#pirate lesbians

[aha-my-villainous-thoughts]

So our pirate dad confirmed the Widow Evelyn Higgins and Mary Bonnet pairing, and I have to finally post this Queen of Hearts wedding portrait I did of them for the Tying the Knot zine last year! (There was meant to be a nsfw companion piece but I haven't finished it yet)

Have we got a ship name yet??

[ruthehale]

some OFMD S2 illustrations I made when it was still coming out / before we knew it would be rushed and cancelled </3

[butch4milfs]

i need them Biblically. like you don’t get it. i Need Them.

[wulf59-stuff]

Pirate capitan and he lover, plus their teddy bear second in command.

[meli-writes]

Le Loup Des Mers

An azure wave laps at the unrated sloop; a cutter-shaped, doubly-masted lady whomst fucks the wind and anyone she steers herself roughly and closely against. Those who dared be bigger — which is, near enough, all of them — put into place with a fourteen-gun broadside, whilst she ducks neatly under their own.

Sophie would swear she was firing now, if not for the quiet and pleasant wad rammed into the sinewed barrel of her neck-crook — in an increasingly, dreadfully, familiar manner; runs a hand over whip-bruised arms and the rear-bound wrists of her, evidently captive, guest.

“Godscocker— Lotte?” sputters Sophie, throat pickled in the salt-sodden air. She lurches aneath an errant beam, snatching at a foreign dagger on the vanity, and stumbles over lost vestments and an unsettlingly new pile of coin, “Are you okay? How did you get here—”

“Respectively, Capitainette—” says Lotte, a thirsting wetness in Sophie’s ear, heaving against the backboard, “you cut these bonds and I believe I will find myself irretrievably disposed towards twisting that knife, qui est le mien, into that yellow-stained gut of yours.”

“Lotte, come on— it’s me!” says Sophie, drawn to the guilt-cartouched volley of hickeys she’s besmirched on a citizenly-ennobled bosom. It wouldn’t be her first appeal lost to shot-deafened ears, nor in the Commandeur’s presence, who’s hazel stare cuts deeper than the blade in Sophie’s calloused paw. “What if, before then, you found Phillipe in your hands instead?” she asks — a devious, if desperate, plea.

“You— kept him?”

Sophie could hear the rusting anchor on Lotte’s chest unmoor — if only a knot. “Of course I did,” she says, exposed in thread-bare britches.

Lotte cautiously unfurls against the loosened, cut bonds as Sophie plucks a stuffed and sewn shark-sack from ceiling-clad netting, and sees it parted into her hands like rotten canal gates at the old river’s insistent ebbing, “You ‘ave ten minutes — then, I stab you.”

Sophie would never doubt she could — porcelain hands, an old and chevalier-made wound, hid an iron-wrought skeleton beneath. “So,” she hopes ten minutes is enough, “you’re in my quarters— in my bed.” Perhaps more.

“Oui. Rather the astutation for a mongrel as flea-bitten as yourself,” nips Lotte.

“And you were bound, and are—”

“In mortifying bereftness of mes garnementes? Oui— that is airily clear.”

She rounds a gum-rubber-tipped finger on Phillipe’s sole button-eye, where she’d stitched it a long time ago, sending the magic sensation of touch through a tender arm. “Mes Dieux— ‘ow inebriated are you?”

Sophie knew she’d had too much, head clotting with grapeshotted-splinters of last night. There was another ship’s centuried wine, dated 1689, dedicated to the Sun Empress who had sacrificed her kingdom, and autonomous-self, for the citizens. Still, “Was I— drunk?”

“Hmm— Oui,” sharps Lotte, with a tannic hint, “so-much-so you attempted board the flagship of La République, Modeste — mon Modeste. I am obliged to admit, loathingly so, that it was rather more than an admiral, if stupefying, dare.”

Lotte tottered up, wrapping thighs, a still-stinging pair of hot-crossed buns, over her lap, snapping a clockwork-laden finger when Sophie dared think she was permitted to speak.

“I believe what one said, to one’s crew and mine, after the dozen-or-so nine-tails,” she continues, as Sophie swallows, “was— and now, in ‘onour of this flaming, scuttled delight, I’m going to make the dirtiest sea-slattern out of this dazzling jewel of the nine seas.”

“Oh Gods—” mutters Sophie, finger then pressing on her lips.

“After so you dragged me, stripped-and-whipped, to these chambers, to undress—”

“And then I—”

Suddenly, Lotte had whole-handedly squished Sophie’s cheeks, furiously tight. “Then— you fell asleep, stuck in those britches,” she says, retracting her hand — the gentle tinkle of ceramic plates rubbing intimately upon another, “whereafter, I was forced to endure a lustrous smothering beneath those obscenely-broadened shoulders of yours — because the alchemised war-tea I took at your approach left me pulse-rushed for twelve hours.”

She huffs — runs her hand, cold with a rune-etched softness, arcanely so, over Sophie’s whitened cheek, trembling desires into britch-bound parts and restoring her ruddy hue.

“Okay— Six. It was fading as dawn spilled in, you had shifted enough I found sleep.” Then musing, “So, regarding time, there are some few minutes to make your last deliberations.”

“I-I wouldn’t have, not really, not ever— you know that,” she whimpers, daring not to touch.

“Non? So, why is ‘alf the Modeste’s crew dead, and ‘alf in the brig,” Lotte tells her, ayches as purringly, loin-stirringly absent as any sign of her sympathies.

“I was— drunk, dear. Lacking in— inhibitions.”

“Ah— and these inhibitions, these are now the reason I remain unravaged?” Lotte brings her finger to meanest thumbing of puppy-fat, where it pours from her britches, then all around its hem, to her front — porcelain chill overcome by Sophie’s own heat.

Sophie pulls away, “Look, what if I dropped you at port? The closest must be—”

“Non.”

“Non?”

“Non!” Lotte cracks, waves of irritation crashing on golden locks, “Don’t be— ridicule! It is exactly this lack of tact, or graft, that had you booted from l’académie.”

Sophie cannot help herself, a reverent laugh rolling off a well-used tongue, “Now, now — I can recall that was because I was caught booting you in the, well— booty.”

“I don’t think you were complaining about tact and graft then,” Sophie says, kiss-stained lips battered then with a hurled and velvet pillow. Followed thereafter with a tight-mouthed—

“Officiellement.”

“You are tactless now, sûrement,” Lotte runs a hand from teat-to-throat, “It is ransomed, the crew, at some significant port. You shall make it— one week, in such time you can display yourself, increasingly dispossessed, before claiming your républicaine she-bitch is a frigid, unenjoyable sort of cunt, or whatever ‘ole you’re putting yourself into these days.”

“To whomst you got— nowhere,” she finishes, “That you desire then to part with, only, albeit perhaps with a generous ransom.”

“But— Charlotte, won’t everyone think I’m—”

“Quoi? A meekened, rain-soaked hound who stuck its nose into the crevices it shouldn’t have — more than a fair trade, for damages caused to me, both material and reputational.”

Sophie pauses, finally bringing an arm over Lotte’s shoulder as she sets Phillipe down, watching her flinch on teasing wounds, “One week?”

“You ‘ave a sturdy bowsprit, non? And one’s words, again— dirtiest sea-slattern?”

---

(Masterpost)

originally written on cohost 09/03/2024, in response to Make Up A Criminal's prompt:

Pirate who swears she only got into this for lesbian cred and is super sorry

[silverthroatednightingale]

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[mostly-funnytwittertweets]

[jomarchswritingjacket]

if you’re gay then you dream of being at least one of these

feel free to replace gay with bi, pan, lesbian, ace, etc.

(and yes i did delete the original poll so i could add the gay vampire option)

[milsae]

Rose, Pepper, and Rose

[crtki]

more art hello void !! this is my pirate oc sidra who gets turned into a siren <3 (she/her)

[dykealloy]

ikkaku living her best life

[tubbytarchia]

Liau drew such an awesome salmon merPearl that I couldn't help but do the same because I can't stop thinking about her (also I turned it into Gempearl of course)

[jmitchelldraws]

Ah, the sea!

[butch4milfs]

Oh, you hit me once, I hit you back

You gave a kick, I gave a slap

You smashed a plate over my head

Then I set fire to our bed

A kick in the teeth is good for some

A kiss with a fist is better than none

[edscuntyeyeshadow]

the thumbs up is so stede