries out his name and begs him to go faster.

He snaps his hips harder, matching his intensity bit by bit. The desire to give Ed pleasure supersedes everything else in Stede's mind. He needs to hear him scream in ecstasy and witness what he looks like in the throes of passion, with all his walls down and moaning Stede's name, begging him for more, harder, faster.

He moves at a feverish pace inside him, pulls out and slams back into him at the angle that makes Ed scream, as he fists Ed's cock tightly in his hand, trying all he things he likes on himself and hoping Ed enjoys them too.

It's blinding, all this feeling, like staring directly into the sun for too long. He feels a chasm open up inside him that may never be fully filled, an aching hunger for Ed that can never be satiated.

"I'm so close stede - fuuck - please, please!" Ed begs incoherently. And Stede cries out from how intense the pleasure of being connected with him like this is, moans praises into Ed's skin and chases both their releases as best as he can.

"It's okay, Ed, it's okay, I've got you. Wanna make you feel so good."

"You - ah, right there! - you already are."

Stede feels his orgasm building and building for an impossibly long time, high on the way they're joined and the hot flesh underneath him and having sex for the first time in his life in a way that is actually enjoyable.

Ed is groaning and whimpering brokenly, urging Stede on with his ankles around his ass and rocking back and forth between his dick in his hole and the tight fist on his cock. He's beyond beautiful lost in his pleasure, and Stede wants this to be the event that marks every one of his days. This is what he ran off to sea for, freedom and Ed and a love they can build together one day at a time.

Ed pulls him down towards his chest again, and Stede buries his face in his neck and bites down softly on tender skin, needing a release for the euphoria he's feeling.

Ed's hips shoot off the bed when his teeth close around his skin and he's coming in endless stripes between them, painting his and Stede's stomachs with his spend.

"Ed, oh my god, fuck I'm gonna-"

"Come on, Stede, come for me."

And it's the words and how ragged and stripped raw they sound that push him over the edge, into a bottomless ocean of Ed and pleasure and heat. He loses track of the next few minutes, as he empties himself inside Ed and collapses in a useless heap of leaden limbs on top of him.

Ed runs his hands softly through his hair, down his shoulders, his arms, offering grounding touches that Stede is grateful for while he struggles to remember where up and down are, wrung out and trying to get to shore.

He breathes heavily into Ed's chest until his lungs stop feeling like they're full of coals, kisses his heart tenderly and tries to pour all his love into him so he will know how important tonight has been for him.

"Was that good?" he asks shyly when he can finally look up at him again.

Ed chuckles.

"Mate, I just came my brains out, what do ya think? I think you finally finished fixing my lower back."

Stede laughs, drunk on love and Ed, and beams at him, pleased that he accomplished what he set out to do and made Ed feel good after a decidedly unpleasant evening.

"You're gonna need to move at some point, ya little blond barnacle. We're gonna get stuck together if we don't clean up," Ed says after a while of lying pressed together. That doesn't sound like the worst thing to him.

Stede feels like he should be offended at being compared to a barnacle, but he can't find it in himself to care. He would cling to Ed for the rest of his days if he was allowed, so it's not like it's a lie.

He reluctantly rolls over to lie next to him on the bed instead of on top of him, and winces a little at the stickiness. Sex was never this messy for him before, but he could grow to love this part, too, the evidence of how much they both enjoyed what happened between them.

He's floating high above his body, thinks he might easily get addicted to sex with Ed if he's allowed, if it always feels like this, like warmth and joy and shared passion.

Ed pushes off the bed and gets up, and Stede's brain panics a little. He wants to hold him all night, wake up tangled together on soft sheets in the morning.

Ed must notice something in his face because he leans down to plant a soft kiss on his lips and says "Just going to fetch something to clean up with, 'kay? Be right back."

Stede relaxes back into the comfortable bed, watches Ed walk away without a stitch of clothing on with undisguised lust, and then decides to try and get the sheets back into some kind of order before he returns so they can actually sleep here tonight.

He's lying languidly back on tidier sheets, body liquid and mind at ease, when Ed returns with a soft wet cloth and kneels down next to him to wipe off the come from his stomach, then tenderly swipes it over his spent cock. Stede shivers at the overstimulation. The gentle care Ed is showing him is almost as intoxicating as the sex was.

Once he's satisfied with his work, Ed throws the rag on the floor next to their discarded clothes and climbs back into bed with him. Stede opens his arms for him, invites him to be held like Ed's been inviting him into his body all night.

Ed goes easily, tucks his head under Stede's chin and throws a leg over his to pull him closer. Stede wraps his arms around him happily, settles him comfortably with his weight resting half on top of him. The world has never been a better place than it is tonight.

He combs his fingers slowly through Ed's hair, the urge to touch him no less consuming after what they shared. Ed hums contented little noises against his skin, goes boneless in his arms.

His eyelids start to droop and he wants to say all the things Ed isn't ready to hear. I love you. I'm yours. Stay with me forever.

They will have time. The world is theirs for the taking, they can go at whatever pace Ed needs.

"Sweet dreams, Ed," is what he settles for instead.

"Night, Stede," Ed whispers back.

He falls asleep listening to Ed's soft breaths in the quiet room.

#blackbonnet #gentlebeard #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #my fic #writing this took me out actually #i feel wrung out #please god let us have s3 so i can make them say i love you during sex and call each other pet names and do all the freaky things they want #i can't stand how this was everything i ever wanted and it also left me feeling starved for more

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sluckythewizard · 14 days

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BUT IM NOT A WRITER. something strange possessed me to write my first proper fanfic in maybe a decade. be niceys to me but also grill me so i can get stronger. this one is a stupidly self indulgent bit between Soda and Emizel, a day or so after emizel was sired. CW for gore descriptions, but thats about it i think. image below is a snippet of the start. the rest of the whole dang thing will be under the cut. ive never posted fanfic ever in my life. read my tags for secret behind da scenes commentary

"Oh shit… I think hes dead…" It was another night, another patrol, another fight, and another win, for Emizel and Soda.

Under moonlight, under street light, under interwoven wires above, the two stood here in a quiet and damp alleyway. The air was drenched with the smell of a previous rain, and the puddles of said storm remain huddled in corners and pot holes.

One splashed as soda found himself stepping forwards into one. The residual adrenaline of the fight had left his body shaking, his heart still pounding, his wounds still throbbing. They had still won; or more-so, Emizel had won. A particularly nasty blow to the side had Soda reduced to the side lines for most of the fight, left to watch as his newly vampiric comrade had absolutely eviscerated the competition.

Emizel had only been turned a day ago, but it was impossible not to notice how it had changed him. He already acted so goddamn confident, so on top of the world, and this newfound power, newfound speed and strength, only built upon his insane ego.

The Fangs that they encountered here on this night stood no fucking chance. Emizel was too quick, too strong, and he easily chased off the rivals. It was only now, as the final unfortunate opponent had turned to flee, a clean clock in the jaw sent the human tumbling to the ground with a dull thump, and it did not move afterward.

Soda shifts his shoe out of the puddle, the cold seeping into his sock being one of the few things keeping his mind in his body in the moment. Is the guy breathing?

A low laugh bleeds from Emizel as he stretches his arms, licking his sharpened teeth as he stares off in the direction the remaining Fangs went. Soda knew that look on his face, the look of a tiger pondering on its next kill, he knew well that Emizel wanted to chase them.

But the guy on the ground.. It was one punch to the face, and the wicked crack sound that came from it had planted a seeding dread within Sodas chest.

As he steps forward, around the puddle, the resulting sound made Emizels attention click back over to Soda, the snap of his gaze making Soda flinch.

The two lock eyes, and Soda weakly gestures to the limp body on the floor. "The uh.. I think.. Is that guy dead?" He finally asks, having a hard time keeping contact with Emizels intensely red eyes.

Emizel turns his attention to said body, tilting his head as he goes to kick at the thing, turning it over. "Man no way hes dead, I punched him once." He mutters.

"Well, yeah, but his head almost twisted all the way around when you did.." Soda steps up to stand beside Emizel, the two boys standing with their hands in their pockets, down at this unfortunate, limp body.

"Should we hide it?" Soda asks, glancing back over at Emizel, who had.. An odd look on his face. He was clearly pondering something, but Soda could only guess whatever was going on in that brilliant head of his. He knew and trusted that Emizel was smart. If anyone could figure out what to do about this, it would be him.

But the lack of an answer had anxiety chewing at the back of Sodas rib cage, and after a second, he speaks up again, compelled to fill what he perceived as a tense silence. "Like.. I dunno, I've never uh... killed a guy..." He shrugs, prompting Emizel to let out a big sigh.

"He's not dead man, just out fuckin cold." Emizel kneels down next to the body, putting an ear up to its chest, and pondering on that for a moment. An uncertainty twists his expression, as he decides to instead place a hand on the victims throat, checking for a pulse. A moment passes, and seemingly finding nothing, he pulls back.

"Uh... Okay, so he might be dead."

Something about the confirmation from Emizel made a shiver run up Sodas spine. That, or maybe it was just the breeze agitating the cold water in his shoe.

"Huh… Damn.." Was all that Soda could really get to leave his mouth. Which was hardly a splash compared to the torrent that was slowly churning in his head. They just killed a guy. Or, Emizel just killed a guy. And it was so easy. They had to hide the body now, right? That was the usual progression here? Getting caught for murder was way more extreme than getting caught for breaking mailboxes with soda cans. It was so, so disturbingly easy. It really was just one punch. It's not like the Fangs are weak by any means, so just one punch? And this guy is dead? Forever?

Or, perhaps by human means, their rivals were fairly tough. But Emizel was on a whole other level. No mortal could stand up to him now...

"Hey, are you okay?"

The question had pulled Soda back from his head, his gaze flicking back over to Emizel, who was looking up at him with those eerie, piercing red eyes. Soda felt another shiver.

"Uh, ieah man, I'm all good." Soda nods, swallowing down whatever anxiety was bubbling up in his throat.

But Emizel didn't seem satisfied by his answer, standing back up and staring down his human comrade. Soda couldn't meet his eyes, his gaze instead traveling downward, and pausing on Emizels red, cut-up shirt. There was something off about the color, the way it seemed darker in some spots, brighter in others.. Wait, wasn't Emizel wearing a white shirt before all this?

The vampire boy seems to pick up on Sodas expression, following his eyes down to his shirt. "Oh, yeah! While you were on the floor, the knife guy got me a little" He says, a stupidly simple smile on his face. Soda was about to let out a laugh at how unbothered his friend seemed by it, but it gets caught in his throat when Emizel goes to pull his shirt up.

The sound of the bloodied fabric peeling away from skin made Sodas own skin crawl, but that wasn't nearly as bad as the sight of the intense gash running from his collar bone, down to his stomach.

"Oh, fuck dude!" Soda gasps, but Emizel laughs it off. Even despite knowing Emizel well, Soda was still surprised by just how much Emizel could shrug off. "Shit, doesn't that hurt, dude?"

"Oh yeah this fucking hurts!" he says with a laugh, his smile big and toothy and proud as he presents this egregious wound. Swollen and angry, pulsing with a slow heartbeat, and still oozing with thick, dark blood.

The sight of the split flesh, and the glints of bone beneath the dark, dark red all tugged at Sodas gag reflex, and yet he couldn't pull his eyes away. So Emizel's just been walking and talking so normally this whole time with his chest just cleaved wide open? Soda felt just as impressed as he felt horrified.

It wasn't until Emizel reaches down to poke at the abhorrent wound that Soda snaps out of it. Watching his friend press his fingers into the bloodied flesh, and slowly pulling it apart, allowing more ichor to seep from the gash, it was too much to watch at this point.

Soda reaches up to put a hand on Emizels wrist, the vampire boy stopping, and looking up at his friend.

Soda found himself freezing again when he locks eyes with Emizel. He was going to say something now, right? "U-uhm.." Is all he really chokes out, giving Emizels wrist a gentle tug. "D-do you. Uh. I suppose a hospital Isn't a place you can go anymore..?"

Emizel just smirks at that, letting Soda pull his hand away from the wound. "Oh, yeah no, but it's fine. I mean, I don't think it's gonna kill me" He shrugs. It was so, so impressive just how unphased Emizel was by all this. Fuck he's actually so cool.

"Well yeah man but it's like, still a bleeding hole. Like you're soaked in blood dude, I'm pretty sure that even a vampire needs that stuff on like, the inside." Soda rubs the back of his head, still unnerved by the sight of it all. "Vampires have like, super healing, don't they?"

"Oh yeah like, regeneration powers. I know I heal faster sometimes but I dunno how to just, activate it on command.." Emizel hums, his eyes narrowing down at his own injury, as if trying to will it into mending. Soda looks away, unable to watch that vile gash ooze any longer.

"I dunno man, how do they do it in like, video games?" Soda tosses the question out, trying to click together some sort of solution in his own head.

"Uhhh.. Huh, video games.." Emizel repeats to himself, chewing on the thought while idly poking at the laceration; until an idea audibly flickers to life in his head. "Oh, I just gotta refill my blood meter. Or whatever."

"Oooh yeah, blood meter!" Soda perks up, "Of course, see this is why you're the brains, man" Soda smiles, glancing back over to his cool friend, but immediately needing to look away again when the sight of that egregious gash tugs bile back into his throat.

While Soda averts his eyes, Emizels eyes wander back over to the body, and that classic 'Emizel has a bad idea' smile creeps across his face.

"Well, if this guys dead, I'm sure he's not gonna need all that blood.." He grins, kneeling down next to the body again.

The word 'wait' had hardly gotten the chance to crawl from Sodas mouth, before Emizel lifts up the arm of the unfortunate body, pulling the sleeve back, and immediately sinking his teeth into the exposed wrist.

The sound and the sight of blood gushing around Emizels teeth made Soda cringe, his hand impulsively coming up to aide his own wrist. An empathetic phantom pain made his wrist ache, his imagination simulating the feeling of shark teeth cutting into skin, sinking deep into the flesh, and clacking against bone. That was a lot of blood, that was streaming down the arm of this fodder.

A low growl bleeds from Emizel as he adjusts his teeth, cutting into more flesh, opening the wound further, and allowing a pulsing torrent of red to stream down his chin, onto his coat. It was an annoying thing, to clean blood out of clothing. Most of the Demons deemed it easier to just let the stains remain. But the night that Emizels throat was torn open, and liters upon liters were granted freedom from his human form, the unbelievable mess had practically changed half the color of Emizels iconic coat.

That was the first time Soda had ever seen that much blood from one person. And well. This would probably be the second.

The sight was unnerving, but it was impossible to look away. The alley was quiet, save for the distant bustle of a distant city, which made the noisy squish and squelch of teeth gnawing on flesh all the more apparent and nauseating.

Emizel had become a monster for sure, and watching it feed on something was… thrilling, in a way. It reminded Soda of feeding a pet spider, or lizard. A mouse for a snake.

It's a heavy thing to witness, the end of a human life. The fear of death is a primal thing, and Soda was no different from any other living thing. He figured everyone else feared death just as much as he does. Well, maybe except for Emizel, of course.

It made sense. Emizel was such a cocky and noisy kind of guy, but hes always had the power to back it up. Even when he lost, or seemed at his lowest, Soda still saw this sort of fire in him, one that Soda admired.

Of course Emizel would be the one to become something like a vampire. Something that Soda had always figured was just a fantasy creature thing. He wondered; if vampires were real, what else was real? Werewolves? Zombies? Unicorns? Are there real demons? Like from hell? Is hell real? Is he going to hell?

The sudden ttteeeeaaaaarrrr of flesh rips soda from his wandering thoughts. Emizel was tugging his head away from the arm of his kill, his teeth clamped down into the chewed meat, and pulling it apart. Soda had seldom seen so much of the inside of a human arm, and the sight of spilling threads and squirming veins was hardly something he ever wanted to stomach again.

"Oh fuck, dude, hey-" Soda steps forward, raising a hand, but the way Emizel snaps his head back over to him, twisting to an unnatural degree, Soda cant help jolting back.

Reddened teeth glint menacingly in the low light, a threatening growl thundering from its clenched, dripping jaws. Emizels eyes were focused, yet wild, glowing with whatever light they could reflect.

Sodas eyes were wide, and his body was frozen in the thick, electric tension within the air. It was like staring down an angry dog.. Suddenly a light bulb in his head flickers to life. It was kind of like an angry dog, right? One hunched over a meal it didn't want to give up. Memories of old encounters and unfortunate dog bites resurface in Sodas head, and with that experience, and with those lessons learned, he gathers the courage to react.

He shuts his eyes, keeping them closed for a few seconds, as he slowly pulls back his arm, and slowly steps back. It was an eye contact thing, wasn't it? Eye contact makes dogs angry, right? That was how you dealt with an angry dog? As he pulls back, and takes in a breath for composure, he finally dares to peek at the angry vampire before him again.

Its snarling had died down, but its eyes were still trained intently on Soda. After a tense, and agonizingly, slow pause... It blinks back, lowering its head back down to its meal, but keeping its anxious stare on this potential threat.

A relieved sigh falls from soda as the tension finally melts. He didnt realize he was holding in so much of his breath. "O-okay, man.. It's yours, you uh.. Earned it.." Soda mutters, stepping back further, until he was standing in a sufficiently dry enough space to sit down in. Now that he wasn't standing, he was finally taking into mind just how much his hands were shaking.

It's odd. Soda couldn't really describe this feeling thrumming in his chest as something like fear.. Nausea? For sure. Disturbed and rattled? Oh absolutely. This was certainly a sight he would have a hard time scrubbing from his eyelids when he sleeps tonight. But he wasn't scared. The memory of the night that Emizel was sired still coated the inside of his mind like an unwashable film. Even in that moment, when the unnatural teeth from the unnatural maw of an unnatural thing hovered over his throat, he couldn't say with confidence that he was scared.

Emizel really is his best friend in the world. And he knows with his whole heart that Emizel feels the same. He knew and trusted that his best friend would never hurt him. Not too badly at least. He loves Emizel, and would give anything to support him.

Like a mouse to a snake.

This really is an incredible power that his comrade had come across, and Soda especially felt a sort of pride in his friend. He felt it was worth it to help him feed it.

The bile in his throat had made its point, and Soda agreed, that watching someone die, and get torn apart and drained might be too much for him. Despite how much he hated the Fangs, the end of any human life seemed like such a jarring thing. To have such an intense fear finally get confronted. Would he go to hell?

Maybe he couldn't just feed people to his friend. So an alternative could be donated blood, right? Soda wouldn't mind giving up something like blood. His body makes it for free, after all. Maybe some other Demons would agree to give up some blood too. But they shouldn't have to take on such a burden. Soda wouldn't mind being the only one. The only one. The only one.

His hand comes up to rub at his neck, as his imagination conjures up what it might feel like to have teeth sink into his flesh. He's been stabbed before, is that sort of what it would feel like? Would he have to get stitches? He didn't really want to get stitches, so maybe there could be a more effective way to get the blood out of him. And there was so much vital stuff in his neck too. There's' a vein that's safe to cut into somewhere, right? He would have to look that up later.

A STARTLING RINGING;

Splits the moment,

Prompting both Soda and Emizel to jolt in shock,

As the phone in Emizels pocket rings away.

Acting as if nothing abnormal had taken place, Emizel pulls out his phone, and answers it.

"Heyy, Johnny! Yeah we chased em off, I don't think those bastards will be infesting this street again anytime soon. Yeah, ieah we'll be heading back soon. Oh fuck yeah dude, save us some!"

Emizel covers the speaker of his Nokia, turning back to Soda with a big smile on his violently bloodied face. "They got some pizza waiting for us back home, dude!" he whispers out to him.

Soda does his best to crack a smile, and to suppress the look of unease that probably stained his face, as he stares at the literal murder scene that's been splattered about in front of him.

"Oh, yeah, hell yeah man.." He swallows down the bile again. "What kind of uh.. Soda did they get?"

Emizel ponders that, before turning back to the phone to ask Sodas question.

"Sprite and a big pack of that one strawberry mountain dew" Emizel tosses the answer back over to Soda, who gives a nod, and thumbs up.

Mountain dew is so neat, Soda really liked all the wacky flavors those guys come up with. The thought of going home and opening a can of soda was certainly a comfort. After witnessing all this blood and gore and viscera, Soda absolutely needed to get back home and get a nice cold glass of something bright red .

As Sodas mind wanders off to soda, Emizel wraps up the conversation on the phone, before hanging up, and standing up.

The movement had pulled Sodas mind back into the moment, enough for him to timidly voice a concern he's had since the start of this debacle.

"Uh, hey, so.. The body, should we… Uh.." He gestures vaguely to it, and Emizel grants it a nonchalant glance.

"Eh, I can toss it into a dumpster or something, I dunno. I'm sure its fine. I'll handle it."

The vampire boy goes to pick up the corpse, the wound in its mangled arm no longer even dripping with blood, the flesh pale from the absolute absence of red in its veins.

"Go ahead and meet me by that one mailbox, the one with the bullet hole in it." Emizel casually instructs, tossing the drained body over his shoulder. "I'll catch up."

"Uh, yeah, okay.." Soda musters up a nod, and the strength to rise back up to his feet, wincing as that bruise on his side makes itself loudly known again. He still felt anxious, but even despite it all, he knew he could trust Emizel to take care of things. He always does. "Just stay safe man, I'll see you there." Soda assures with a smile, and Emizel matches it, tossing him a wink. And then suddenly- -He's gone! If Soda had blinked he would've missed it, but he was fortunate enough to just barely catch the glimpse of Emizel darting off at an inhuman speed, probably looking for a place to dump the body. Right, he would take care of it. Emizel always makes sure his crew is taken care of. Well... Guess all that's left for Soda is for him to walk back to that meeting spot. He looks around the alley for a moment, taking in the sight of that enormous pool of blood in the middle of the concrete. Or whatever the floor of this alley is made from. He ponders on the present moment a little longer than he meant to, the shock of it all leaving him aimless for just a few, soothing moments of just, decompression. The night is quiet, vast, and cold, but the stresses of just the past 5 hours had left his body radiating with fiery aches and pains, so the chill of the occasional clawing breeze was welcomed. Except for when said breeze agitated the cold water still soaked into his sock. He should step in another puddle on his way back to even it out. The smell of rain still rested heavy in the air, heralding another storm on the horizon. There was that, and then, well, there was also the blood. The stench of it felt far too intense to just ignore it, the metallic miasma making itself maliciously unmistakable. Maybe the impending storm will wash this mess away... He looked forward to putting this unfortunate night behind him. With one last rattled, but deep breath, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and turns away, strolling back over to the mailbox that Emizel had described.

He couldn't wait to get home and drink some soda with his friends.

#NO TAGS ON THIS ONE BC WELL. IM SHY. IM TAKING A BIG LEAP JUST BY ALLOWING U TO REBLOG THIS. IF IT BREAKS CONTAINMENT THATS UR FAULT.#i unfortunately suffer from the disease of 'i hate everything i write the day after i write it' BUT IM GETTING TREATED #I WILL NOT BE HAUNTED BY THIS WEAKNESS FOREVER. AND HEY LOOK THIS IS THE FIRST ACTUAL FIC BIT IVE EVER FINISHED..#ITS SOMETHING TO BE PROUD OF!! AND BY JOBE I WILL BE PROUD EVEN IF I HATE IT.#i dont always need to be the one who likes my art bc i know Someone out there will always enjoy it.#and to that someone i say: omg thankyou i LOOOOVEE YOUUUUUU!!!!!#JUST DELETED A WHOLE RAMBLE I JUST HAD ABT NERVOUS DISCLAIMERS FOR MY ART BUT I DONT NEED EM!!#GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT GET CONFIDENT. ANYWAY. so emizel and soda huh #THEYRE SO CUTE TOGEEHTERRRR TEEHEHEHEHEEEE they are the homies that kiss eachother goodnight like CMON #but uhh so hey your bestest friend in da world just got turned into a freaky creature thing that eats ppl #ieah yknowthe guy that u care about alot that u had to watch get bled out by another freaky creature thing in an alleyway #yeaaah and you were super hurt and weak and stupid and u couldnt do jack nor shit to help him #what was i talking about again. RIGHT so hes even cooler now bc he cant die n hes super strong n his arms can be knives. sometimes.#but also he can eat people now. and sometimes he cant stop himself from eating people. and thats kinda scary. but in a cool way.#but also in a disturbing way. but also in an interesting way?but also in a freaky way.the feelings ARE MIXED!!!ATLEAST I THINK THEY WOULD B #okay again i havnt listened to the suckening ina bit. so its been a minute since i absorbed their personalities. i could be misreading or #misremembering or misconstruing or mischaracterizing or WHATEVER. i think the confusion carries its intended effect #LOSING MY TRAIN O THOUGHT. anyway i love soda n emizel i hope they get locked in a saw trap together or somethign. for enrichment.#TALOS GRANT ME THE STRENGHT TO POST MY CREATIONS ON LINE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUGHHH!!!!!!!

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