Surrender

Rated: E

Summary: She’s his release when he’s stressed and wants to hand over control for a while. He becomes her regular, and eventually her only. A Captain Wench AU.

A/N: A little gift for one of my dearest friends @motherkatereloyshipper. Hope you enjoy this, lovely. 

Yet another fic prompted by @caught-in-the-filter, this time with a picture of a collar and some excellent dialogue that I have stolen.

This is unbeta’d and written in a bit of a rush, so please just ignore any mistakes you might find. And while I did my best with the research for it, my knowledge of actual BDSM practices is still lacking in some areas so please just enjoy it for what it is. It is fiction.

Surrender

Swan was different to the other wenches. Hook had never been overpowered by a woman before - he was a bloody Captain, for godssakes. She had told him, down in the tavern, that if he wanted her, he’d have to accept the way she did things. How could Hook deny her? He was already drunk on her beauty and the fearlessness in her eyes. But from the moment he’d stepped inside her room, he was no longer in control.

“Strip,” Swan had commanded, and he’d been taken aback by her boldness, at her commanding of him, but before he could retort she’d only snapped back ever firmer, “I said strip.”

Hook was caught off guard; that was the only reason he obeyed. He liked the way she smiled at him though, as he carefully set his clothing on the chair, his coat draped neatly over the back of it. 

“You wouldn’t believe how many men simply toss their clothes on the floor at this point,” Swan said. She’d opened a few more buttons on her blouse as he’d stripped and Hook couldn’t help staring. Reaching. Trying to touch. 

But his approach was met with sharp and immediate disapproval. 

“Ah ah, no touching. You have to earn it.”

“Earn it, love?” He laughed at this, “You do realize who you’re talking to, don’t you?”

Hook would have thought the wench was bored with him, if not for the twinkle in her eye - no, she was enjoying this. 

“Yes, I do, but it appears you don’t. Perhaps I need to teach you your place.” 

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Wicked Games

Rated: T

Words: 6.1k

Summary: A little “what if” fic, in which Pan decides to be a bit meaner to poor Killian when they’re searching for Henry. 

A/N: Dedicated to @cosette141, without whom this fic would have languished in my WIPs folder forever. 

Don’t try to look for anything resembling a plot in this little fic lol It’s really just self-indulgent whump and h/c. Just enjoy it for what it is.

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Wicked Games

It happened quickly. He’d crept away for just a moment, needing to settle his thoughts and his traitorous body. Emma Swan was a dangerous temptation, and the memory of her taste, of her touch - the demanding way she’d pressed her lips to his, the possessive tug of her hands on his lapels, the way she breathed into his mouth for a moment afterwards as though reluctant to pull away - it was going to drive him insane if he wasn’t careful. But stealing away from the group left Hook vulnerable, and he should have known better. Because in a moment, there’s a small hand around his elbow and before he can shrug it off, he’s transported to another area of the island. Not far; he recognizes it immediately, but with the knowledge of where he is comes a horrible feeling of dread. There’s a mass of dreamshade behind Pan, and Hook knows he’s just shown everything on his face before he could lock it all away because Pan is grinning at him.

“Ah yes, this is your biggest fear, isn’t it?” Pan asks, “The dreamshade?” He cocks his head and walks forward, invading Hook’s space the way he always does. “It would be such a sad but fitting end for your story, wouldn’t it? After all, this is where it all began. This is where the pirate Captain Jones was made.” 

Hook grits his teeth, but Pan’s not wrong. His days of piracy did begin here, born of grief and pain he had quickly twisted into anger and spite, his confidence in his decision to break free of the shackles that was the king’s orders bolstered by the immediate agreement from what had been his brother’s crew. 

“But let’s talk about Emma Swan for a moment.”

In the past, Hook would have snapped at Pan, told him not to even talk about Emma, but he’s learned his lesson since then. It’s easier to simply let him talk. Let him tease and mock and twist the metaphorical knife all he likes, trying to get a response from Hook; he won’t succeed. Hook’s just thankful it’s only words he’s wielding today and not a literal knife.

“I know you have feelings for her.”

The hell would you know, you little bastard.

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