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salmon_pinkTitle: Turnaround
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Snow/Emma
Rating: NC-17
Words: 567
Timeline: Post-Season one
Notes: Assplay. Incest. For a prompt at the Sixth Annual Femslash Meme.
Summary: Snow White is something beyond just Mary Margaret, someone both new and familiar. That changes their dynamic, sure, but Emma isn't complaining.
Snow’s hand fists in Emma’s hair, tugs at it until Emma’s back is arching, and without the pillow to bury her face in every whimper sounds far too loud. Snow’s other hand is at her hip, fingers digging in hard, and the way Emma’s balancing, on her hands and knees, head pulled back and chest pushed out, it’s making her fuck her ass back against Snow’s mouth, making Snow’s tongue push in deep.
Being with Mary Margaret was never like this.
With Mary Margaret, Emma was in charge. With Mary Margaret, Emma was the adventurous one, the experienced one, the one with the suggestions and the ideas. Mary Margaret would listen with wide eyes, lips parted and breathing going shallow, the prettiest blush on her cheeks as Emma whispered all sorts of filth into the curve of her ear.
When the curse broke, their dynamic changed. Mary Margaret changed, because she was still herself, but she was also so much more. She was Snow as well, and Snow’s fought for her life and her freedom over and over, Snow is headstrong and refuses to live under anyone’s shadow, Snow is proud of her voice and her desire.
When the curse broke, they should have broken with it, should have broken apart, but instead they only fell deeper, only needed each other more.
And now Snow is the one promising new fantasies, and Emma is the one caught by surprise, tempted into new delights.
She used to be the glamorous city woman to Mary Margaret’s small-town girl, but Snow proved herself in a forest of magic and monsters, and she has no qualms about pushing Emma to their bed and making her scream.
And God, Emma wants to, wants to scream Snow’s name, but the walls are so thin. Maybe everyone in town already knows about them, maybe they don’t even care, or maybe they respect and love their queen too much to say anything to Snow’s face. But that doesn’t mean Emma’s ready to give them proof, so she bites down every sound. Bites down the gasp when Snow’s tongue undulates within her ass, bites down the whine when Snow sucks kisses into the swollen flesh around her rim.
It feels like they’ve been doing this for hours, even though she knows it can’t be true, can’t have been that long, it’s not possible. Emma’s dripping with it, cunt flushed and soaked and aching for pressure, but Snow won’t give it to her yet.
The grip on her hair vanishes, and Emma falls forward gratefully, mouth pressed to the pillow. Teeth digging into the cotton when thumbs spread her ass roughly, and she feels so exposed, so open and vulnerable and wrong but in the way that feels right. Can’t believe she’s never had this before, and there’s a fleeting thought of Mary Margaret before the curse broke, a vision of the way she might have looked if Emma had suggested this to her, if she pinned Mary Margaret to the mattress and ate her ass out and made her feel as opened up and amazing as Emma does right now.
It’s a missed opportunity, but there’s no regret, because this is better. Snow is better, complete and real and how she was always meant to be. Murmuring and moaning as she licks Emma slow, vibrations making her buck back into the perfect messiness of the kiss.
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Snow/Emma
Rating: NC-17
Words: 567
Timeline: Post-Season one
Notes: Assplay. Incest. For a prompt at the Sixth Annual Femslash Meme.
Summary: Snow White is something beyond just Mary Margaret, someone both new and familiar. That changes their dynamic, sure, but Emma isn't complaining.
Snow’s hand fists in Emma’s hair, tugs at it until Emma’s back is arching, and without the pillow to bury her face in every whimper sounds far too loud. Snow’s other hand is at her hip, fingers digging in hard, and the way Emma’s balancing, on her hands and knees, head pulled back and chest pushed out, it’s making her fuck her ass back against Snow’s mouth, making Snow’s tongue push in deep.
Being with Mary Margaret was never like this.
With Mary Margaret, Emma was in charge. With Mary Margaret, Emma was the adventurous one, the experienced one, the one with the suggestions and the ideas. Mary Margaret would listen with wide eyes, lips parted and breathing going shallow, the prettiest blush on her cheeks as Emma whispered all sorts of filth into the curve of her ear.
When the curse broke, their dynamic changed. Mary Margaret changed, because she was still herself, but she was also so much more. She was Snow as well, and Snow’s fought for her life and her freedom over and over, Snow is headstrong and refuses to live under anyone’s shadow, Snow is proud of her voice and her desire.
When the curse broke, they should have broken with it, should have broken apart, but instead they only fell deeper, only needed each other more.
And now Snow is the one promising new fantasies, and Emma is the one caught by surprise, tempted into new delights.
She used to be the glamorous city woman to Mary Margaret’s small-town girl, but Snow proved herself in a forest of magic and monsters, and she has no qualms about pushing Emma to their bed and making her scream.
And God, Emma wants to, wants to scream Snow’s name, but the walls are so thin. Maybe everyone in town already knows about them, maybe they don’t even care, or maybe they respect and love their queen too much to say anything to Snow’s face. But that doesn’t mean Emma’s ready to give them proof, so she bites down every sound. Bites down the gasp when Snow’s tongue undulates within her ass, bites down the whine when Snow sucks kisses into the swollen flesh around her rim.
It feels like they’ve been doing this for hours, even though she knows it can’t be true, can’t have been that long, it’s not possible. Emma’s dripping with it, cunt flushed and soaked and aching for pressure, but Snow won’t give it to her yet.
The grip on her hair vanishes, and Emma falls forward gratefully, mouth pressed to the pillow. Teeth digging into the cotton when thumbs spread her ass roughly, and she feels so exposed, so open and vulnerable and wrong but in the way that feels right. Can’t believe she’s never had this before, and there’s a fleeting thought of Mary Margaret before the curse broke, a vision of the way she might have looked if Emma had suggested this to her, if she pinned Mary Margaret to the mattress and ate her ass out and made her feel as opened up and amazing as Emma does right now.
It’s a missed opportunity, but there’s no regret, because this is better. Snow is better, complete and real and how she was always meant to be. Murmuring and moaning as she licks Emma slow, vibrations making her buck back into the perfect messiness of the kiss.
