ao3 // inspired by the Pride Flag colours and their respective meanings (loosely)
Red is the hot pulse of alive. That thing that drives Dean when it’s him and a were, or a vamp, or a demon, and maybe a knife. Red is the weight of his favourite gun in his hands. It’s the whistle of a bullet he doesn’t wait to see hit its mark. He knows it will. He is already gone, the way blood recedes into a rag.
Red is how difficult cleaning up is when there’s a thrum of do, and do, and live, and kill, nagging just under Dean’s red plaid. Just under his red-stained skin. He can scratch with red under his nails but the itch will remain.
Red is the way he fucks Cas sometimes. Violent and demanding. Red streaks clashing against gold where fingers dig a brief home. Indents of teeth left in plump lips. Red cheeks, tinted shoulders and flushed cocks. Red is the way Cas takes it, like he is the one who is giving, here.
The flames were red, or at least that’s how Dean recalls the memories of his four year old self. Red screams, a red command, something red on Sammy’s mouth, red that rivers not from veiny eyes, but from the crack in his soul. New and hungry. Ready to grow like red.
Red is the beginning, it is the end, and in Dean’s case, it is a lot of the in between.
It was a short drive from
the airstrip to her home outside Saint Petersburg, but after last week’s “breach”, Katya’s security was not taking any chances.
“The Breach.” That was the euphemism everyone was using. For the most tense, terrifying five minutes of her life, Katya’s crucial work had slowed to a crawl to repeat her story in excruciating detail to packs of hounding acronyms; the FSB, SVR, GRU- even Interpol had been allowed to debrief her, though their interest had waned quickly after they established that the closest she’d come to the Widowmaker was a sniper-bullet that had passed scant centimeters from her head.
“What about the woman in purple?” Katya had asked them, eager for even a scrap of information. There’d been no trace of her in their computer networks, nothing on the cameras. If not for the surviving guards that had caught a glimpse of her, she could have been a figment Katya’s imagination. If only she were that lucky.
Except all they had to offer was a long-winded explanation about unsubstantiated rumors, high-profile cybercrimes, and pattern recognition that boiled down to the bureaucratic equivalent of a shrug.
Of course there was nothing. Like chasing a shadow.
Note: Requests are currently closed. I will make a post with guidelines when they are open again. As tumblr is the only site that will let me list an individual rating per chapter I’ll rate them as content demands. However the larger compilation on both FFN and AO3 are rated M.
Emily shook her head lightly as she stared up at the brightly lit sign. Above her were the words Bella Porcellino, hung from a sign above an elegant doorway. Well-dressed patrons walked around her to exit and enter the building, and she could hear the sound of a piano drifting out from past the open door. A sudden gust of wind blew chills across her arms, prompting her to begin walking forward.
“What am I doing… this is insane… she probably won’t even show up…” Emily mumbled off a litany of complaints to no one in particular. She entered the restaurant lobby and cast a quick look around while fiddling with her dress. The mystery date was nowhere to be seen, although Emily spotted several tables concealed by the elegant columns throughout the dining area where her date could be hiding. Straightening her dress once more and taking a deep breath, she turned towards the wait staff at the front of the lobby.
Sarah had picked out an outfit for her friend which, in her own words, would “guarantee some action on the first date”. Emily wore a slim, form-fitting, low-cut dress which fell down to her ankles with slits cut out to expose a good deal of her legs. The shimmering blue fabric shone even in the dim light of the restaurant, and paired with heels and a dazzling necklace, even Emily admitted she felt as impressive as Sarah said she looked. Reaching the front of the lobby in a few steps, Emily shook back her hair and cleared her throat.
“Er- excuse me, but I’m supposed to meet someone? They, uh, might have a reservation, I don’t really know.” At the waitress’ confused look, Emily elaborated. “Oh! Her name is Fleur, I think?”
“Right this way, miss.” The waitress nodded and led the way out into the sea of tables. Emily hurried to keep up but repeatedly stopped to discreetly examine the dishes on each table. The dining area was a storm of mingling scents and delicious aromas, with wait staff rushing from table to kitchen bringing out food and clearing away plates. After nearly bumping into one of the waiters, Emily navigated her way to a table on the far side of the room where the waitress was waiting. A moment later, Emily felt a hand rest against her arm.
“Emily! I’m so glad you made it. I was worried for a minute you weren’t coming…” Fleur’s silky voice came across as a whisper into Emily’s ear. The blonde spun around in response, jerking her arm away from the other woman’s hand.
“Oh! Um. Yes. I made it! Got here in one piece. Not that I would get here any other way, heh…” Emily’s vocabulary crumbled at the sight of the stunning beauty standing next to her. She rubbed her arm anxiously where Fleur had touched her and let out a forced chuckle. “You, uh, you look great! Wait, not great, I’m sorry I know I already said that word this morning but I don’t mean that you’re not great just that I need a better word and–”
Fleur silenced Emily by holding up a finger to the other girl’s lips. A jolt of electric feeling ran through Emily’s body from the contact, and Fleur gave her partner a small grin.
“Relax.” She sat down on one side of the table and gestured to Emily to take the opposite seat. “And thank you. You look… magnificent… as well.” Her smile grew at her word choice, playfully teasing Emily’s awkwardness.
Emily quickly slid into her chair and hid her face behind the menu. “Thanks,” she mumbled quietly while her face turned beet red. When she heard Fleur pick up her menu as well, she took the opportunity to steal another glance at her date.
Fleur was breathtaking, to say the absolute least. She wore a flowing purple dress which seemed to cling to every curve on her body while hanging loosely from her shoulders in an elegant fashion. Her outfit accentuated the pronounced swell of her hips and chest, appearing to flow off of her body like a second skin. She wore her hair down, like before, openly displaying the colorful streak of purple strands running alongside her face. Her plump lips were a brighter and darker tone of purple than before, giving her a look of mystique and deadly charm. However, Emily’s eyes were drawn to the low cut of Fleur’s dress, which exposed so much skin it was barely respectable for the type of place they were in. Her fixation was only broken when a purple fingernail began to trace the contours of Fleur’s ample cleavage, leaving soft impressions in the pale skin. Emily snapped her head up to meet the Fleur’s bemused look.
“You know, I don’t recall there being a list of entrees written down there.” Fleur lifted her fingertip from her bosom and gently tapped Emily’s menu. “Also, your menu is upside down.”
Emily tossed her menu gently to the side and placed her head onto the table to hide her blush. “I… I don't…” she mumbled through her embarrassment, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I swear I’m not this awkward or creepy normally.”
Fleur giggled and shook her head. “No, no, it’s fine, really! I’ve gone out with guys who try to grab my boobs on the first date. Against that standard, you’re doing just fine,” she said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, I know I tend to draw a lot of attention - trust me, I’m used to it.”
Emily perked up slightly at this, her face slowly returning to normal. “Well. Regardless, I’m sorry for being so awkward. Can we… start over?” She stuck out her hand and Fleur took it in hers. “My name is Emily, I’m a creative writing major, I’m also part of the University dance team, and I’m no good at first dates.”
Fleur shook her hand gently. “I’m Fleur, I’m an art major, I’m the president of the gourmet cooking club, and…” She placed her elbows on the table and leaned over, causing her breasts to sway seductively and practically burst out of her dress. “…I think you’re adorable when you blush like that.”
Emily stammered as she felt warmth seeping throughout her body. Thankfully, the waitress arrived to take their orders and provided an opportunity for Emily to avert her eyes and organize her thoughts.
“Are you two ready to order?”
Fleur snapped her menu shut. Emily reached for the menu at her side, but instead found it already neatly folded in Fleur’s hand.
“Yes, we’re ready. We’d like the stuffed peppers for an appetizer, and an order of breadsticks, of course. I’ll have the house specialty lasagna, and she’ll have the three-cheese stuffed ravioli. Oh, and a bottle of the house white wine, as well.” Fleur rattled off the order and handed the menus to the waitress in one fluid motion. The waitress nodded once and quickly left with their orders. Meanwhile, Emily was left overwhelmed and could only open and close her mouth in apparent confusion.
Fleur reached over and clasped Emily’s hand in both of hers. “Trust me, the stuffed pasta here is the best thing you’ll ever taste. The cheese’s flavor just explodes in your mouth and…Mmmm.” Fleur moaned quietly for emphasis, then saw Emily’s look of surprise. “Oh, I’m so sorry; did you want to order something else? I guess I just got so carried away that I forgot to ask you.” Her eyebrows creased into a worried expression as she squeezed Emily’s hand gently.
The feel of Fleur’s soft hands curled around her own sent chills up Emily’s arm and froze all rational thought. “Uh… No, yeah, that’s fine. It sounds fantastic.” She was actually a little concerned about all the carbs in their meal with dance competition season starting soon, but she figured this was a night for experimentation.
“Oh, good. You will love it, I promise.” Fleur gave the blonde another sly grin. “So… Other than drifting off during lectures and ogling gorgeous women, what do you do in your free time?”
“Well, I already mentioned that I’m part of the dance team. State champions for two years running!” Emily flashed a grin in return, becoming used to the other girl’s constant flirting. “Other than that, I spend a lot of time writing for fun, studying, and… I guess that’s it.”
“Really? No time for partying it up? Sounds like you could use a little more excitement in your life.”
“Trust me, I have plenty enough excitement in my life already. A crazy roommate, my European History professor who hates me…”
Fleur pouted, her purple streak of hair falling over one side of her face. “Aw, this is no good at all, then.” Emily became acutely aware of Fleur’s hand on hers as Fleur began to stroke her palm with the tips of her nails.
“No good at all?”
“No!” Fleur exclaimed, fake sadness dripping in her voice. “It sounds to me like you’re a nice, shy, innocent girl,” she said as she leaned forward again. Emily subconsciously leaned in as well, drowning in the deep blue of Fleur’s eyes. Fleur turned her head slightly and closed the distance, pressing her supple cheek against Emily’s and bringing her lips mere millimeters away from her partner’s ear. Emily felt a trickle of baited breath flutter across her neck and light her nerves on fire as Fleur whispered to her.
“…and I would absolutely corrupt the fuck out of you.”
Emily could feel the other woman’s lips sound out every word against her skin. Fleur punctuated each syllable with a shake of her head, her silky skin sliding slowly over Emily’s cheek. Emily felt her nerves go haywire, fires burning across the surface of her body and her senses overwhelmed with the whispers of the seductress. Fleur pulled back to face Emily, their noses almost touching. She tilted her head down and subtly bit her lower lip as she gauged Emily’s reaction with wide, eager eyes.
“I’d be so, so bad for you. I can tell this is your first time going out with another woman.“ Her voice dropped an octave, now a barely audible whisper. “Are you a virgin, then? You’ve never been–” Her nails curled into Emily’s palm and elicited a soft gasp as she punctuated the word. “–fucked by anyone before? Would I be your first?”
She still held the blonde’s limp hand in her own. Slowly, she lifted it up and ran the tip of Emily’s finger across her breast, leaving ripples in the fabric of her dress. Teeth bit down on purple lips to stifle her low moan at the touch. “Naughty girl. You’re already copping a feel?” One finger became two, and three, and four, until Emily’s entire hand began to mash itself into Fleur’s melon-sized flesh. “I’m going to make you so, so–”
“Oh, good, our appetizer is here!” In the time it took for Emily to blink, Fleur retracted her hand and slouched back into her seat. She stared into Emily’s eyes, licked her glistening purple lips once, and winked before turning to face the approaching waitress. Emily glanced around wildly, but no one around their secluded table had seemed to notice what was happening. A massive platter of stuffed peppers was placed in the center of the table, along with a large basket of bread and two plates. A second waiter came to the table a moment later to pour two glasses of wine for the women.
Emily barely registered any of it. Her vision felt cloudy and the rest of the room seemed subdued and muted. All her attention and focus was narrowed in on the girl in front of her, those purple lips burned into her retinas. Every slight touch against her skin felt red hot.
“Miss, are you uncomfortable? Would you like us to turn down the temperature?” the waitress asked after noticing Emily’s reddened face.
“N-No, I think I-I’m fine.” Emily replied, sending the waitress away. She quickly grabbed her glass of wine and downed half of it, relishing the cool relief it gave her. She took a few deep breaths and finally turned to face Fleur once again.
“W-What was that?”
“These? They’re stuffed peppers, I’m not sure what they’ve got in them…” Fleur feigned innocence until she saw Emily’s stunned look. “Oh, that? I told you, you look adorable when you blush!” She winked at the blonde and stabbed a pepper with her fork.
Emily felt herself beginning to calm down again. Myriad emotions still ran through her mind, but they were almost all drowned out by a mental voice screaming ‘This girl is hot!’ She had never come close to experiencing anything like this in her life, but she knew some part of her deep down craved more of it. Pushing those thoughts out of her head for the moment, Emily instead tried to focus on eating. She followed Fleur’s lead and stabbed a single pepper with her fork, then popped it into her mouth. She took a moment to chew the lump of fried vegetable and dough before swallowing.
“Mmm! Alright, I admit, that is really good.” Emily pointed her fork at the plate and nodded in appreciation. Part of her was just glad to return to normal conversation.
“Really? You’re not just protecting my culinary feelings?” Fleur joked.
“Really! I’m kind of surprised, I don’t usually go for heavier food like this but–”
Fleur cut Emily off. “Perfect! There’s plenty more here, and I’m so glad I don’t have to eat them by myself. Gotta watch that figure, ya know?” She wiggled in her seat as she grabbed hold of the platter. Tilting it, she began using her fork to slide half the peppers onto Emily’s plate.
“Oh, please, I don’t need that many.” Emily picked up her plate and held it out to Fleur, trying to shuffle some of the peppers back onto the platter.
“Don’t worry about it, I’m buying tonight. Oh, sorry! Let me get that for you.” Fleur took Emily’s plate, placed two buttery breadsticks onto it, and handed it back.
“Oh, no, I didn’t want–”
Emily was silenced again by a moan from Fleur as she bit into her own breadstick. “You have got to try this, right now. It is so good!” She brushed her purple bangs behind her ears and bit off another chunk of bread.
Slowly, Emily followed suit. She picked up her own bread, inspected it, and tore off a chunk. It was covered with seasonings and had a greasy sheen, but still smelled delicious. A droplet of butter fell from the bread to Emily’s plate.
“I don’t know… It looks a little too greasy for my tastes.”
“Don’t be so picky, just eat it.” Fleur gave Emily her best puppy-dog eyes. “One bite? Just for me?”
Emily couldn’t help but roll her eyes and giggle. “Alright. One.” She bit into the breadstick, eyes widening at the taste. She frantically chewed and swallowed the buttery bread before biting off another piece, and another. “Mmmph! Ok, you’re right - this is really good.” Finishing the first one, she began to not-so-subtly eye the second.
Fleur caught the look. “Oh come on, don’t just stare at it, eat it! Splurge a little, nerd girl!” Emily responded with a glare, but began giggling after a few seconds. She popped another stuffed pepper into her mouth and began nibbling the second breadstick on Fleur’s encouragement.
“Don’t call me nerd girl! I’ll have you know I’m watching my carbs to get ready for dance practice next week.” Finishing the second breadstick, Emily started on her third pepper.
“Pshhh. Look at you! You’re in great shape. You can afford to eat some damn breadsticks if you want to.” Fleur placed her second one on her date’s plate and plucked another stuffed pepper for herself. “So, what kind of dances do you do?”
“Oh, all kinds!” Emily began to get lost in the conversation about one of her favorite passions. The remainder of the stuffed peppers on her plate, as well as the third breadstick, disappeared over the course of their talk.
“…mmph, and that’s why they have to keep their left leg bent when they do those-urp- jumps. Excuse me!” Emily apologized as she finished explaining one of her more complicated moves to Fleur.
“Wow. I had no idea that’s how they did it.” Fleur shook her head in astonishment and ignored the interruption. Before Emily could add anything to the explanation, Fleur nodded her head to the left. “Finally, our food is here. Took them long enough.”
A different waitress than before approached the table with a wide circular tray. She turned to Fleur.
“One house special lasagna?”
“That’s mine, yes,” Fleur confirmed. The waitress set a wide plate heaped with lasagna in front of Fleur and shifted the appetizer plates. “Here, would you mind taking these plates away for us?” Fleur asked, holding up her own empty plate. Before Emily could comment, Fleur slid the remaining third of the stuffed peppers onto Emily’s plate and gave the larger platter to the server. “Making room,” was the only explanation she gave to Emily.
Next, the waitress set down a wide, steaming bowl in front of Emily, moving her appetizer plate to the side. Emily was stunned; it looked like someone had made a mountain of cheese in a bowl and fried it. The bowl contained multiple handfuls of large, cheese stuffed raviolis, which were then placed in an additional cheese sauce.
“Oh my god. There’s no way I’m going to be able to eat all of this.” Emily told her date, eyeing her meal skeptically. She was already somewhat full from all the food from their first course, and couldn’t imagine a normal human eating that much grease and cheese in one sitting. She prodded it experimentally with her fork. Gulping, she then stuck her fork entirely into the well of fondue and withdrew a large ravioli, strings of half-melted parmesan hanging off of it. She twirled it once to collect the stray cheese and thrust it into her mouth.
“Well? What do you think?” Fleur asked while chewing a mouthful of lasagna. “Good?”
“Better than good.” Emily replied with a full mouth.“Where has this been all my life?” Multiple flavors intermingled in her mouth, the warm packets of greasy cheese and dough practically melting on her tongue. However, when she swallowed the bite, it felt like a lump of material settling into her stomach.
“Oof. Ok, I’m already full.” Emily groaned, setting her fork on the edge of the bowl.
Fleur frowned at her.
“You’re joking.” Emily shook her head in response. Fleur eyed the food with a gleam in her eye. “There’s no way I’m letting you waste some of the best Italian food in town.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, it’s just too–”
“Stop.” Fleur held up a hand and pointed to Emily’s glass of wine. “Drink.”
“Trust me. Drink.”
“Um… Alright?” Emily took a sip of wine.
“Great. Now take a bite.” Fleur pointed to the cheesy pasta.
Emily sighed. “Yeah, alright, I get it.” She took a bite out of another ravioli square and glared at the woman opposite her. “You’re worse than my mother,” Emily teased.
“It’s only because I care about you!” Fleur teased back with a mock lecturing tone. Both girls descended into giggles at this. “Speaking of that, where are you from?”
Emily slurped up another spoonful of rich fondue. “I’m local. Both my parents were born and raised here.” Fleur reached over, stabbed a stuffed pepper with her fork, and held it out in front of Emily’s mouth. The blonde chuckled at the gesture but opened her mouth to accept it.
“I’m from out of town, but I live in an apartment nearby for the spring semester classes. Like you, I assume.” Emily nodded her head to confirm. “I was never really that close to my parents.”
After a while of small talk and introductions, Emily was completely stuffed. She felt ready to burst, and could practically feel the seams of her dress straining against her belly. She ran her fork along the side of the bowl to scoop up some of the cheesy residue and placed it onto the last stuffed pepper. She couldn’t believe she had managed to eat every last one; she couldn’t remember how many Fleur took, but it certainly didn’t seem like half.
A low gurgle erupted from Emily’s gut as she tried to keep down the forkfuls of cheese she had eaten. Looking down, she saw that about half the pasta on her plate remained untouched. Fleur put her own fork down next to her half-finished lasagna and stared pointedly at Emily.
“What’s the matter? You’re not finished, are you?”
“Listen, Fleur, I’m being dead serious,” Emily said, “I don’t think I can physically keep any more of this down.”
“Of course you can! You just need a little motivation.” Fleur drummed her fingers on the table. “How about we play a little game?”
At the acceptance of her invitation, Fleur gave Emily a knowing smile. She gently picked up the bottle of wine sitting to the right of their meals and refilled Emily’s glass to the brim. Scooting her chair closer to the table, Fleur then arched her fingers together in contemplation.
“The rules are simple. When I say ‘drink’, take a sip,” she clinked a purple nail on the edge of Emily’s wine glass, “and when I say ‘eat’, take a nice, big bite.” She nodded her head towards Emily’s plate. “Now, drink.”
Emily raised her eyebrow at the other woman, but complied. She carefully brought the glass to her lips and took a small sip.
“Good. Now eat.”
“I told you, I’m way too full to even look at this right now!” Emily exclaimed.
Fleur frowned. “Let me clarify the rules. You eat–” She gave Emily a sly look and barely parted her lips. “–or else.”
Emily jumped slightly as a foreign touch drifted across her belly. Looking down, she saw Fleur’s leg extended under the table, the pointed tip of her black heels tracing circles around Emily’s belly button. Fleur’s foot seemed to zero in on the side of her gut which ached with fullness and targeted it. With a lunge, Fleur jabbed her foot into Emily’s side.
“Ow! What the hell-” Emily stopped when she felt a sudden eruption of pressure in her gut. Her tormentor’s shoe dug deeper into her bloated belly, creating a surge of rising pressure and causing Emily to nearly hurl. “UUUUURRP.” Emily let out a loud belch.
“Good girl. Feel better now?” Blue eyes locked onto hazel from behind a veil of purple strands. “Do you think you can take just one more bite for me?”
Emily nodded dumbly and took a meek bite out of another pasta. A long string of gooey cheese was left hanging between her plate and her mouth.
Fleur reached over and twirled the stray cheese around her finger, then lifted it to Emily’s half-parted lips. She gently stuck it into Emily’s mouth, allowing her to slurp the food off before she withdrew her glistening finger. She ran it over Emily’s lips and left a greasy trail across them, then did the same to her own indigo lips. “Eat,” she whispered the command.
Emily was torn between half a dozen maddening sensations stimulating her body. Fleur’s seductive voice was all she could hear beyond the distant din of the restaurant, and each word sent chills down her spine. Her lips tingled from Fleur’s touch, while her mouth desperately craved the taste of both the greasy morsel Fleur had fed her and the other girl’s shimmering, plump lips. Fleur’s heel remained rested on her tiny belly, leaving a threat hanging over the air of the table. The blonde’s thoughts ran in circles as she desperately tried to clear the fog in her mind and focus, but she found herself returning time and time again to Fleur. The woman dominated her focus and invaded every thought, leaving her body flushed with suppressed heat. Embarrassed beyond belief at her own table manners and aroused past rational thought, Emily found that she could do little but follow Fleur’s suggestive commands.
Stabbing two thick, cheesy raviolis, Emily began to gorge herself on the pasta in front of her. She ladled forkfuls of grease and cheese to her face and greedily sucked them down, ignoring the building tension in her stomach and straining of her belly against her dress. Every time she began to slow, Fleur reapplied pressure to her gut and sent a wave of pressure and nausea up her body, prompting her to resume eating before she lost either her nerve or her dinner. Occasionally Fleur would lift her heel from Emily’s side, allowing her a brief respite to gulp down a mouthful of wine. It was a cycle of gluttony and punishment in which Fleur pulled all the strings, and as the meal went on Emily could feel the wine creating a buzzing in her head and a dulling of her senses. By the time she crammed the last doughy lump into her mouth, she felt filled with heavy grease and fat, her body slowly succumbing to the light buzz of the wine and lust for the woman across from her. She couldn’t fight it, couldn’t resist loving every second of it.
And no matter what every fiber of her common sense screamed at her, she craved more.
Her plate finally cleared, the stuffed girl leaned back in relief. However, Fleur gave her no respite. “Wow, you must have been hungrier than you thought! I’m actually feeling full myself. It’s too bad this stuff doesn’t keep well for leftovers… but if you feel up to it, I’d be glad to share.” Fleur used her fork to slide the remaining third of her lasagna onto Emily’s plate.
Emily groaned and shook her head. She offered feebly: “Ugh… not hungry.” She pushed the plate away from her.
Fleur’s hand shot out and grasped the other side of the plate, slowly forcing it back in front of her date. “No, please, I insist.” Before Emily could protest further Fleur shifted her leg and gently tapped her heel between Emily’s thighs, easily rooting out her most sensitive spot.
A jolt of heat, electricity, and shame burnt through Emily’s spine. Stars appeared in her vision as she tried to process the feeling. Arousal and a deep craving surged into every part of her body, lighting up her face and creating a deep ache in her core. Fleur observed all this and gracefully pressed the full wine glass to Emily’s lips. Emily drained it, savoring the cool relief it once again brought her. However, Fleur refilled it once again with the last drops of liquid from the bottle and pressed it to Emily’s lips again. She drank it more slowly this time, but still managed to finish the glass with a gasp.
Emily could barely hear the surrounding tables or notice anything but her own food and Fleur as her thoughts grew fuzzier. The only thing that cut through the fog were the feelings of her taut belly, the lasting touch of Fleur’s foot, and the intoxicating voice and beauty of the other woman.
She felt a fork slide into her hand. Fleur guided her hand over to the waiting pile of lasagna and applied more pressure to her heel with every inch closer her hand moved. The message was clear to Emily.
Fleur lifted her hand off of Emily’s, leaving the other girl shaking with indecision. Slowly, she brought her fork down to the plate, ignoring the protests of her stomach. When her utensil touched the pile of cheese, sauce, and dough, Emily felt Fleur lift her foot up and gently flick the tip of her shoe upwards. With a shudder, she scooped up a lump of lasagna and, steeling her nerves, shoved it into her mouth.
The instant the food was past her lips, Emily was rocked by a wave of heat and pleasure. Fleur dug her heel deep between Emily’s thighs and began grinding against it rhythmically. As Emily chewed and swallowed, forcing the calorie-stuffed bite down, Fleur slowed to a stop. When Emily looked up, her date merely stared back with half lidded eyes and a bemused smile. An outstretched finger tapped the plate impatiently, prompting Emily to continue.
Each bite was rewarded with the same reaction from Fleur. Emily scarfed down the pasta dish as quickly as she could, craving the growing fullness and desire building up in her core. Every hesitation brought the seductress’ attentions to a halt, leaving her feeling empty and desperate for more. Emily nearly sighed in disappointment when she saw that the plate was now empty and Fleur withdrew.
“What an appetite! I envy your metabolism,” Fleur said as their waitress approached to clear away the empty plates. “Personally, I’m saving room for dessert. My friend told me that I absolutely have to try this place’s chocolate cake.” She said this as she faced the waitress, giving her a small nod. A moment later she returned with a large slice of rich, decadent cake.
“Ah… I…” Emily searched for words. This was moving too fast. She couldn’t begin to process what had happened in the last half an hour, much less keep up with what seemed to be an endless array of meals ordered by her date. “I mean… I really don’t think I should… I can’t… carbs…” Emily mumbled unintelligibly, trying to find a reason to refuse.
“Aw, don’t you want to try just a little bite? A little sugar never hurt anyone.” Fleur assaulted Emily with a pair of pitiful, imploring eyes. This all seemed too familiar to Emily, but she was beyond questioning it now.
Emily’s head swam with alcohol and Fleur’s advances. She hesitated, letting the suggestion sink in, before meeting Fleur’s imploring gaze and giving in. She nodded and picked up a fork, but before she could stab the side of the cake, Fleur jerked the plate away.
“Oh, but you’re right. You ate so much tonight, you must be so full.” Fleur rested her palm on Emily’s empty hand and caressed it reassuringly. “Unless you really want some?”
Emily could feel her heart pounding, her face burning with desire and hunger. She nodded weakly. “Yeah, why not. Like you said, it’s just a little sugar…”
Fleur clasped Emily’s other hand, causing her to drop the fork. She leaned in once more, running her heel teasingly along Emily’s inner thigh. “Not good enough,” she whispered, lifting a hand to brush a strand of blonde hair aside, “I need you to say it for me. Tell me what you really want.”
Emily gulped. This wasn’t right. She wasn’t thinking right. She tried to pull away, but her lips moved against her will, responding to what her body demanded. “I… I don’t want to share it. I want the whole thing, it’s just… I- I’m so full, I don’t…” Emily felt dizzy, but every word she spoke brought Fleur’s wandering foot farther and farther up her thigh. “I need… I need you to help me…” She was rewarded with the sensation of Fleur’s heel pressing down between her legs.
Fleur already had a fork heaped with chocolate icing at the ready. When her date finished speaking, her face lit up in a wide smile. She immediately responded by rotating her foot slowly, sending shockwaves up and down Emily’s body and eliciting a panicked gasp. The forkful of cake was in the blonde’s mouth before she could recover. “Of course, sweetie. Whatever you need.”
Emily swallowed the cake eagerly and clutched the edges of the table for support. “More,” she whispered.
Fleur began to repeat the process, scooping up a large pile of sugary bread and frosting before grinding her heel into Emily’s crotch and stuffing the other girl’s open mouth when she reacted. As the slice of cake slowly disappeared, Fleur slid her foot lower and lower until it was nestled between Emily’s sensitive areas and her chair. She sped up her ministrations as she neared the final few chunks of dessert.
By the time Fleur ran her fork across the plate to catch the last few crumbs and dribbles of icing, Emily could barely move without sharp pains of fullness deep in her gut. She greedily sucked down the last forkful of frosting and gasped for breath, feeling her stomach churn in response. She could feel a building pressure in her gut, a combination of stuffed bloatedness and cascading waves of pleasure. Just as that pressure reached its peak, however, Fleur’s foot froze in place.
“I have your check, if you’re ready?” The waitress’ voice cut through the haze of Emily’s thoughts. The woman stood beside the table, black book in hand and waiting expectantly. Her polite smile and professional look betrayed no indication that she was aware of what was happening at the table.
Fleur quickly slipped her credit card into the checkbook and handed it back. She dismissed the waitress with a casual wave. With a sensual sigh, she slid her foot back along Emily’s inner thigh and down to the floor. Giving her date a long look, she admired her handiwork.
“Nghhh…” Emily whimpered pitifully at the other girl’s movement. She was was a completely stuffed, flushed, turned-on emotional wreck, but she craved another second of Fleur’s touch more than anything in the world at that instant. Her mouth hung half-open, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps of desire and torturous denial. Fleur shook her head and cupped Emily’s cheek, then began gently murmuring to her.
“Breathe, baby. Relax… that’s it…” Fleur ran her fingers over heated pale skin and waited for the feel of Emily’s pulse to slow. When she felt the other girl had regained control over her emotions, she withdrew and rested her head in one hand. “Well, this was fun!”
Emily blinked once, then nodded. “Yeah. Fun,” Emily replied, slightly monotone. The entire experience still felt like a dream to her.
“What’s the matter? Was something wrong with the food?” Fleur caught on to the tone. “I hope I didn’t go too far with… you know, playing around? I’ve been told I’m not good with personal space.” She punctuated her comment with a sultry wink.
Emily took a moment to organize her thoughts. This was all wrong. Nothing had gone like she had expected. The night had ended with her eating a week’s worth of calories and nearly having sex with a stranger. She was pretty sure half the things Fleur had done could be considered sexual harassment, and she’d be insane for thinking any of this was ok. By all standards, it was a first date from hell.
But she really, reallywanted to do it again.
“No,” Emily stuttered, “I mean, yes. Yes, this was fun, yes, I wasn’t expecting that level of… contact…” She blushed again and crossed her legs. “…but also yes, I didn’t, er, mind it? Except the stuff about corrupting, the, uh, you-know what out of me.”
Fleur’s eyebrows arched upwards and she let out a quiet ‘Eeeee!’ of excitement. “Oh my god, you’re so adorably awkward! Do you seriously not curse?” Emily continued to flounder around verbally before Fleur cut her off again. “It’s fine, I get it. You can’t help it if you’re an innocent nerd.”
Emily rolled her eyes, becoming more comfortable with her date’s light teasing. “Yeah, well, this nerd blames you for getting me all flustered. I swear I’m usually better with words than this.”
“Sure you are.” Fleur grinned at the glare she earned from across the table. “Maybe it’s time for you to quit while you’re behind. You good to go?”
Emily nodded and pushed her chair back. As she stood up to follow Fleur’s lead, she was struck by a wave of queasy fullness and strained fabric across her midsection. “Ugh, I’m so full. Let’s not do a restaurant next time.”
Fleur instantly replied with a curious hum. Emily instantly recognized her mistake. “I mean, if you want there to be a next time! Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume anything, but you said you had fun and I said I had fun and-” Emily backtracked desperately.
Fleur sighed again and put her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “Emily. Please stop talking.” The blonde snapped her mouth shut. “Of course I’d like to have a ‘next time’. Preferably sooner than later.” A moment later, she adopted the sly and sultry face that Emily was beginning to recognize all too well. Twirling a loop of blonde hair around her finger, she slowly pulled Emily in close until they were an inch apart.
“Except… something tells me this sexy little nerd girl didn’t come up with those smooth texts from earlier. Could it be that someone else set you up?” Emily tried to avoid meeting Fleur’s piercing stare. “Maybe that roommate you mentioned?”
“I meant to text you myself! Eventually.”
“Well then, I suggest we schedule our little ‘next time’ right now.” Fleur licked her lips greedily. “I don’t think I can wait for ‘eventually’.”
Emily could feel each puff of sweet-scented breath against her face. “Um… Yeah. Let’s not do eventually. What, uh, what sounds good to you?”
“How about… tomorrow at noon, meet me at the theater over on the North side of campus.” Emily nodded eagerly at the idea. “Or we could just spend some time over at my place, and you could get what you really want… ”
“What… what I really want?”
Fleur tugged on her captive strand of Emily’s hair more aggressively. “Don’t make me spell it out.” She caressed Emily’s belly with her other hand once before reaching over to the table. She dabbed her finger onto the discarded cake plate and ran it across Emily’s exposed neck, leaving behind a smear of frosting. “I’ll text you my address. Show up with that cleaned off, and we’ll head over to the movies. If not… well, you can’t go out looking like that. We’ll have to find an alternative form of entertainment.” The last words were spoken at barely a whisper, as if she was sharing a lethal secret. At last she pulled away, waved goodbye, and quickly walked off into the now-packed restaurant. Emily blinked for a moment and lost her in the crowd.
Fleur quietly mouthed out a series of numbers to herself as she walked through the crowded dining area. After committing Emily’s dress size to memory, she made a mental note to go shopping tomorrow for the next size up.
Emily sat in silence for the taxi ride back to her apartment. The smear of frosting had begun to slowly melt and drip down the side of her pale skin, filling the air around her head with a sickeningly sweet odor. But no matter how many times she reached up, she couldn’t bring herself to wipe away Fleur’s mark.
Hope you like this! I wasn’t totally sure whether to include children, so I did. I don’t know if I’m satisfied with how it turned out, but I hope you enjoy it!
Karma woke up to his family not so sneakily sneaking into his room. He had been simply lying in bed, awake, for the past couple hours, and didn’t have any interest in getting up. A couple of creaks sounded as they stepped into the room, his daughter tripping a little on the way. “Shh!” “Oh, sorry!” “What time is it?” he groaned, rubbing her eyes. He turned on the light, revealing none other than his family standing before him, holding a giant present of some sort. He stared, shocked. The present was in a rather large box, wrapped in red wrapping paper. A navy blue bow sat on the top of it. “Happy Fathers Day!!” they exclaimed, holding out the present. Manami smiled, picking up a plate of various breakfast foods. “The kids and I made you some breakfast, I really hope you like it!” Karma smiled, picking up a fork from the plate and tried a bite of the egg. “This is pretty good, but what do we have here?” He picked up a piece of egg that was so burnt you could hardly tell what it started as, and gave a small smirk to his son. In return, his son pouted, his purple hair moving to cover up most of his face. “Well, it’s not my fault!!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms. “I just FORGOT they were cooking!!” Karma laughed. “Joking, joking. They’re not too terribly bad. If you really want to learn how to cook, work at it some more.” “Now, could you and your sister work on your homework?” Manami asked, ushering them out of the room. Once his children walked out to do their homework (grumbling all the way, of course), Karma smiled at Manami. “Wow, what did you have to do to get them to make breakfast?” Karma teased. Manami rested her head on his shoulder. “Too many things. It involved letting them play with a little of my lab tools…” Karma chuckled, planting a kiss on her lips and putting his arm around her shoulders. Manami blushed, smiling sheepishly. “Happy Father’s Day, Karma!” He vaguely remembered the first time they met, the first date they had, their first kiss. They’d had many firsts together, and today was one of them: His first father’s day, at least where they actually celebrated. Gazing into her eyes, Karma gave a small smile. “Happy Father’s Day.”
Summary: "You can take my breath away…or you know, give it back.“Jon hated jet skiing or any water sport for that matter. But this year, the Targaryens chose to spend their long weekend at one of the resorts at the Trident. Forced to try the sport, he gets expectedly wiped out much to his horror but the next thing he sees is a flash of white and a blaze of red and sudden warm lips covering his own. Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11772489
This is a bad idea.
That’s what Jon Targaryen thought before he was dragged into water skiing.
It was fine at first when it was him who was on the jetski, with his aunt Dany doing the skiing.
"I swear to the Seven if you don’t drive me, I will shave all your curls off Jaeharys!”
Oh yes, he could still remember the shrieking and glaring Dany gave him when he flat out refused.
He still refused.
It was the guilt that got him to agree.
His father was in lunch meeting because this was a working vacation while his prick of an uncle Viserys couldn’t be swayed because all he wanted to do was drink Mai Tais while Aegon was driving for Rhaenys using her cream colored jet ski, Viserion. So that really left him.
When Dany’s fuming and death threats didn’t work on Jon, she switched to another tactic. Emotional blackmail.
“Rhaenys is so lucky to have a supportive brother. Whereas I got stuck with two brothers who neglect me, one to his duty, one to his vanity,” she pouted, her purple eyes misting. “I just wanted to try out my new jet ski. I was so excited to test Drogon. But I guess it’s not meant to be.”
Jon swiped his hand over his face then and offered before Dany cries and he’d never hear the end of it from everyone. She was the darling dragon - the highly favored, the breaker of wills.
“Fine, but when I’m driving I’m using Rhaegal,” he grumbled. Making his way over to his green jetski.
Dany hugged him then and there they were.
It took some time but Jon figured out the true reason Rhaenys and Dany insisted on doing the skiing, performing tricks and all.
It was the lifeguard.
A tall guy with broad shoulders and red curly hair.