I'm Allie, in my 20's, live in California and would eventually LOVE to be a writer for television. But for now, this is just a place for my crazy Once Upon A Time/Captain Swan and general Will Scarlet/Michael Socha fangirling. I post lots of Captain Swan, Outlaw Queen, anything Will Scarlet, Outlander, and the occasional Ichabbi eand Mabastian/Mash.
*this is not a spoiler free blog, though I try to tag everything spoilery with "ouat spoilers"*
*this blog includes some adult themed writing/reblogs meant for 18+*
Once Upon A Time/OUATIW
The Walking Dead
Game of Thrones
American Horror Story
If you want to know more about me, feel free to ask. :D
Title: I Know What I Like (And Boy That Ain’t It)
Rating: S for indirect Smuff to include talking explicitly about sexual acts and acting all sorts of couply and fluffy.
Word Count: 3024
Summary: “Okay. Your most awkward sex ever. Shoot.” Emma and Killian talk sex. Captain Swan. Oneshot.
A/n: Can be read as a companion piece to “(But Most Of All) I Like The Way You Move”, in which I write drabbles about Killian and Emma having adorable, intimate, post coital talks about sex, but it is not at all related as far as plot. I just like to think it’s in the same world where this is a normal routine for them, cuddling and trading stories. I might write more in the future. I purposely wrote it with a similar pattern and flow. I hope you enjoy it! Let me know! :)
You can read here or ff.net
Tagged by Sara! :D
I just did Snowing, so I’ll do OQ. :D
Who is louder?
Regina. I’m not sure why, but I have always had this headcanon that Regina would be a bit of a screamer and overall uninhibited as far as noise levels went in bed. ;) Especially when she’s with her true love and not held back by anything else. Robin finds it quite satisfying.
Who is more experimental?
Regina. Robin is no bore in bed, but she can’t help but spice things up with a bit of magic. Robin never realized that magically undressing or teleportation would be a part of his lovemaking agenda, but he quite enjoys it.
Who takes more risks?
Robin takes more emotional risks, always reading her, never hiding how he feels without pushing too hard and this can be extended to the bedroom and how he prefers to make love to her, even when the queen is in more of a mood for meaningless sex.
Lights on or off?
Regina prefers the lights off, as does Robin (though candlelight is always acceptable), but only because he finds dim lighting and the hidden touches in the dark incredibly sensual.
Who is more likely to be caught masturbating?
Who comes first?
Robin is a gentleman and thusly, does his best to ensure that Regina is satisfied - ideally before him - but sometimes he has to take a moment and finish her with his fingers while his lips ghost across her smooth, warm skin. She doesn’t mind these times.
Who is better at oral and who prefers giving it?
Regina found out relatively quickly that Robin is very eager to please her in this way and quite talented, but he and Regina are relatively equal in their talents.
Who is more submissive?
Regina, dominant and strong in most parts of her life can play this role just as well in the bedroom, but she actually prefers to let Robin take the lead.
Who usually initiates things?
They both initiate pretty equally.
Who is more sensitive (sexually)?
They are both sensitive in different ways, to different touches, different looks, all of which the other delights in learning.
86. Seeing Red
The worst damned snowstorm in centuries. Centuries. And even that was a guesstimate the Blue Fairy gave him and Snow as a few of them huddled together inside Granny’s for an impromptu council meeting, the cups of piping hot coffee nearly sloshing out their contents because they were all shivering so hard.
And of course the worst damned snowstorm in centuries would hit Storybrooke, like freak incidents had confused it with the Bermuda Triangle, honing in on the anything-but-quaint coastal town. (How many other places saw curses and wraiths and giants and magical portals opened by the Wicked Witch? Because he had no interest whatsoever in going there, even if it were sunny and warm, the exact opposite of right now.)
And of course his daughter was nowhere to be found in said worst damned snowstorm in centuries, nor was another equally noticeable figure.
As he navigated the precarious path to Emma’s new apartment, he found himself feeling more than a little perturbed that Snow couldn’t have made this trip herself. It was her idea anyways, to check on Emma. He, on the other hand, had wanted to take Snow and Neal home and heed the gnawing suspicion knocking around in his brain trying to find a place to steady and settle into full-blown certainty. Which he definitely did not want.
David heaved a sigh that instantly crackled into frozen fractals in front of him. Nothing against Killian…but just…well…what the hell was he going to do if he was correct?
(He wasn’t though, right? They’d only come back from the Enchanted Forest a week ago. So, surely they wouldn’t…no. Surely not.
A tinny knock sliced through the air, and David started, ripped from his volleying thoughts. Blinking a long minute, he finally realized that yes, he had in fact walked up the stairs, had in fact crossed to Emma’s front porch, and definitely had used the door knocker because his fist was still clenching it. Plus, he could now hear mumblings coming from inside. A thud. Another thud.
He couldn’t take it anymore—did not want to be there one second longer—was turning to shuffle away as fast as the ice-covered sidewalk allowed him to go—
You still might be wrong, you still might be wrong. The mantra filled his head as he squared his shoulders and faced what he was sure was to be one of the most awkward moments of his life.
He wasn’t far off.
A shirtless Captain Hook stood in the doorway, able to do nothing else after the long silence that followed other than clear his throat and scratch behind his ear. “Do you—do you want me to go and get E—”
He hadn’t meant to yell. But as the man folded his arms across his chest, whether from the cold or in an ironic show of modesty (David didn’t really care to ponder), his brain seemed to be able to understand nothing else besides the fact that it hadn’t been Emma to answer the door. Which snowballed into why she hadn’t been at Granny’s, why she hadn’t answered her phone in the first place, which had then prompted Snow sending him on this stupid errand anyways—even though they all knew what was going on between these two, much as they tried to hide it—in the worst damned snowstorm in centuries.
David took a deep breath, wincing at the cold sharpness in his lungs. “Just—”
His eye caught something small, bright just inside the door on the floor. Something lacy and red…and oh hell.
He’d been right.
"Just tell her to call her mother," he blurted and bolted away, not caring one bit about his dignity—because how could there be any left?
Worst damned snowstorm of his life.