So, there’s a full backstory here… I was supposed to post for CSCocktober, but time (and responsibilities and other such nonsense) got away from me. Here is my contribution. I’m new to Tumblr AND fanfic, but an old soul for CS. Please read and enjoy!
Rating: E for explicit and eating
No warnings except SS (super smut)
—————————————————————
Working overtime was simply a part of their lives. Emma spent hours on late-night stakeouts, and Killian spent late nights taking groups out on boat tours. Generally, they were able to make up the hours in the mornings, or on mutually agreed-upon days off (self-employment definitely had its perks, particularly choosing day-to-day that maybe you didn’t want to work on a given day). The past few weeks, though, had been a series of misses. If Emma had to wait-out a guy who was supposed to return to his girlfriend’s house by 8pm, he wouldn’t appear until after 11. If Killian had a private evening cruise for a surprise proposal, the overjoyed couple were too elated for him to return any time before midnight. And so it had been, for nearly three weeks.
Because of this, Emma found herself particularly excited to be home and showered before the sun had set. She was even more excited to know that, based upon various texts throughout the day, Killian would be joining her any minute. Deciding that she needed to occupy herself to stave off the nervous energy, she strolled into the kitchen for a glass of wine. Finding a new bottle of a holiday sangria she’d spied over the weekend, she thought this night was definitely cause for a sweet celebration. More quickly than she’d care to admit, she’d polished off two full glasses – seriously, what was the point of one of those huge wine glasses if you weren’t going to fill it? – and was feeling even more excited than she’d been before. Her excitement just so happened to take on a different tone, and her mind began playing with all the ways she could welcome Killian home.
“Love?” His smooth voice shook Emma from her daydream, and she ran to him, barely registering the huge smile on his face before she threw herself into his arms. “Well, this is a lovely welcome.”
Emma squeezed him and planted a kiss on his cheek before pulling back to look into his so-blue eyes. “I’m just…happy,” she answered. “I feel like we haven’t been home together to do anything other than sleep in forever.”
“Aye, love, me too,” he said, kissing her lips firmly before pulling her arms from around his neck. “However,” he continued after dropping a kiss on each of her fingers, “I’m afraid the sea spray kicked up more than I like today, so let me grab a shower before we enjoy this evening together, yeah?”
She smiled, feeling his gentle kisses all the way down to her toes. “Of course,” she replied. “I’ll just look over our menus, okay? Let’s just order something and catch up a bit, is that alright?”
He gave her one more quick squeeze before telling her, “Sounds perfect, Swan,” and heading towards their room.
Emma smiled, watching him walk away (Mmmmm, so fine, she thought to herself) before wandering back to the kitchen to grab the thick stack of takeout menus clipped onto the side of their refrigerator. She tried to concentrate on the food, really, but she found herself getting more and more distracted. And when she heard the shower turn on, and she began envisioning Killian naked and wet beneath the spray, she couldn’t even pretend to be interested in food anymore. Suddenly, she decided that another type of hunger needed to be satisfied before they could settle in for the night.
She walked into their bedroom, and peered towards the bathroom door, cracked open just a bit so it didn’t fog up too much during Killian’s shower. Knowing that he had a tendency to luxuriate under the spray for a bit, she took her time to set the scene. Emma began by pulling the covers back on the bed (why he insisted on making it each morning when it would just disturbed hours later, she’d never know) and fluffing the pillows against the headboard. She took note that Killian had put his dirty clothing directly in the hamper, refusing to leave any trace of a mess on the floor, but she couldn’t be bothered with that type of care. She tossed her t-shirt onto the floor, and let her sweatpants fall right where she stepped out of them. Settling on the bed, she stretched out until she was comfortable, her long legs reaching to the edge of the mattress while she fell against the mountain of pillows she’d arranged moments before. Her hair fell across her breasts, curls teasing the nipples that were slowly hardening in the cool air. Emma hummed with pleasure, her mind and body relaxing fully for the first time in days. Without consciously thinking about it, Emma’s hands began wandering her body. She let her fingers drift down her chest to tweak her nipples, pulling them to even stiffer peaks. Moans slipped out of her mouth as her hands drifted over her body. She brought one hand up to her hair, pushing the curls out of her face as the opposite hand drifted into other curls, the ones wet from desire at the apex of her thighs. She leaned her head back into the mountain of pillows, and both hands made their way between her legs. One hand gently spread her pinkest lips apart as the other stroked across her belly, through her folds, and softly over her clit as she found herself rolling her hips gently with her ministrations. She became so lost in her actions that she forgot the reason for them until a deep voice broke into her mind.
“Swan?”
Emma froze, head thrown back and one hand buried between her legs. She realized she’d been moaning as she stroked herself and, though she’d had every intention of engaging Killian in more enjoyable activities, she’d completely forgotten herself as she’d become lost in her own pleasure. She looked to him, unsure of how to proceed since he’d never caught her in this position before. However, when she saw how his normally bright eyes dark with lust, she decided to continue, letting him join in rather than starting fresh.
“Yes, Killian,” she said, somewhere between an answer and a groan. “Is there something you need?”
She allowed her eyes to drift from his face, and she followed the rivulets of water running down his neck and through the thick hair on his chest and stomach. She knew exactly where that hair led, and she’d have been distracted enough with that knowledge alone. However, he’d wrapped a towel around his waist after stepping out of the shower, and his rapidly hardening length was now testing the limits of the towel, and she found herself licking her lips in anticipation of what was just beyond the thin terry cloth towel straining against him.
“Oh, love,” he said, “you know exactly what I need.”
And he loosed the towel from his waist, allowing it to drop to the floor without a care in the world. She just barely caught a glimpse of his erect cock before he dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed. He grabbed her by her legs and yanked her down to the bottom of the bed, her ass dangling precariously off the edge. Without another word, he dropped his lips just above her knee, kissing his way up almost to where she wanted him. He let his nose drift against her wet arousal before he started up the opposite side, wet kisses dragging a path from her knee where she eagerly awaited his mouth, his cock, his whole entire face. He chuckled, and she nearly struck out in anger before realizing he was merely responding to her body and its desperate pleas for him. She was writhing and moaning, tweaking her tight pink nipples as he let his lips and tongue drift across her upper thighs and her lower lips.
“Oh, love,” he moaned, “you have no idea what you do to me. I could come from just tasting you,” he said, his deep tones reverberating across her sopping flesh as he dove into her.
She nearly sobbed, the feel of his pliantly determined tongue against her most sensitive parts driving her almost to distraction. She found herself angling her body against his face, rubbing on him in embarrassingly undistinguished ways, crying out for him to just give her more, and more, and more.
Yet somehow, she found herself caught up less in what she felt and more in what she heard. Killian was moaning, his deep voice sending shocks across her wet pussy, the sounds from his mouth making her even more turned on. And as she moved herself against his face, as she felt the rapid strokes of his hand against his cock striking the edge of the bed while he ate into her, she gradually began to slow, to question what he’d said.
“Oh, God, Killian, oh fuck, that feels so – oh, fuck, baby, please,” she moaned, “no, my love…”
And he finally mercifully rose his head, his blue eyes staring into her green ones, as he licked his lips, her arousal coating his tongue. “Yes, Swan,” he said darkly, just holding himself back from the precipice, “what do you need, my love?”
“You said,” she panted, barely holding herself together, “you said you could come from this alone…” she managed.
She didn’t realize her eyes were closed until she opened them against his dark laughter. “Oh, my love,” he purred, “you truly don’t realize what you do to me, do you?”
Before she could even begin considering his words, she found herself flipped around, her knees resting on the floor as he moved himself further and further up the bed. He was still damp from the shower, droplets sticking to all of his hair, and she couldn’t help but inhale the delicious aroma emanating off of him. Scents of the ocean and exotic spices and leather clung to her nose. She found herself breathing in deeply against her will, his very essence forcing its way into her.
“Hop up, Swan,” he said, reaching his hands down to tangle in her hair. “Let me show how very much I love your taste, darling.”
And against her better will, she hesitated. “Are you.. I mean… do you really?…”
At that, Killian laughed. He fucking laughed, the sound making her even more aroused.
“Love,” he said, “I’ve never been more sincere in my life.”
It took her less than a minute to catch up to him, because she just couldn’t deny the pleasure as he gripped her thighs and dragged her above his face. She tossed her head back as she grabbed her breasts, her hands tweaking her dusky nipples while he drove his face into her dripping cunt. She wasn’t able to deny the arousal he brought rushing into her, and she found herself grinding directly on top of him.
Their bedroom offered the luxury of a dresser mirror, one that allowed her to watch herself as she thrust onto his willing tongue. He pulled her onto him even further, and the deep vibrations from his moans only served to bring greater pleasure to her sensitive flesh. Emma found herself hesitating, not wanting to hurt him, and then he called out to her.
“Harder, love, fuck me harder with that perfect little pussy,” he moaned, and she felt each word to the very core of her being.
Emma groaned, and she drove herself down harder. Looking sideways into the mirror, she immediately became distracted by the view before her. Her lithe body rode him, and she saw exactly what she did to him. Killian’s hips drove higher and higher, thrusting against the demands of her body. And as she forced her sopping lips across his face, she let the sounds escaping his mouth drive her higher, and she rubbed her clit even harder against his greedy mouth. Emma threw her head back, and glanced sideways at the mirror, enthralled by the thrusting of his hips against nothing but air as she fucked his face. She keened, louder and higher, and she saw his hips stutter as his hands gripped her thighs even more tightly just as they both reached their climax. She ground herself onto him while she watched the thick white ribbons of cum leave his glorious cock and paint his belly, and her back, and every available space of skin between the two of them.Hee vision flashed white, the depth of their shared orgasms making her question both her sanity and her religion.
When she regained some semblance of self and had stretched her body out beside his, she blinked her eyes against his solid chest, unsure of his response yet unable to help herself from questioning it. “Killian…was that okay?”
His deep chuckle brought her back into herself. “Oh, love, I told you,” he said, “your delightful body is all I need. But if you need more convincing,” he chuckled darkly, “ well, love, just wait. That may have been the main course, but I do love dessert.”
Sometimes there’s a surprise a few weeks after the end – thank you!!
Look guys. We know better than anyone that sometimes in an event like this, there can be some performance anxiety and it takes a little longer for things to firm up… That’s okay though. Better late than never right? So with that in mind, here’s an anonymous submission that ‘came in’ just a little behind… (see what we did there with that backdoor double entendre?)
Working
overtime was simply a part of their lives. Emma spent hours on
late-night stakeouts, and Killian spent late nights taking groups out on
boat tours. Generally, they were able to make up the hours in the
mornings, or on mutually agreed-upon days off (self-employment
definitely had its perks, particularly choosing day-to-day that maybe
you didn’t want to work on a given day). The past few weeks, though, had
been a series of misses. If Emma had to wait-out a guy who was supposed
to return to his girlfriend’s house by 8pm, he wouldn’t appear until
after 11. If Killian had a private evening cruise for a surprise
proposal, the overjoyed couple were too elated for him to return any
time before midnight. And so it had been, for nearly three weeks.
Because of this, Emma found herself particularly excited to be home and
showered before the sun had set. She was even more excited to know that,
based upon various texts throughout the day, Killian would be joining
her any minute. Deciding that she needed to occupy herself to stave off
the nervous energy, she strolled into the kitchen for a glass of wine.
Finding a new bottle of a holiday sangria she’d spied over the weekend,
she thought this night was definitely cause for a sweet celebration.
More quickly than she’d care to admit, she’d polished off two full
glasses – seriously, what was the point of one of those huge wine
glasses if you weren’t going to fill it? – and was feeling even more
excited than she’d been before. Her excitement just so happened to take
on a different tone, and her mind began playing with all the ways she
could welcome Killian home.
“Love?” His smooth voice shook Emma from her daydream, and she ran to
him, barely registering the huge smile on his face before she threw
herself into his arms. “Well, this is a lovely welcome.”
I missed my original posting date but it’s still October and this is my contribution for @cscocktoberfest! Another extra scene in the BtH-verse, where Princess Emma finds a very interesting (cough*dirty*cough) book on the shelf in the captain’s quarters and has some questions about some unfamiliar words that Killian is all too happy to answer ; )
“Aye, love?” he answered without looking up, grease pencil in hand as he marked a port on the map in front of him and measured the distance from their current position, doing sums in his head and somewhat distracted by a particularly tricky bit of calculation.
“What does it mean when a randy young lad is secretly polishing his knob?”
“It means…what?”
The figures he’d painstakingly laboured over for the better part of an hour all flew out of his mind and her words lodged there instead while his head jerked up and he met Emma’s curious gaze across the cabin. She was sitting in her chair with a book in hand, skirts spilling over the sides and her ankles crossed, tucked away demurely underneath the seat and looking the very picture of a well-bred lady.
“After spying on the chambermaid in her bath, the randy young lad retires to his master’s empty study to polish his knob with renewed vigour. I’m guessing from the context that the author did not mean the knob on the door? And when he finishes, he gives a loud groan that almost rouses the whole household and hides the evidence in a handkerchief. The evidence of what?”
Killian blinked at that, the pencil going as limp in his hand as presumably the randy young lad’s knob did when he was done, slack-jawed and feeling that he probably bore more than a passing resemblance to a startled codfish at the moment. When he finally managed to find his voice it came out much higher than normal as he squeaked out, “What on earth are you reading?”
Set ambiguously in the 1920′s-1940′s in a world supposedly without magic, Detective Jones of Boston PD is a broken man with little ore than liquor to keep him going. When a strange string of murders and ominous rumors about a new King of crime bring him face to face with fairytales, Killian is anything but ready to meet, “The Swan”.
Winter fell swiftly over Boston, blankets of snow on cars and streets that kept even the hardiest indoors. Killian and Emma fared slightly better, trudging through drifts to get into the warmth of each other’s beds or Faemarket’s perpetually sunny courtyard.
The link grew stronger between them and Emma used it to her advantage, leaving Killian trying to hide the flush he felt at Emma tormenting him as he booked intakes or checked on anyone in the drunk tank. Killian tried to push Emma with long strokes of his tongue through what must be a glistening and ready quim, but Emma twisted him in ways that left him wrung out without being actually sated. Her song lit his blood to fire, and it refused to cool until he was buried in her fully.
“At last my love has come along
My lonely days are over and life is like a song, oh yeah
At last the skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up clover the night I looked at you
I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill I’ve never known, oh yeah
You smiled, you smiled oh and then the spell was cast
Summary: When there’s only two Whovians in the bar on Halloween, it’s inevitable that they’ll meet. And flirt. And have sex in a closet. Unlike the TARDIS, it’s actually not any bigger on the inside.
A/N: Just some Whovian fun in honor of @cscocktoberfest. And because I love Thirteen even if I’m way behind on watching. Lots of Doctor Who references lay ahead but It should be enjoyable even if you’re not a fan. Allons-y!
Emma hadn’t planned for her night to go this way. It wasn’t at all what she thought would happen when she agreed to go out for Halloween, and honestly, she might not have if she’d known it would happen.
What was that saying, though? “We’re all stories in the end; just make it a good one.”
Well, this one—and the man she was presently making out with in a lonely hallway at the Rabbit’s Hole—was shaping up to be a great one.
She’d noticed him right away from across the bar. It was hard not to, really, when they both stood out from a crowd that was filled with bro-dudes being bro-dudes and girls dressed as all manner of sexy somethings. Even Emma’s friends fit the mold—Mary Margaret and David were a sexy Snow White and her equally attractive (and scantily clad) Prince Charming, and Elsa was a sexy…well, Elsa.
So the fact that he wasn’t topless, or dressed as something idiotic or offensive (like Skeleboner, ugh—she had to fend off one of those just to get a drink) stood out like a beacon. She hadn’t even seen his face, but she could already tell he wasn’t one of those guys.
And that was partly because she’d recognize his costume anywhere. While there were a lot of costumes that mandated a suit, there weren’t a whole lot of brown pinstriped ones in pop culture.
Then her friends called her back, and their drinks were up, and she lost sight of the man in the throngs of people. Damn.
She tried to cast aside her disappointment as she dodged the douchebags through the crowd. That wasn’t why she was here—she was just having some fun with her friends while her son was out trick-or-treating with his. (And maybe attempting to reclaim some of her lost youth, after spending the bulk of hers raising Henry, who had looked way too grown in his Ghostbusters getup tonight.)
But, damn, did his shoulders fill out that jacket well, and it hugged his trim form perfectly. And what she could tell from the back of his head, his hair looked like it would feel great between her fingers. Granted, she was still imagining his front as David Tennant, so he might be letdown there—few guys stood a chance next to him.
Still, she was curious. And, glancing down at her own trench coat, they kind of went together.
Once she got back to her friends, Mary Margaret and Elsa decided that they really just wanted to dance, so the dance floor it was; she and Elsa danced together to avoid having to look at the sloppy makeouts from Mary Margaret and David. Her eyes scanned the crowd to see if she catch a glimpse of that suit, or even a man with dark hair and the glasses she noticed propped on his ears, but her search came up empty.
At some point, the True Love couple headed home to get some “privacy”, but Emma and Elsa weren’t quite ready yet. Call her obsessed, but Emma really wanted to find this guy. They both needed some water first, so Elsa headed back to their table while Emma went to the bar.
Though it was later in the evening, the place was still packed, so she squeezed into an empty spot and waited for the overworked barkeep to make his way over. She cast a few glances around to see if her mystery man was nearby, but still no luck. So she pulled her lone prop out of her pocket and fiddled with it while she waited.
Another person came up to the bar and took the empty space next to her, but she was too busy playing with the sound effects on her toy to really notice—at least, not until he spoke.
“Well, it looks like I’m not the only 10 in the room.”
She rolled her eyes at the dumb pickup line, even if his British accent was a bit enticing. “Please,” she started. “I’m a 13,” she threw back as she turned to face him—but then anything else she could have said got caught in her throat.
hiya, kids! happy halloween eve, here’s a little captain swan cocktoberfest offering for you. remember to be safe tomorrow–use protection when you fornicate in the moonlight when the veil is thinnest!
let’s bring things back to the good ole days–i’ve returned to the “a hard man is good to find” aka BDJ universe for this one. if graphic smut ain’t your thing, skip this one.
Well, she tried to. Unfortunately, her stupid friends were sitting there with her at the bar.
“Yo, Em,” Ruby said. “Someone is texting you.”
“Nope,” Emma said with a tight smile. She knew who it was, and she didn’t want to hear it. Or read it. Face to face only. “It’s just the reminder beep. He sent it a while ago, but I haven’t looked yet. Girls’ night,” she explained weakly, waving her drink at her friends by way of explanation.
“Yeah, but it could be a dick pic. I’m convinced he keeps sending them after all this time because he knows we’re all gonna see it. That pretty boy of yours is an exhibitionist.” Ruby set her drink down and leaned over, grabbing for Emma’s phone, but Emma swung her arm out of reach. Unfortunately, she swung it right toward Mer, who was there in a pinch, snatching the phone and shouting, “a-ha!” with a smile.
My last submission for CS Cocktober! Thanks to @initiala and @cscocktoberfest for creating this wonderful and dirty event!
Warning: This contains role play and BDSM (spanking, orgasm denial). Not as explicit as the last one, but you have been warned. Enjoy!
Emma Swan sighed once again as she looked at herself in the mirror. She was too lazy to get a Halloween costume, so Killian had volunteered to get her one. She should have known he would get her something completely ridiculous.
Notes: Here is my 2nd and final piece for @cscocktoberfest! So sorry it’s super late, RL has been a little upside down recently.
With every kiss that Killian placed upon his Swan’s neck and breasts, another obscene moan left her lips and made him cringe. It was their first time together in his room at Granny’s and he’d hoped to leave her breathless and wanting with his teasing touches, but instead she was producing moans and groans that reminded him of inexperienced working girls.
The next clearly exaggerated moan was too much for the centuries-old pirate and he sat up, pushing his way off the bed and tossing Emma’s shirt at her.
“Killian?“ she said in confusion, propping herself up on the bed, “What’s wrong?“
“Clearly this was a bad idea.“ he sighed, turning away from her and grabbing his flask from the desk in the room, “You can go and we don’t need to discuss this again.“
“You’re kicking me out?“ she demanded, getting to her feet and pulling her shirt on, “What the hell? I thought you wanted this?“
“I thought you did too!“ he snapped in frustration, biting the cork off his flask and drinking down a swing of rum, “But clearly my touch disgusts you just as I feared it would.“
“What are you talking about?“ she asked with a frown, “You don’t disgust me!“
Canon-compliant post 6×07 smut (at least I’m pretty sure it’s canon compliant? I never watched s6.) Later that night, Emma’s hand won’t stop shaking. A bit of praise kink. My second entry for @cscocktoberfest (Only a little bit late this time! Yay!) ~4.7k words. No major trigger warnings apply.
When they leave the Charming’s apartment that night, it’s not without copious complaining beforehand. Emma hadn’t wanted to leave the apartment where her father lay comatose in bed as Snow cuddled and tried to soothe a baby Neal whose crying had picked up when he realized his father wouldn’t respond to the pokes to the chest.
(Killian realized with a pang that it was a game Dave played with his son. Neal poking him would provoke a reaction, dramatic and giggle-inducing, that could entertain Neal for hours on end.)
(Now he just slept on, dead to the world.)
(All around, not a particularly banner day in Storybrooke.)
The streets of New Orleans were light up like a kaleidoscope, beaded necklaces flashing and refracting a million different colors, blinding her. Her whole world is spinning just a little, the buzz of the alcohol thrumming through her veins, lending a pleasant tint to everything happening. Hot bodies press against her as she tugs her friend over to another bar, music seeping out from under the door, a woman with tattoos and tartan skirts and clanging jewelry ushering them inside.
The walls are a deep red, almost black in the dim light. The pulse of the music crawls up from the soles of her feet and into her heart, bouncing in her bones and making them ache needly. Emma pushes her way to the bar, orders a whiskey sour and downs it in a few seconds, catching the eye of the man next to her still trying to get the barkeeps attention. She looks at him and finds herself caught in eyes as blue as the hottest part of a flame framed by thick, dark lashes. She smiles a little sloppily and he smiles back, dimples popping in his stubbled cheeks.
“I’m Killian,” he shouts over the thrum of the music, leaning ever so slightly closer to her on the bar. Emma slides her hand up his forearm, fingers curling around his bicep, squeezing softly then grazing her nails back down. Her hair falls in golden waves around them as she brings her lips up to his ear – the spark of a burgundy earring – and whispers her name back to him. He shivers and she grins wolfishly.
cshappybeginning 