#Alfred Enoch fanfiction

[buttercream-princess]

Playing The Game

Summary: Y/K and Dean have been secretly enjoying a friends-with-benefits arrangement for some time now, relishing in the pleasure and excitement that it brings. But when Dean unexpectedly reveals his feelings about someone else while under the influence, Y/K is left reeling and wondering where their relationship truly stands. Y/K must decipher between her newfound emotions and unspoken desires what she really wants: lust or love?

Word Count: 9k

Warnings: Whole lotta’ ANGST, little bit of fluff, swearing, sexual objectification kink, SMUTTY AF, unprotected sex, quickie, public sex, unholy dirty talk, NSFW, interactive

DISCLAIMER: Every original Harry Potter characters in this story is 21+. My Hogwarts stories are always and only written as a university universe with grown ass characters.

Notes: This one has been sitting in the drafts for awhile. I’m thinking of turning it into a 5 part series because I’m too attached to this Dean at this point (Just like Y/K lol) - he’s so cheeky, I love it!

*Gifs and images were not created by and do not belong to me. All rights go to owners and creators!!

(Not edited | proof-read)

_______________________

You sleepily reach for your phone underneath your pillows and sit up against the bed frame. 

You check your notifications; still no text from Dean.

Tired and irritated, you let out a groan of frustration and slump back underneath your covers. All you could think was how much you missed him, it was an unfamiliar feeling borderlining on uncomfortable. You never ached for a response from him, since you always had access to him. You were each other's person, but that now seemed called off. It felt almost unfair how easily he was going on with life without you.

It was a long night of tossing and turning, you were unable to get any sleep. Once the birds began their routine songs at dawn, you knew there was no point in trying to get some shut eye, class begins in a few hours.

You couldn’t even think about studying today, you were bitter and strung up. It was all his fault. If he just reached out to you, that would’ve put your racing thoughts at bay. At this point, even an emoji text would’ve been fine. But no, he was radio silent.

Your argument aside, Dean ghosting you was so out of character for him. Dean always made sure to check in with you, you guys were basically joined at the hip. You and Dean have been good friends since your first week at Hogwarts University. You took up the Magical Fine Arts class as an elective in the 1st year. It was Dean who asked you to be his model for the end of year project, to which you agreed to and along the way, you found yourself spending more time with him than you were studying. Dean was funny, charming and adventurous, just your kind of fun. It seemed he had a strong liking for you too because over time, the two of you were inseparable; wherever you saw him, you were always by his side and vice versa. 

But over the last summer, your relationship with him developed into something more physical. It started platonic and friendly but as the semesters passed, your body couldn’t deny his sex appeal anymore. One night at your studio dorm after 2 and a half bottles of red wine, you were both wasted and bonding over your love of muggle music since the both of you were half-blood. That night you went from bestfriends to lovers in private and there was no looking back.

You both agreed to keep it under wraps in consideration of not rocking the boat that was your friend group with Blaise, Lee and Alicia. The odds of awkwardly tinting the group dynamic with your situationship was too much to take a chance on. So for the sake of secrecy, all emotions and entanglements was off the table. It kept your friendship balanced. It was simple and you liked it that way. 

As for Dean in the bedroom, he’s incredibly cocky and is well aware of the power he has over you. Although you’ve never casually talked about your attraction to him, he remembers every moan and moment of begging that left your mouth while he turned you out. He always finds a way to remind you just how needy you are for his dick. Most late nights you’d get a text from him, saying, “Can’t sleep. Come over.” and you already knew what time it was the second you got the notification.

Hooking up with him had become a weekly - almost daily ritual so you didn’t usually approach Dean for sex but by now it had been close to three weeks since your last conversation with him and you were almost feral for his face between your legs. He would never go this long without asking you to come over, it was so unlike him. 

There was once a whole month where you couldn’t get off eachother. You’d get a quickie in before and between classes, in any private room you could find in the castle. The astronomy tower, the room of requirement, the House Elves restroom. Even in Filch’s office once, which you left in absolute shambles, even staining his desk with dry cum - from the both of you. It was hysterical when he reported the scene in the great hall during dinner. You and Dean forced back fits of giggles with mouths full of food, knowing it was you two who defiled his office while everyone else in the hall was completely oblivious. Sneaking around with him had its benefits, one of them being you had a massive secret that only you and Dean shared, as if it was an inside joke that only you and your favorite person knew the origin of. You could call it special. Sure, hiding the truth sometimes felt like a burden but most times it felt electrifying.

While Dean was AWOL, something fierce was brewing in you this morning. You didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you were edging on desperation. You were fine with not hearing from him the first couple of days, you figured he was just busy. But once you saw him actively going out his way to dodge you, that was all your mind needed to start jumping to conclusions. 

Why was he ghosting you? Did he not wanna hook up anymore?  And if so, why? 

You blankly stare at your phone while your mind wanders off and pictures all kinds of scenarios for his weird behavior.

You recall the last time the two of you spoke, a late night from a few weeks ago….

________________________________________________________

3 Weeks Ago…

Everyone had just sat the OWLS exams and it was finally done with. This year's OWLS was making up for 40% for your final grade of the semester, the stakes were high. It even ripped Granger a new one. And if Miss Know It All is anxious about a test, you should be terrified. Which of course, everyone was.

Yet somehow you came out the other side of the exam alive, along with your friends, and what better way to celebrate the end of a stressful and anxiety producing test than to get absolutely wasted? 

That’s exactly what you and your friends did. Lee and Alicia went off to Hogsmeade bar to celebrate, but you, Dean and Blaise was too tired from a long day of studying to make the trek to town so the three of you shared a bottle of Don Julio in the Griffindor dorm kitchenette. The night was still young and you spent it vibing to music, taking shots and swapping scandalous stories that were only for your friends group ears. It was always good times when you linked with Thomas and Zabini, the three of you were the bestest of bestfriends. You all just naturally clicked with each other and could yarn for hours, which was something worth looking forward to in your day. The night was going good and your stomach was in pain from how much the boys made you laugh, but along the way, the three of you landed on a subject that would change the trajectory of your relationship with Dean…for the better and worse.

“Can we please talk about Fred and Angela? I’ma be all the way real, Fred is punching hardddd man.” Dean exclaims.

Blaise lets out an annoyed moan and perks up from the bench, throwing his hands in the air.

“Finally somebody fucking said it!”

You smirk and raise your glass. Angela Johnson is an etheric goddess walking amongst mere wizards and witches. And Fred is…well, he’s Fred Weasley. Nuff’ said.

“Right?! I’ll bloody drink to that.” You throw back the rest of your mug only to have a few drops hit your tongue. Time for a top up. You scoot off the kitchen top and walk to the fridge, getting some soda to mix with your tequila.

“Look, I love Fred. He’s my best mates brother, Maker bless Ron - the little shit. But how Fred even got a chance with Angie? That’s surely one of Hogwarts greatest mysteries and this school’s packing loads of them cunts.” Dean voices.

You chuckle while fixing yourself a drink, listening in on the boys being messy.

“I’m saying, like? He don’t even know what to do with that, he can’t handle all that.” Blaise says, reeking of jealousy. It was hilarious, you couldn’t hold back the giggles.

“No Weasley can handle a baddie, let alone a black goddess like Angela.” You chime in.

“Exactly. He needs to go for someone like Luna or Pansey, someone in his lane! No offense to them but that’s more Fred’s avenue. Not Angelina Johnson for Merlin's sake!”

You gasp, followed by a chortle. The gossiping behaviour between these two grown ass men was worse than you thought.

“Oh my god Blaise! I know you did not just say that! Not too much on Luna now, that’s my girl. I love that little weirdo.” You insert, jokingly death staring down Zabini. He stares back at you with knitted brows, challenging you. After a few seconds, he blinks and child-like laughter echoes throughout the kitchen from the three of you, laughing at the silly game.

Then Dean loudly clears his throat. 

“No but listen, on the topic of Angie…I mean, shiettt, put me in coach. I can handle that.” Dean lowly blurts amongst the laughing. 

Silence falls in the room, especially from you. You go mute, processing what he just said.

Blaise snorts.

“I mean you know what I mean? She need someone equipped for the job.” 

Blaise daps Dean up in agreement. Both the boys cackle.

Your eyes unintentionally squint and you clench your grip on the bottle of liquor, completely thrown off guard by Dean’s comment. He sure knew how to get a raise out of you. You could hear he was joking, but still, your body reacted on its own accord, knotting up your stomach. You loudly puff out a sigh and plop the bottle back on the bench with a bang. 

“Fuck, that was loud. My bad.” You stifly apologize. 

“You’re alright.” Dean replies.

“You were saying?” You ask, then clear your throat.

Of course you didn’t want him to. But a sabotaging part of you wanted to see how far he’d take it. 

“Look, Angela’s a ten outta ten. Peng as fuck, her body is crazy, and she’s got great banter. I’m first in line when she drops the dead weight that Fred is.”

Wow. He’s playing with fire. You couldn’t believe he’d froth over Angela like that right in front of you. It stinged to say the least.

The two boys cheer glasses and talk more about their thoughts on the couple.

You stir your drink, quietly wheezing to yourself hysterically. Nothing about what Dean said was funny to you, you just couldn’t believe the sheer audacity of him gawking over Angela whilst you were in the room, drunk or not. 

Dean glances over to you with the utmost cheeky smirk, cocking up a brow. He was doing it on purpose and it was some kind of emotional torture he wanted to commit to you.

Why was he doing it? What is he getting out of this shit? you thought.

A smug look was locked on his face as he listened to Blaise carry on, but his gaze was focused on you. He watched you closely, seeing if he’d you’d give him any reaction at all, all while stifling back chuckles. Your silent rage of envy was amusing to him it seemed.

As Dean's eyes lingers on you, you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and anger. You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself. You remind yourself that this is just Dean being his usual flirtatious self and that he probably didn't mean anything by it. But it still hurts and there was no refusing that.

You take a long sip of your drink, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tension in the air. Soon the boys stop talking and you can feel Blaise and Dean's eyes on you, waiting for a response. But you don't give them the satisfaction. Instead, you change the subject.

"Talking about the Twins, did you guys hear about the prank that the twins pulled on Filch last week? Filch went off his head, it was hilarious!"

Blaise and Dean both laugh, relieved that the tension has been broken. They eagerly listen as you recount the details of the prank, and soon enough, everyone is laughing and joking again.

The rest of the night you barely spoke. You chuckled here and there, showing face in front of Blaise. But you were distracted, lost in intrusive thoughts. You couldn’t shake off Dean’s opinions about Angela. You were salty as fuck, so by the time it hit 2AM, you bowed out. 

“As much as I’d love to stay up with you guys, I need to sleep. OWLS kicked my ass. I will see you wonderful people tomorrow.” You slide off the bench and grab the Tequila.

“Yeah shit, it’s almost 3. I’ll head too.” Dean checks his phone and stands up.

“Fair. But first, cuddle before bedtime.” Blaise drunkenly pulls you into a tight hug and pecks the top of your head. Blaise is the biggest softy, you had no idea how he was sorted into Slytherin.

“Okayyy mummy. Night Blaisey. Love ya” You tease, squeezing your arms around him.

“Night bub. Love you too.”

You pull away and head for the dorm hallway. The two boys hang back and say their goodbyes. You soon hear Dean catch up behind you, following you to the dorms. It was a quiet stroll to the rooms. There were many things you wanted to say but your pride had a tight muzzle on your mouth.

Dean breaks the silence, “He’s a good one, that Blaise.”

“Yeah, he’s the best. Love him.”

The rest of the way to your room was silent. You pass the corridor to the men’s dorm but he stays on your route, following you to the women's dorms.

You scoff. 

If he thinks he’s getting some tonight, he’s got you all the way fucked up. You don’t mention him following you though, you figured you’d pop off at him in the room. And boy, was he in for a storm.

Dean laughs, catching your attitude. But he doesn’t say a word because he knew you wouldn't turn him away, you never do. Usual overconfident Dean behavior.

You were steaming all the way up to your door. Your blood wasn’t boiling, it was burning. You were contemplating blowing your cool and letting him have it right now and here out in the hallway. You couldn’t understand in the moment why he had you so vexed over banter but you didn’t care, you were hurting and he needed to know. But instead of blowing up on him, you decided silence was the best treatment to handle Thomas. 

You huff back the emotions that were flooding to the surface, your face was heating up with rage - tears were sure to follow soon. You just needed to get inside your room before you let it all out. 

You take your keys out of your jeans pocket to unlock the door and place the key to the hole but it doesn't budge. Your hands were shaking and you were on the verge of crying out of pure frustration. You already had a mountain of unexplainable feelings that was rocking your shit, this stupid key was just the cherry on top. Pursing your lips together, you swallow back the rogue wave emotions on your heart while staying faced to the door. You couldn’t let Dean see just how miserable you were over something so minor and stupid.

He closes in behind you. The warmth of his breath tickles your skin as he bends down and leans his chin in the crook of your neck. 

“Give it here you goose.” He chuckles.

Taking the keys out of your hands, he unlocks and opens the door on the first try. You grumble cuss words under your breath. Even when helping you, you couldn’t stand him. Not right now, everything he did irked your soul. 

You step into the apartment and head straight to your kitchen cabinet. There was a heavy weight of feelings on your chest and drinking it away was the only option. Yes, you were already drunk, but definitely not drunk enough to forget how crossed up he has you.

You slam open the kitchen cupboard door, grabbing the biggest cup you own and quickly fill it up with the Tequila in your other hand. Dean closes the door behind him and walks over to you.

“Woah there, fairy. I think the only thing you need to be drinking right now is water.”

He grabs the bottle and glass out of your hand, chucks the alcohol in your cup down the kitchen sink and fills it with water from the sink.

“Oh, so now you know what I need?”

He turns his head to you, furrowed in brows and squints his eyes. He studies your face, the way he looks at you makes you feel exposed. He knew what you were poking at, he could read every subliminal between your words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want you to wake up with a hangover in the morning.”

A soft friendly smile forms on his lips, which only riles you up more. Can he not read the fucking room? 

“Yeah well, maybe I like waking up with hangovers.”

He snorts and turns off the tap, walking back over to you with the glass of water.

“Maybe you do. Looks like I’m learning something new about you everyday, beautiful. Drink this.”

You place your hand on your hip and stare back at him blank in the face. You weren't doing anything he wanted you to do.

“No, you drink it. And choke for all I care.”

You turn on your heels and head to the bathroom with the bottle of Don Julio still in your hand. He chortles, amused.

“Only if you’re the one doing the choking, baby.” 

You grunt at his chirpy attitude, absolutely done with how witty he is. Usually you like it, he always says the right things to make you swoon over him, but now it was just ammo to get under your skin.

You turn on the showers, letting it run hot to steam up the room. As you undressed, you couldn’t help but feel stupid for letting Dean get to you. You take a gulp from the bottle.

With every clothing piece you took off, memories of him kissing that part of your body flooded your mind, accompanied by visuals of him doing that to Angela. It was tormenting. You take another sip from the bottle.

You step under the streaming water, letting it wash over your face. Finally, the tears fall. It felt good. You knew you were crying over something so silly but you didn’t want to compartmentalise, the only way you were getting through this was by letting yourself have a sook and feel everything, something you never did when it came to Dean. Feeling anything emotional towards Dean was something you put off limits from the beginning of your situationship with him, it kept your feelings safe in case things got ugly between you two. But now you were feeling the burn of setting that rule in the first place.

As you stood under the hot water, you let your mind wander. You thought about everything that had led up to this moment. You thought about how you and Thomas had started off as friends, and how things had escalated so quickly. You thought about the passion and the intensity that you had shared, and how it had felt like nothing could ever come between the two of you.

But now, as you stood there alone, you realized that things were different. You couldn't ignore the fact that Thomas had been with other people and could be hooking up with other girls right at this moment, and that he might not have been as committed to you as you had thought, even if it was just friends with benefits. You couldn't ignore the feeling of betrayal that had been gnawing at your heart since you had found out how he felt about Angela.

When you began hooking up with Dean, you had no idea it would cause so much pent up frustration and desire in your body. Sex would help release this energy from the system, but there was an emotional side to things that had you questioning everything. Surely after some time, you began to ask yourself:

“Do I have feelings for Dean?”

Just hearing those words in your thoughts made you angry.

“Fuck!” You yell, “What is wrong with you?!” you ask yourself in frustration.

How could you let it get this far? How could you let Dean work his natural love potion on you? You thought you were better than this. Better than all the other girls who fell for his stupid addictive charm.

Three knocks tap on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay?” Dean asks, concern in his voice.

“Yes.” You sniffle.

You see him in the reflection of the bathroom glass, taking off his clothes and shoes, all he was left in was a singlet and boxers. He walks towards you and opens the shower door and leans his arm up against the shower frame. You face towards the shower head, not giving him any form of attention.

“The waters getting out.” You protest.

“I don’t care. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Hmmm.”

He pulls his singlet over his head, tossing it aside and kicks off his briefs, stepping into the shower and closing the door.

Tears were still streaming from your eyes, you stood underneath the flush of the water. You didn’t want to let him see you in tears. A few painful minutes go by and you hesitate to tell him off. Although you were mad with him, you loved sharing showers with him, it was one of the few intimate things that you did with him that wasn’t sex.

You sniffle and clear your croaky throat, it was a dead giveaway.

Dean steps closer under the water, saying a wandless spell to the soap, which placed a dollop of cleanser in his hands. He places both hands on your shoulders, lathering up and covering every inch of your body with the suds.

Dean dials down the water temperature and makes it a sweet warm stream and sways you by your waist from under the water. 

He was smooth, even in instances like this. He didn’t need to use spells or charms, he just intuitively had a way with you that always got to your core. He observes you, adjusts his approach and works his magic on you. 

“Y’know,” He pulls the hair in front of your face behind your neck and plants a soft kiss on your shoulder, “You’re allowed to tell me when I fuck up.”

“Huh?”

“I know I said something that made you uncomfortable, you can tell me.”

You turn your head to look at him, surprised by his admission. He was usually so confident and self-assured, it was refreshing to see him vulnerable like this.

“I just don’t know what to say,” you admit, feeling ashamed of your own emotions.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he reassures you, “We both can just be silent for all I care. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, always.”

He leans in and kisses you gently on the lips, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. For a moment, you allow yourself to be held, to feel safe in his arms. But then reality hits you like a ton of bricks.

You push him away, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the small shower space.

“No, you’re not here for me. That’s not what it felt like when we were with Blaise,” you accuse him, the anger rising up in your voice, “You just want to keep me around for when you’re bored or lonely. You don’t actually care about me.” you exclaim, accidentally revealing your resentment.

Dean looks hurt by your words, but he doesn’t back down.

His hand slides up from your thighs to your waist.

“I knew something was wrong. You don’t have to act with me. Just tell me what I did.” He calmly says.

His touch goes over your stomach, just above your nether regions, but he doesn’t go further, Dean knew to be gentle with you in the moment.

“Forget it. I’m just trying to shower.” You say, pulling away from his grasp, retreating back to icing him out

He goes to speak but he pauses, you could see on his face that he was calculating his next words. Lost in his thoughts, he says a spell to the body wash again and goes over his body.

You lean against the shower wall, arms crossed, bottle still in hand and looking up to the ceiling. Tears still falling from your eyes disguised as droplets of shower water.

Dean grabs the bottle from your hold and pulls you into the water with him, tilting your head up to his.

“I wasn’t born yesterday and I know you weren't either, so there’s no point in either of us playing dumb. I’m sorry– please believe me.”

You clench your jaw.

“About what?”

“What I said about Angela. It was stupid. I only said it to get a rise out of you.”

Is this shit a game to him? Your emotions just a ploy for him. And for what? Just so he can feel better about himself? You wanted to hear an apology from him but you didn’t expect it to come with the harsh reality of the situation.

“You’re right, it was stupid. I don’t care though.” You lie through gritted teeth, “What does it matter? You were only speaking your truth.”

“That’s the thing. I wasn't. I was saying all that shit just to get a reaction outta’ you and it was beyond wrong to do that. You don’t deserve that.”

You meet his eyes, he looks completely sincere and open but you quickly look away, feeling a small sob build at the bottom of your throat. The liquor had taken over your emotions and was ready to let it all pour out.

“Why Dean? What's the point?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought if I said that, you would’ve said something, anything. Maybe I just wanted to hear you claim m—”

“No, Dean. You didn’t hear me. What’s the point of us?”

He stares into both of your eyes, trying to figure you out. Under his gaze, usually you would melt but right now, all you felt was a sense of grief. 

“Right…oh, righttt.” He sternly responds.

He loosens his grip on you and tilts his head, squinting his eyes and licks his bottom lip, a grim smile forms on his lips as he starts to sarcastically laugh. 

“Oh. Message received.”

He leans down and places his lips on your forehead, chuckling against your skin while giving you a kiss then exiting the shower, taking no time to dry himself with the towel from the rack. 

“When you’re done with whatever this is, let me know.”

You stand there, feeling a mix of confusion, anger, and desire all at once. You can hear the sound of the bathroom door closing as Dean leaves, and you're left alone in the shower, still processing everything that just happened.

You take a deep breath and turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the rack. You take one last chug of tequila before placing it on the sink. As you dry yourself off, you can't help but feel disappointment. You didn’t know what you wanted. You were torn between giving him the cold shoulder, letting him feel your anger or to give in, let him right his wrongs and lay up in his arms where you wanted to be. 

You swipe your hand across the foggy mirror above the bathroom sink and look back at your reflection, red eyes and puffy eyelids from crying. You knew what the reasonable thing to do was but somewhere deep down, you knew this was an internal issue. You longed to be consistently chosen, whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was an inner turmoil that you had and Dean just happened to be the person who you wanted to act on it. It was unfair to him to put him in such a position without him knowing, but you wanted him to just know what you wanted and to provide it instantly. It was selfish of you but you couldn't help it.

The bitter truth stands - he’s wasn’t your boyfriend, you weren’t in a relationship with him and he wasn’t officially yours. How could you possibly ask him to do boyfriend things without actually being your man. Which posed the next question:

“Do I want to be Dean’s girlfriend?”

You wince again at the intimate ideas flooding in. But the wonder stayed with you this time, replaying back memories in your mind of Dean’s beautiful smile before he laces you with kisses all over your face. You wanted that, all the time. You wanted him all the time.

You finish drying off and walk to the bedroom, still lost in your thoughts. As you approach the bedroom door you see Dean sitting on the edge of your bed, scrolling through his phone.

He looks up as you enter the room, and his expression softens. "Hey," he says, patting the seat next to him. "Come sit."

You hesitate for a moment before taking a seat next to him. He puts his arm around you and pulls you close, and you feel a sudden rush of warmth.

"I'm sorry for how I acted in the shower. Actually I’m sorry for everything," he says, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to upset you, I was acting out of line this whole night. I just wanted to make things right."

You turn to look at him, and his eyes meet yours. You can see the honesty in his stare, and you feel yourself start to soften. Just as you open your mouth to apologize, he speaks.

“And look, if you don’t want to be around me right now, I understand. I’ll leave-”

He goes to stand up but you pull him by the hem of his shirt. By now you were more wasted than you anticipated and didn't want to be alone with your intrusive thoughts.

“No. Stay.” You slur out.

Relieved, he sits back down and looks at you in silence for a few moments, a flicker in his eyes.

“God, look at you. You’re so cute.” 

He squeezes your cheeks between his hands once before getting up from your bed and walking towards your drawers, opening them and shuffling clothes around. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pyjamas. It’s time you go to bed, you.”

You giggle burp. You didn’t want to go to sleep, you still wanted to talk about your feelings to him. But for some reason you found it endearing he wanted to put you to bed without sex being in the context.

Dean picks out a set of comfy clothes and walks back over to you.

“Up.” He orders you. Your towel drops to your feet and he fits your shirt over your head then continues to dress you in your clothes.

“Somni Modus (Bedtime mode).” Dean says a wandless spell which dims the lighting, lights the candles, puffs your pillows and pulls back your covers. You crawl to your side of the bed and Dean joins you on the other side, pulling the covers over you.

He leans on a pillow and props himself up on an elbow, facing you, watching your dizzy drunk self get comfortable in bed, cuddling a small pillow. He smiles, looking at you in awe. You roll over and feel the urge to pour your heart out to him, 

“I probably wouldn’t say this to you when I’m sober but I think I-”

He cuts you off.

"Darling, you’re way too intoxicated right now. I promise we can talk more when you’re in the right state of mind. Just come and find me, and I’ll listen, okay? But for now, you need some rest.”

You pout, slightly saddened. There were still some things you wanted to get off your chest. But you don’t argue with him, your eyelids was feeling heavy and the room was spinning the more you tried to stay awake.

Dean tucks you in and kisses your forehead, then heads towards the door.

As he's about to leave, you reach out and grab his hand. "Please don't go," you say, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

He pauses, then smiles softly and sits back down next to you, pulling you into a soft embrace. "I won't go anywhere," he says, stroking your hair, "I'll stay here with you until you fall asleep."

You feel a wave of gratitude wash over you, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

As you drift off to sleep, you realize that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay with him after all.

______________________

Currently…

That was the last you heard from Dean. Your memories of the night had a few blanks, considering how much you drank, though you definitely remember how you felt. You spent many days, wracking your brain over why the night panned out like that and why he would promise to listen to you if he was just gonna ignore you in the first place. 

You decided when you fully woke up, that was it. No more using your voluptas wand (Pleasure wand) and pretending it was Dean. You needed an explanation, a good fuck and to be on talking terms again and he was the only person who could give it to you. You flicked open his school schedule on your phone, which he had previously sent you so you would know his free periods for quickies or some head in the Elf janitor closet. You two were just that ravenous for each other.

You scrolled to his classes for the day and saw that he had a morning quidditch game against Slytherin. Dean had to be already up at the field, stretching and preparing for the match, he was an early bird. 

You stand up from your bed and commit to your decision. You take a brisk shower and dress for the occasion - not showing too much so it shows you mean business but leaving out a little skin for a subtle hint of slutty to show him what he's been missing. Perfect.

It was a cold lengthy walk down to the Quidditch field. No one was awake except for the winter birds, owls and the sun kissing the sky with orange hues. As you neared closer to the male Quidditch changing tent, you went over in your mind exactly what you were going to say to him.

“So, no text? No. That’s lame. Okay, so when were you gonna tell me we weren’t doing this anymore. Ew! that too mushy for 5AM in the morning ,Y/K.” You thought to yourself.

Every sentence that came to conception only made you sound needy and that you wanted him more than you were willing to let him know. But you missed him badly, and you wanted him again for crying out loud! it was the truth. Him finding this out was a risk you were gonna have to take.

You stop out the front of the tent opening and release a big heavy sigh.

“Here goes nothing.”

You lift up the material of the tents doors and see the man of the hour. Butterflies swarm your insides. This had to be the first time you’ve ever felt anxious around him.

“Dean?”

He pauses his stretching and turns around. His beautiful cinnamon brown eyes travel from your legs, up to your eyes. He starts walking over to you with rush in his step.

“Right, so I don’t what’s happening between us but I–”

“Well, look who decided to come around.” He finally speaks.

Dean grabs your face into the palm of his hands and pulls you into a haste kiss. His tongue took no time finding yours. The tense from your body drops as you find yourself seeping into his pull, right where you want to be.

The feel of lips and touch felt like feeding an addiction you’ve been weaned off for eons and you’re getting a much needed hit again. But you still had questions. You pull from his kiss and ask away.

“First of all, why didn’t you hit me up? And ignoring me?”

“I was waiting.”

“For?”

“For when you’d make the first move.”

Your mouth opens wide as it forms into a smirk. From the sounds of it, he wanted to be chased by you. So the man has emotional needs and wants besides getting a load off. Who knew? 

“Dean Thomas playing the waiting game? Seriously?”

“Oh shut up. I missed you.” he gives you another deep kiss then comes up, “That’s the last time I’m waiting for you to make the call. You almost drove me mad, woman.” his hands slides underneath your skirt and palms your ass cheek in his hand.

You press your body up against his, feeling his member already bricked up. And just like that, gasoline was thrown into the fiery tension between you two like it never left and it felt like pure electricity.

“Please tell me you didn’t jerk off. I want you at your best.”

“Like I said, I was waiting for you. Nothing can satisfy me the way you do.” He says, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bites.

You moan in response, feeling the heat rising between your legs. You pull him closer, your hands gripping his biceps tightly.

“We’re gonna need to have a serious talk but I need this first.” You breathe out as your hand slips down to his 9 inch member over his shorts while his hands explore your body.

“Of course. We can talk things over. Do me a favor first, pretty girl? bend over.” He takes your hand, spinning you around and positions you over the stacked bat trunk. You oblige to his request and bend over the case, exposing all of your sex to him.

Dean wastes no time, pulling up your skirt and pulling down your panties, revealing your wetness. He smirks at the sight, knowing he's the only one who can make you this soaked. He takes a moment to appreciate the view before teasingly running a finger over your folds, making you gasp.

“Please, Dean. Don't tease me. It’s been too long, I can’t wait anymore” You moan out, your body trembling with need.

He chuckles and slides a finger inside of you, pumping it slowly. He adds another finger, hitting all the right spots. He was pumping your pleasure button to new highs, making you buck back against his long strong fingers. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body starts to shake.

“Dean baby, I'm gonna cum.” You whimper out, unable to hold on any longer, and just before you feel the eruption of bliss, he pulls out.

He places a kiss on the back of your neck, “Wait for me baby. I know you miss it.”

And just like that, Dean’s Gryffindor jersey shorts and briefs drop to his ankles, you feel his member hot and hard rubbing against your ass cheeks. He takes his time and slides the tip down between your cheeks, against your asshole, to your hungry flesh. He pushes in slowly and immediately you feel the evidence of his absence. His size hurt like hell but it hurt so good, it already sent you over the edge into climax.

“You kept it nice and tight for me baby, hmmm?”

He dips in deeper, filling you up wholly, hitting your pleasure spot at the back of your pussy, driving you wild. You were gushing all over his dick yet as he pulls back, you feel the friction of your walls wrapped around him like a fitted glove, as if your pussy was designed just for him to fuck in.

He holds the hem of his shirt through his gritted teeth so it didn’t block the view. He wanted to see every motion of your needy cunt taking him whole. He paces himself while adjusting his tip at your entrance again. The tension and anticipation between the two of you was thick and vicious. Both of you knew what was about to go down, once he starts stroking, it’s game over for your precious walls. 

Leaning down to you, he grabs a heap of your hair and twirls it in a fist, pulling your head back so his cheek was gashing against yours while he busts his first thrust into you, making your body jerk in intense euphoria. He goes again and again, until he picks up a rhythm. Your bodies rub together in heated unison, stimulating your senses to the nastiest levels possible, as he shoves kisses to your mouth, sucking on your tongue and leaving sloppy kisses on your cheeks and ear, thirsting for your affection. With every stroke, you’re sent into an oblivion of pure ecstasy.

Muffled grunts and mumbles of pleasure was all you could hear. It was killing Dean not to talk his shit. He’s a vocal lover, he knew all the right things to say that would brings out the animalistic freak in you. But in this tent, soft moans and whispers was all he could give you.

You rock your core back against his length, making him damn near lose all control and grip your hips with a tight hook as if he was cautiously trying to steady you. Throwing it back on him was a dangerous game, the control you had over him in the moment was unbearable. He desperately slows down his rhythm, nears your ear and mutters through his breath, “Oh, so you wanna play like that, huh?”

A devilish smile grows on your lips and you catch your breath in the quick spell he’s giving your walls. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cluelessly respond.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

He pants on top of you, nestling his face in your hair, taking in your scent and licking up the droplets of sweat on your back.

“Two can play that game, sweetheart.” He mumbles into your skin.

 A half smile forms on his lips as he slams back into you. He chuckles as you begin to lose it under him again, the sight of your unraveling was pure entertainment for him. He was well aware of just how good he puts it on you.

He stands up and spreads your cheeks apart while observing the view.

“I love seeing your pretty pussy take this dick. Why’s that pussy so good, hmm?” He grunts out.

Dean halts and draws back so only the tip is in.

“I said, why is that pussy so good?” he squeezes your face between his hand and turns your head to him, making you look up at him in the eyes as he rams in and out of you, leaving you silently gasping for air. Rolls of the orgasms he gave you just moments ago were still coming over you.

“I think I need to fuck you before every match.” 

He picks his pace back up, filling you entirely. Bending down, his lips swipe across yours, teasing your desperate mouth.

“I bet you’d like that. Wouldn’t you? Tearing that pussy up every game.”

You look back to find his eyes piercing into yours as he strokes you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you: under him, stretched and slutted out. He was driving you insane.

You moan in response, feeling his wood flesh you out like there was no tomorrow. The idea of being fucked by him every match was both exhilarating and dangerous. You knew it would be hard to resist him before every match, knowing he had pent up aggression for the quidditch field. It was intimidating how easily he dominated you like this. But right now, all you could think about was how good it made you feel, being his little cum bucket.

“Yes,” you gasp out, “I want you to fuck me every game.”

“That’s what I like to hear. You always spread your legs for me like a good fucking whore, no matter the time or place.”

His features soften and his eyebrows furrow in. He closes his eyes and crashes lips to yours, groaning in your mouth. His strokes deepened inside you to the back of your walls, he wouldn’t dare to pull back a single inch, he wanted to feel all your tightness around him. You clench your pussy lips as he rests balls deep inside you, the pleasure mixing in the pain of his shaft hitting your cervix sent you over once more. You bend further across the trunk, trying to process all the sensations he was giving you, shying from his stroke.

Dean pulls you back, burrying his cock deeper than he was before. You whimper through another nut with teary eyes and slippery sweat all over your body. There wasn’t any words you could fathom that could explain the bliss he was fucking into you. 

“Don’t run, baby. Be a good girl, take it.” he whispers, watching your face go through levels of rapture.

He pauses and strokes one more time, steadying himself before giving you another row of toe curling plows. Retracting out and immediately ramming right back in. He continuously rips into you, not giving you a single moment to gather yourself. 

“Take it. Take all this fucking dick. I missed this pussy too much. I missed you so much baby!” 

His voice cracks into a deep tone, moaning out all his nasty thoughts to you, “You feel so good, you always do. My pretty little whore.”

And just like that, hearing him talk nasty to you sparks the freak in you to life. You start fucking him back, applying all the pressure to his cock.

“Yes baby. I’m a fucking whore. I’m your whore.” You screech out.

You were gone, completely lost in the heat of passion. Dean bought out filthy taboo in you that you didn’t even know had a place in your desires.

“Use me like a fucking toy. I’m just an object for your cum. Nut inside me.”

“Oh fuckkkk.”

His cum shoots against the back of your core. As much as he tried, he couldn’t hold back the roaring moan that left his mouth. You felt his load fill you to the brim as it oozed outside your slit and down the back of your thighs.

“Damn girl, what the…fuck. I haven’t nut that good in a minute…” He weakly pants, his body going limp against yours.

You tiredly chuckle, too exhausted to try to speak, basking in all the high sensations still running through your body.

He doesn’t pull out, he smiles and moves the strands of hair that were slicked against your face behind your ear.

“So that’s what you like? Being my toy?” He inquisitively mumbles between huffs, leaving soft pecks against your bare skin.

You freeze in embarrassment, wanting to hide from his grasp and gaze.

“Oh my g- I don’t even know why I said that. I say stupid shit when we fuck.”

“Well hold on now, who said it was stupid?”

You cover your face in embarrassment with your hand. Sure, the thought of him using you like a fleshlight is enough to make you cum from the thought alone but you couldn’t admit that to him, that was sensitive information for only you, your toys and your spank bank to know. Plus, it would only make him more arrogant knowing how much power play gets you off.

“If you’d allow it, I think you’d make a perfect beautiful tight toy for me.” He caresses your thigh,  soothing over the indented marks of his fingers from digging into your skin.

He brings your hands from your face as he hardens inside you, already ready to make a slut out of you again.

You gasp and look at him with widened eyes. “Already?” 

“Baby, you actually feel like heaven…can you blame me?” He tilts his head and smiles that cocky all knowing smile.

“You’re such a slut.” you laugh off.

“That makes two of us, sweetheart.”

He gives you a kiss accompanied by slow strokes. You coo from the soreness of your walls being worn out but you ached for another round, his sex was a pleasurable craving you would never get enough of.

From a far distance, you can hear a crowd of people chatting and laughing. 

“Fuck. Shit. What time is it?” Dean abruptly tugs his full length out of you, pulling up his shorts.

“I’m not sure? I lost track of time ages ago.” You frantically look around you and over the trunk for your underwear.

Dean helps you look around and remembers he put it in the pocket of his shorts when he was undressing you.

“I think you’ll be needing this.” 

He gets down on his knees and helps you put the panties back on, wiping his cum away from your thighs with a gym towel from the equipment basket. He slows his pace when he draws his touch up to your hips. You raise your brows, wondering why he stops rushing.

“Dean?”

He lays a kiss on you clit against the fabric and looks up at you with bright eyes and a smirk, caressing the back of your thigh.

“You free after the game? I have a feeling I’ll be needing to use my toy.”

“What? You ask now with people right outside? You know you can just text me after the game.”

He stands up and pulls you by your waist into him.

“I could, but I wanna hear you say it.”

He bites down on his bottom lips, waiting for the magic words. You antsily look at the exit of the tent, ready for players to start rolling in at any moment.

“Dean! They’re right outside.”

He raises his brows, not budging to let go of you. Either he didn’t give a fuck that anyone knew you were fucking or he was just that naturally bold and stubborn. You were sure it was the latter. Either way, you couldn’t resist his charm.

“Yes, I have a free period after your game to fuck.” You submit, coyly smiling and rolling your eyes.

Satisfied, he presses his lips against yours. “Good girl.”

“Okay, now I’m leaving.” you say against his kiss and step away to head for the exit.

“Yeah, get of here ya’ weirdo! Why are you in the male changing tents anyways? Pervert!” He exclaims loud enough for even the people outside to hear.

You halt and turn back at him in disbelief, breaking into laughter.

“You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”

“You love it.” He chuckles and gives your ass a quick slap.

You scoff. Before you could give a proper reply, the male cohort of the quidditch team enter into the tent.

“Morning Dean…and Y/K?” Ron approaches.

“Left my phone in the common room last night. Good thing Y/K is like totally obsessed with me and knew I had a game this morning.” Dean jokes, mimicking an American valley girl accent, “She came and dropped it off for me first thing.” he shoots you a wink as he makes the sneaky innuendo.

The balls on this guy. Unbelievable. You had to admit, it was fucking sexy though.

“Well that’s the last time I do that. I’ll just let the house elves take it to lost and found next time.”

He laughs. “That’s fair. Thanks anyways bro.”

Bro. Oh he’s really selling it, this guy needs an academy. You’re aware he’s only showing face but for crying out loud, it’s too soon, his cum is still warm inside you. No matter the fuss though, it’s him who’s gonna be moaning baby when you ride the brakes off him later.

You look once over at Ron then shoot Dean a thin lipped smile.

“Don’t mention it, bruv. Just focus on winning, we don’t need any more house points to Slytherin. Knock em’ dead.” 

His brow cocks up as he squints, catching all the shade you’re throwing his way. It was written all over his face, he didn’t like that. 

“Cheers.” Ron exclaims with a big grin.

You turn on your heels and make for the exit. The way you keep up antics to hide your affair in front of others was Oscar worthy at this point. Although it kept things on the hush-hush, it was exhausting. But my oh my, did Dean hate it. He was a poor example for a fuck buddy. He talked a good game but at the heart of it all, he was sensitive, needed reassurance from time to time and to be claimed out loud. If you knew what it would take for him to stop ignoring you, you would’ve acted on that weeks ago. At least that was the one thing you had over him, you knew Dean Thomas’s secret longing to be wanted and loved. 

As selfish as it was, now that you knew his little secret, you now have the upper hand over this situationship. He’s not the only king of hearts anymore; you’re right besides him, sitting pretty on the throne for the queen.

As you leave, you raise your skirt higher, leaving a little cheek out and sway your hips as you exit, giving Dean a cheeky tease. Just enough to make him stiff in his shorts and sexually frustrated. You glance back and see Dean adjusting and tucking away his wood. Laughter erupts from you as you walk out the tent, it was actually hilarious how easy you make him fold.

You were sure you’re gonna catch some heat for it later.

But now after this morning, you realized you like how vexed he gets from your stunts of the need for attention.

Well, solely because it makes him fuck you harder.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Also, in case anyone was wondering what the next Alfie release will be about. It's these gifs.⬇️

Any guesses as to context?👁️‍🗨️👁️‍🗨️🤭

[imthebadguyyy]

Hi! Does anyone know any writers who write fanfiction and reader insert stories for How to get away with murder characters ?? Connor Walsh, to be specific. If you do, please tag them below, or send me a msg.. thank you 💕💕💕

[motherfickle]

Okay so, final thoughts:

The entire final season was a hot mess that was not planned or written very well. They put off a ton of really important plot points until the last 3 episodes and that’s just... not how you write a satisfying final season.

Connor filing for divorce should have been cut from the episode. Yes, it gave weight to the shot of Connor and Oliver together at the funeral, but just letting their relationship survive Connor’s prison sentence would have given the audience the same catharsis. Connor actually filing for divorce was unnecessarily dramatic.

Bonnie and Frank’s deaths served no purpose beyond being a fake-out for Annalise’s death. I don’t know why that was their ending.

Having Alfred Enoch play Christoph felt really cheap to me. They had all of us questioning why the fuck Wes was at the funeral if he wasn’t going to be in any other episodes of the series, and for no good reason. They should have hired a different actor and let that shot be more of a “who is this” thing than a “did Wes fake his death” thing.

That said, I actually really like that Christoph ends up becoming Annalise’s protege. That felt like a really sweet, full circle moment, imo.

Kinda wish we’d gotten an answer about whether or not Coliver adopted kids like they talked about, but eh. I guess that’s what fanfiction exists for.

[politicalprocrastinator]

So I wrote a little drabble about what laurel does in the wake of wes’ death (or at least what I think should happen)

The Months After Fandoms: How to Get Away with Murder Teen And Up Audiences Major Character Death F/M Complete Work Tags: Major Character Death, Laurel Castillo/Wes Gibbins, Laurel Castillo, Wes Gibbins, Michaela Pratt, Annalise Keating, Pregnancy, Show Spoilers, Pete nowalk is cruel, Angst with a Happy Ending, One Shot Summary: Laurel searches for normality while trying to look after her impending baby.

She feels tiny. The weight of her body crushing round her heart is toxic and she knows she can't survive it. She just knows.

Until that dim flicker reignites. It presses right at the back of her skull and insists on recognition.

A baby. She's having a baby.

Every emotion feels false. She second guesses her reality, second guesses a mind drenched in sadness. It would make sense if it was just a dream.

At the three month scan she sees the child curl it's fingers into a fist. The doctor laughs at her questions and says she's seeing things but Laurel takes it as a sign. The baby's a fighter.

Just like his father.

Just like his mother. Sometimes.

As her steps become waddles Michaela becomes a more constant companion to steer her around. At five months she wins a maternity discrimination case and Annalise cries. In that moment Laurel realises her choice is simple.

Her dad gave her a blank cheque when he found out. She refused his warnings and false advice. It sat in a drawer for three months, tempting her into destruction but goading her with the life of her child.

The news is suffocating. For a brief moment Laurel wondered if she would want anyone to bring a child into all of this, regardless of their father's status. But she realises that she lives in a time of change, and it's change they shall get.

She sets up a pro-bono task force to work with undocumented immigrants in his name. When she hands Annalise her notice she elicits a genuine smile and a hug that struggles around her middle.

By the time her tiny little boy screams his way into the world, Laurel isn't happy yet. But with work, therapy, and maybe even people she dares to call friends, she might just be working on content.

He has his father's eyes. She gives him his father's name. It fits perfectly.

[lyricfrost13]

My AO3 Fics

Yup I write fanfiction in addition to the doodles I post on here a lot, so I’m going to start posting links to them here because that’s a thing people do.  If you’re a reader of my stuff, feel free to message me/send an ask!  If you message me just say in the first message that you’re a reader so I know where you’re coming from.  

If you don’t want to sift through this post, but want to follow me, here:

Haunted_Frost on AO3

Anyway! *tosses fic in the air* Catch!

Family and Dissociation from Awkward Situations

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types DCU Gotham (TV) Super Sons (Comics) Batman Beyond

Not Rated (but probably T at best) Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings;  Language: English. Words: 25,262. Chapters: 8/8. Minor or Background Relationships

 Characters: Bruce Wayne Jason Todd Dick Grayson Alfred Pennyworth Tim Drake Barbara Gordon Damian Wayne Duke Thomas Stephanie Brown Kate Kane Harper Row Cassandra Cain Minor Characters Original Characters Joker (DCU) Terry McGinnis Mar'i Grayson Jerome Valeska

Tags: Bat Family, Reconciliation, Family Feels, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Multiple, Not Beta Read, Catholic Character, Time Travel, Jason-Centric, Babysitting, Alternate Universe, Team as Family, Panic Attacks, News Media, Fluff and Humor, Some Plot

Jason's returned to Gotham to find things oddly different, but mostly the same. As he reacquaints himself with the Bats, and as they begin a new case or two, it might just turn out that the Red Hood belonged there all along. Reunions are uncomfortable, but sometimes they just might be worth it.

The Barnes Family Portrait

Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Captain America (Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)

Teen And Up Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, Part 1 of The White Wolf, Language: English. Words: 8,328.

Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes Steve Rogers Natasha Romanov Tony Stark Rebecca Barnes Proctor Scott Proctor (Marvel) Kimberly Proctor Howling Commandos Peggy Carter

Tags:  Alternate Universe Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Bucky Barnes Recovering Family Team as Family Art Artist Steve Rogers Avenger Bucky Barnes Reunions Identity Reveal Secret Identity Bucky Barnes Feels Bucky Barnes-centric Steve Rogers Feels

"I began by being perplexed about my body; and I ended by being anxious about my soul. In short, I wished to know what I was." -Adolphe Monod

Bucky Barnes wrenches control back with his own two hands, and so does Steve - they find each other anyway, because the whole Barnes family is built to last, and so are they.

All Go Bare and Live by the Air

Fandoms: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe

Mature, Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings, M/M,  Language: English. Words: 32,417. Chapters: 27/27

Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Peter Parker Wade Wilson Tony Stark Bruce Banner Steve Rogers Clint Barton Natasha Romanova Matt Murdock May Parker (Spider-Man) Rebecca Barnes Proctor Gwen Stacy Mary Jane Watson Harry Osborn Eleanor Camacho

Tags: Song Lyrics Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Slow Burn Knitting Wade Wilson Needs A Hug Peter Parker is an Avenger Avengers Family Fluff Panic Attacks Implied/Referenced Self-Harm Photographer Peter Parker Dadpool Implied Sexual Content Kidnapping Happy Ending

Each chapter accompanied by a verse from "Bedlam Boys"; this fic alternates between Peter and Wade as they recover themselves and find each other.

The Fighting and Most Sensible Brothers Black

Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Gen Complete Work  Language: English. Words: 3,173.

Characters: Regulus Black & Sirius Black Minor or Background Relationship(s) Sirius Black Regulus Black Walburga Black Orion Black Remus Lupin Harry Potter

Tags: Regulus Black Lives Sirius Black Lives Brotherly Love Marauders' Era Grimmauld Place Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix Animagus

Snippets of Sirius and Regulus growing up, growing apart, and growing together again.

Team Free Will

Fandoms: Supernatural

Mature No Archive Warnings Apply M/M, Other Complete Work  Language: English. Words: 21,808. Chapters: 16/16.

Characters: Gabriel/Sam Winchester Catiel/Dean Winchester Dean Winchester Sam Winchester Castiel Gabriel Charlie Bradbury Bobby Singer

Tags: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers Superhero Dean Superhero Sam Superhero Castiel Superhero Gabriel

In the cities of Crossroads, Garrison, Lawrence, and Palo Alto, four heroes have begun to work together against the crime organization, Hell. Locals aren't sure what to call the group-they run by their own rules, but get the job done.

The Hunter, who's famous for taking down a branch of Hell with just his gun, the legendary Colt at his side, is really just Dean Winchester, a mechanic trying to save the world. Legacy, the calm, collected man that can take out a criminal in a blink of an eye, is Sam Winchester, who just wants to prove that he isn't a freak, that he can do good in the world. Enoch-the silent, mysterious dark-winged angel that works part time for the Host, is Castiel Shurley, who is far more lost than he dares let anyone see. The Trickster left the Host and his Herald name behind, preferring to dish out justice as he saw it--Gabriel Shurley won't let his family make him choose a side again.

And when stirrings of Hell threaten the lives of those they love, nothing can stand in the way of Team Free Will.

Five Lights Rising

Fandoms: Supernatural

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply F/M, M/M. Part 1 of Five Lights. Language: English. Words: 46,832. Chapters: 32/32.

Characters:  Castiel/Dean Winchester Gabriel/Sam Winchester Adam Milligan/OFC Dean Winchester Sam Winchester Castiel Gabriel Original Female Character(s) Adam Milligan Amara  Chuck Shurley Crowley  Rowena MacLeod Original Male Character(s)

Tags: Season 11 au Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net Angel Dean Winchester Angel Sam Winchester Archangels Season/Series 11 Trials Hellhounds Time Travel prayers Archangel Sam Winchester Archangel Dean Winchester Happy Ending Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts Alternate Season/Series 11

Against the Darkness, the boys will need new and old allies to save the world again.

Faced with orders from a God who won't show his face, they will have to endure the Heavenly Trials, a series of tasks that will ensure they have the power to take down something as old as God himself.

Coming Back Again

Fandoms: Supernatural

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Gen Complete Work Part 2 of Five Lights. Language: English. Words: 5,872. 

Characters: Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael Minor or Background Relationship(s) Lucifer Michael Raphael Gabriel Sam Winchester Chuck Shurley 

Tags: Oneshot Archangel Gabriel Archangel Sam Winchester Human Lucifer Human Michael Human Raphael Vessels Time Travel Family Feels Brotherhood

Chuck decided, after the whole fiasco with Amara resurrecting his sons, that they deserved a human life. Gabriel's assignment, after running so far, was to stay close and protect his now-human brothers in the past.

Snippets of their lives come together, and they realize that no matter what, the universe seems to circle around back to them. 

[life-in-every-limb]

I’m excited to share that I was recently a guest on a podcast!  Lindsay Schlegel interviewed me for the last episode of the first season of Quote Me, in which guests discuss a favorite quotation and its impact on their lives.

My quotation was “Cast all your cares on God; that anchor holds.” It is from the poem Enoch Arden by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

That’s not where I first read it, though.  Listen to the podcast to learn more, but I’ll say this much:  it’s related to my obsession with The X-Files.  Once upon a time I wrote fanfiction, and the story I refer to in the podcast is right here, should you be interested.

I hope you will give my interview–and the rest of the season–a listen and let me know what you think!

The post Quote Me: Cast Your Cares on God appeared first on Life in Every Limb.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: A Little Fun With--- Alfie***

Words: 3.9k

Warning: Mild Cursing, NSFW, Fun, Crude Language, Mild C*m Play, Glove Free Lovin, Kink Talk/Play

Summary: Just a fictional assumption in a few categories of this beautiful man above. Of course, he's with you. So, self-insert. Yaay!

Note: So I am going to try something in sort of a headcanon format and see how it plays out. BTW this is how I write headcanons and it may be wrong. I don't care. I have a few of these for different celebs and characters I write for so look out for others. I've titled this the "A Little Fun With--- Series". Everything is standalone and each addition will be headlining someone new.

Note II: Stop by, tell me what you think. Is there a topic/category you would like me to add? I have a pretty big list already but lemme know I'm curious.

As always, thank you for reading!

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!❤❤

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

Sensitivity?

His body isn’t all that sensitive as a whole but there are definitely parts that are.

For instance, his ears are one of his erogenous zones that will begin getting him in the mood.

His neck is also pretty sensitive to little nips of the teeth and sucking.

However when you touch his legs that really gets him going especially rubbing his thigh slowly. Doesn’t matter where you are or what time it is, he is ready to pounce on you.

So of course it’s something you take advantage of every single opportunity you get.

At home watching movies for the night of course your hand misses the popcorn bowl resting on both your thighs and you lay your hand atop his knee. He is focused on the movie, but that Sagittarius brain can focus on a few things at a time and your hand on his knee is one of them.

You’ll keep it there for a few moments to avoid suspicion and just when you think he’s not expecting it you will slide your hand higher along his thigh taking in the lean and tight muscles there.

No matter how interesting the movie is, you have his full attention now and you being the master of seduction know just what to do with said attention.

When you’re with him as his date to the BAFTAs and you’re seated next to him with him paying close attention to the presenters and winners trying to absorb everything he can, again he is a Sag, you place your hand gently on the middle of his thigh. It automatically flexes as he’s so attuned to your touch.

He’ll return the favor and place a strong possessive hand on your thigh under the table making sure his long slender fingers grip your fleshy inner thigh.

You will then inch your hand higher and higher until you feel his eyes beaming a hole into the side of your head because he’s caught on to your plan.

“Be careful, darling, I am not so British that I won’t drag you into the nearest bathroom to have my way with you.” That is his only warning as he squeezes your thigh letting you know he means every word.

Yeah, our cutie is sensitive alright.

Favorite Part Of You?

Oh boy, he is a sucker for your gorgeous face in whatever form you put it.

Little to no makeup? Loves it. He’ll always be leaning into you to whisper in your ear; “You’re so gorgeous. How’d I get so lucky?”

Face beat to perfection? He’s completely heart eyes and refuses to not touch you while out together. Though he is not obsessively possessive, he does like to stake his claim.

If you get too much male attention it doesn’t make him insecure though. He’s pretty secure in the fact that he knows you’re his.

Alfie is also a sucker for a great pair of legs. They don’t have to be long and lean. He just loves nice legs.

Moisturized, glistening, slim, doesn’t matter. However, he thoroughly believes thick thighs save lives.

Just as you know thigh touching turns him on and will do it just for the fuck of it, he will grab your thighs or feel on your legs just for the fuck of it too.

You could be out together in broad daylight in the middle of the park having a picnic and he’ll grab you by your thighs and pull you to him keeping his large hands on them. It’s his world.

Sitting taking a coffee or hot chocolate break while shopping in winter? Your thighs are the best spot for his hands to warm up and he’ll often push them through your crossed legs not caring who sees it.

Hips. Good heavens. The number of times his hands will grip your hips says more about him than you. He loves a set of great hips. He’s practically obsessed.

 You will often watch as his eyes are glued to your hips when you reveal your lingerie for the night. You’ll peel it off torturously slow just to rile him up and make sure your hips are the very last thing you reveal.

“Bloody hell, love. I’m so hard for you. C’mere.” His voice is deep, accent thick, eyes hooded, and mouth half open.

His hands are on your hips before you even take two steps toward him.

The next morning, you wake up with plenty of marks along your thighs and hips, all his tokens of absolute loyalty to you.

This is a man who knows what he likes and takes it without fear. Sag is the Ram after all.

Bottom Or Top?

Depends on what his mood calls for. There are times when he loves and cannot say no to you on top so he can not only sit back and enjoy the sensations but also enjoy the show. Remember Sag is like a sponge they can soak multiple things up at once.

These times he finds himself getting lost in the roll of your body as you rock back and forth on him. He’s been known to get so enthralled with watching you that his pleasure increases tenfold and inevitably he cums sooner than expected.

Don’t fret that doesn’t mean he’s done though. Multiple rounds are a common thing in your house and because you know what buttons to push when you’re on top you like to see how long he’ll last.

“It’s all fun and games until 9 months from now you’re holding someone with my eyes, pretty girl.”

He thinks that’s a threat to you, but it only makes you more brazen and when you get wild like that it only fuels him to be freakier.

A lot of times Alfie likes to be on top, it doesn’t matter the particular position at all. If he’s on top, he’s plowing you raw no in between.

On top with you on your back? Fuck yes, he loves to watch the faces you make as he fills you to the hilt. He particularly loves it when your eyes roll to the back of your head in different directions.

On top with you on your knees? Say less. Backshots give him the chance to grip as tight as he wants to those hips of yours while watching your ass wave with each and every thrust.

“Your tight little cunt loves my cock, I can tell by how she squeezes me, love.”

Mans is just super obsessed with every inch of you.

Self-Lovin or No Self Lovin?

When you’re away or he’s away, Alfie is pretty restrained and able to push off the need for physical gratification for a good length of time. He’ll distract himself with other things like work, or reading, exploring, and things of that sort.

Before you he’d been known to go months and months without needing to hook up with anyone, and maybe 2 months without needing to jerk off. Since you, it’s a slightly different story.

If either of you are out of town it’s a nightly occurrence while you’re on video call with one another. It’s never planned or anything, it just always happens because he sees you, hears your voice and he wants you.

In the middle of him asking you about your day and you giving a detailed rundown you’ll notice his hand disappear and when you bring it to his attention he’ll give you that amazing double cheek dimpled grin that screams shy innocent schoolboy who’s just been caught doing something naughty.

“I’m sorry love, I didn’t even realize it. I was just listening to your voice, and I wanted you.”

“My voice? So you don’t even need to see any skin anymore?”

Hearing the tease in your voice he’ll begin openly stroking himself drawing your eyes to the motions of his large hand.

“Damn, I wish it was your hand.”

Seeing how tightly he’s gripping himself you take it as your cue to tempt him further. You’ll lower your robe so he sees your bare breasts then cup them so he can imagine his cock right between them.

"Fucking—so beautiful, love.”

It doesn’t take him long from there. His pants and whimpers fill the room as his hand jerks his cock faster and faster. You watch him come undone shooting stream after stream onto his bare abdomen.

If you’re together the only time he is jerking off is if you’re not feeling well enough to please him and if that happens he’ll go to take a shower, come back, and be back in control.

Again, a Sag through and through.

Quick Release or Duracell Battery?

Neither and both, if that makes sense. Remember how he is completely at your disposal because he’s so head over heels? You are his weakness so some nights and some positions he’s done in fifteen minutes but will re-up for round 2 of 10. Better believe that those 15 minutes will leave you hoarse and breathless though.

Alfie taps your ass as your face is down in the pillow still trying to catch your breath. “Come back here.”

“Wait baby, I need a minute.”

“You had two. I’m sure you have at least 4 more in you.” He’s tapping your ass again before he manually rises your hips bringing your ass up to him. Your face remains in the pillow.

“Mmm, such a gorgeous bum!” Alfie drops a heavy hand across it making you whimper and turn your head to the side.

“Don’t whimper love, I’ll give you what you want.”

Seconds later you’re feeling his lips between your legs bringing you back to life and just like that the start bell has rung for round 2.

Usually, you’re the one tapping out long before he’s fully satiated.

Lingerie or Costumes?

Oh, Alfie is all about the lingerie.

He thinks is versatile and can even serve as a costume.

He loves to just watch you walk around the house in loungewear that looks like lingerie. It’s become so normal that you don’t notice the way he watches you, but he notices you every time you are wearing something he likes.

So what does he like? It depends. If you’re lounging around the house he prefers sweet and innocent things with hints of sexiness.

Lace and frill usually always get his attention. Maybe it’s a sensory thing and Sags always using all their senses.

You’ll be cooking dinner in a cute but sexy matching two-piece set that is see-through showing him hints and peeks of your luscious skin and he’ll forget about whatever he’s doing and do it in the kitchen while you cook. He’s not there to keep you company, he’s there to be a perv and watch you lean over, bend over, squat down, reach high, and get splashes of water on yourself.

He thinks you don’t know but you do. Hello, no one needs to bend over to their toes to look inside the dishwasher every 5 or so minutes. No one.

If it’s a night of fun he likes things a lot sexier and more sensual.

Is it tight and fitted across your body? Good.

Does it showcase your killer curves and amazing assets? Thank heavens.

Is it in his favorite color or turquoise? Yes, please.

Is it strappy or has multiple pieces? Send—help!

The second he sees you in any of these you know he’ll control himself until the very last moment but be tortured the entire time.

He likes to watch your body move in it, likes to see you bend over for him. He’s known to snap straps against your skin because he likes the sound it makes.

For Alfie, lingerie is like an hors ‘d oeu vres before the appetizer and he loves to take part.

Quiet or Moaner?

This man is a moan stifler. He wants you to know how good you’re making him feel but in the same breath, he doesn’t want you to know because he knows you’ll just take the opportunity to go berserk on him.

Alfie will moan, pant, whisper your name and even grunt out explicatives letting his accent come through sporadically. Usually, he chooses other ways to let you know that you’re fucking him good.

His hands will roam and grip you never staying in one place too long.

The tighter his grip the more your kitty kat has him at dangerous levels of losing his shit.

However, he can try to remain as tight-lipped as he wants because when you hear him suck in a breath as if he’s just touched a hot pot and feels the instant pain you know you have him.

The sound is his tell and you’ve never told him that you know it.

You’re bouncing on top of him, back and body arched backward, hands planted just atop his knees with your head held back enjoying every sensation of his long shaft hitting you right where you want it.

When you begin grinding your hips that’s when you hear it; the sound is followed by a guttural but half-stifled groan. A mischievous smirk spreads your face as you up the ante and clench around him. That’s when you hear his whimper. The whimper of a man who has just let it slip that he’s begging you for mercy.

However, there is no mercy here. You won’t be satisfied until he’s shouting your name. It doesn’t take long before you finally hear it.

“Aah, yes, yes, baby, yes Y/N.” Each word is slightly higher pitched than the last. Alfie moans ending on a whimper as you milk him dry.

Try as he may, quiet is not an option with you.

Eater or Naw? Eating Style?

Wow, wow, wow! First of all, Sag loves oral pleasure. Receiving! Giving! He loves it and is in it to win it until you scream from it! And scream from it you do—on a daily.

Alfie loves to torture you with it too. He loves to go excruciatingly slow as if he is repainting the Mona Lisa with his tongue on your kat.

Eating you is no quick affair for him. It is not a spread, lick and done. It is an event, thee entire meal and adventure and he treats it like your pleasure is the most important thing to him. Bless his heart.

He’ll torture you with teasing licks, kisses, and nibbles across your inner thighs (the ones he loves so much).

Then he’ll pepper kisses across your cunt being sure to tell you just what he thinks of it.

“Such a pretty little cunt you have love.”

When he starts to use his tongue you’re soaking wet and shaking from anticipation. Just the way he likes you.

He doesn’t go for your clit like you want he traces your lips then frustrates you when he kisses your inner thighs again.

“For fuck’s sake put your lips on my pussy, now!”

Of course, he loves when you go feral, but he isn’t a cruel man. Once you’ve reached that point he shows some mercy and gives you what you want.

However, once you’ve cum all over his mouth he doesn’t stop. It’s his mission to make you cum again and again and get you to the point where you are begging him to fuck you from how sensitive you are.

His response to how much of a mess he’s made you?

“All you had to do was ask, love.”

The man gets a gold medal and an A in the sport.

Any Kinks?

DTF. DTF. DTF. Simply put? The man is down to fuck and explore any kink once. He is a man who likes to read, research and believes you never stop learning and likes to be well-rounded.

Don’t let his innocent face fool you. He can get into some wild stuff given the chance and the right partner. He believes pleasure is a good thing and everyone deserves it.

Since he is spontaneous his kinks can come out of nowhere.

You’re sitting in the park late at night enjoying the skyline view and he’s directing your hand to his crotch.

You’ll protest from shock of course. “We’re in the open.”

“So. No one is even here. Sit on my lap.”

You’ll look next to you a few feet away and see another couple sitting just like you watching the skyline. You’re thinking either he’s blind or insane. That’s when he’ll whisper in your ear.

“I want to make you cum right here, right now.”

You are wide-eyed and unsure of what has come over him. You try to convince him that they’ll hear you if he does that. His slow wicked smirk comes next.

“I know princess. I want them to hear you and know what we’re doing. I want them to know how well I’m fucking you. Now sit on my lap.”

Impossibly possible he’s made you soaking wet just from that sentence alone and sure enough in no time at all he’s making you cum as you screech his name through your clenched jaws and he’s staring right at the couple who has given you their undivided attention.

The man has no shame.

It’s a common practice for Alfie to whip out the cuffs or the rope to tie you to something because he loves being in control and seeing you tied up unable to move while he has free rein over your body and every aspect of your pleasure makes him harder than fire blown glass.

The night he surprised you with a brand-new sex swing was an unforgettable night that left you voiceless for two days.

Then the night he sat back and watched another man shamelessly flirt with you also was in your top unforgettable nights. It ended up with him pulling you into a dark corner and fucking you up against a wall with his hand around your throat. It was the night you realized your kinks aligned.

You went home and played around with a dom and sub scenario that even included him playing the sub once.

His freak flag flies high as well as his kink flag.

Where Does He Put It?

Since the 2nd-ish month of your relationship, you haven’t worn any condoms.

After you’d both been honest with each other about your pasts, been vulnerable with one another to declare your true intentions with one another, and gotten tested then there was really no reason in either of your minds.

You’d always been on BC for better menstrual management and that was now your primary means of protection.

So, Alfie is usually always finishing right where he likes—inside of you.

The first time he did it with your permission you noticed how much he’d cum. Then you noticed how mesmerized he was by it.

He was transfixed with thrusting in and out of you slowly to see his seed slowly seep out as he withdrew.

“Shiiit, that’s so hot.”

He’d continue dipping in and out of you while watching your combined fluids interact.

When he changed up and slammed into you and his cum dribbled out of you he would groan.

“Fuck, you look so good with me dripping out of you, love.”

The moment you realized he had some kink and was probably into cum play was when he pulled out and used his well-lubricated cock to flick across your swollen bud while painting himself all over your mound.

“It’s all mine. I marked it!”

How creative, right?

Piercings/Tats?

The only piercing he has is a small nose one from his younger years.

That doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t have gotten more if he wasn’t an actor.

You’ve openly discussed something small that the two of you could tattoo as a symbol of your love and loyalty to one another plenty of times and he is the one who shows more and more interest with every conversation.

“Would you put my name—right—there?”

Alfie is kneeling between your thighs with one of your legs arched atop his shoulder and the other relaxed back on the mattress. You are bare for his eyes. It’s a question that comes out of nowhere just as the ‘thwack’ of his long cock on top of your pubis comes out of nowhere.

“Why, you want to tag me up?”

Alfie’s smile is wide. He thrusts his hips forward and back in a slow motion that sends his shaft rubbing against your clit. “Hm, wanna see your name across this pussy, baby?”

That smile only gets wider and more dangerous and again out of nowhere he connects your bodies in one powerful buck of his hips. The stroke sends your head back into the pillow as you press your palm to his defined abs.

“Shit baby. Mmm!”

You quickly get lost in the pleasure he’s giving you and long moments pass before your eyes meet his again. You drop your hand and wrap it around his shift squeezing.

Alfie’s groan is strained but his thrusts remain relentless. Tightening your grip, your hand serves a similar purpose to a cock ring and the increased sensations make his hips stagger.

“You gonna put my name on this long dick babe? Gonna let me tag you up so it’s obvious that you have no future without me?”

A literal growl slips from his lips and in seconds he’s pressed your thighs wide and to the mattress. Beast mode initiated.

Yeah, tattoos could be fun.

Post-Coital Cuddler or Knocked Out?

Definitely into post-sex cuddles.

The usual positioning is you colliding into his side and laying your head on his shoulder.

He’ll instinctively wrap his arms around you cocooning you in his embrace.

It’s a good position because within minutes if the two of you are totally spent you’re fast asleep.

If not it leads to some silly post-sex teasing.

“Tell me again who was whimpering my name telling me to slow down?”

His Sag confidence is always coming out.

“I guess I learned how to whimper from the king of whimpering. Who is it that whimpers the most when they’re inside me?”

The teasing is fun and usually leads to another round where you’re silly together and laugh the entire time.

If on rare occasions there Alfie does knock out it’s when you’re on top and in your ‘finish him’ mood and show the fuck off. Those are the times you drain him ruthlessly without giving him any chance of recovery.

“Y/N, wait. Hang on.”

You’ll put his hands on your hips. “You can hang on to these 'cause I’m not stopping.”

The way he arches back and squeezes your hip you know he’s overstimulated. Still, you continue grinding your hips on him.

Even when you see the veins in his neck pop out you continue. It doesn’t take him long to rise to the occasion again.

After, in under 5 minutes he’ll be knocked out. It always leaves you proud as hell repeating Nicki Minaj’s lyrics. “Pussy put his ass to sleep now he callin’ me Nyquil.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanna be tagged in the series? Lemme know. Send an ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: 3 Days, 4 Nights: Day One {Three Shot}

Title: 3 Days, 4 Nights: Day One {1}

Alfie Enoch x Reader

Warning: Mild Cursing, Plot

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: You’re getting ready to start filming your latest project, the much-anticipated remake of “The Blue Lagoon” but because you’ve been hustling so hard, you’ve taken a much-needed vacation to recharge and cut loose. The vacation package brochure said, “Come to Brazil the land of beautiful people, beautiful beaches, and captivating architecture and experience all the country has to offer, we guarantee an unforgettable stay.” So that’s what you did. You had no idea just how unforgettable your stay would be. Day one a beautiful stranger with haunting eyes captivates you.

Note: Yaaaaaay, more Alfie!!!! Expect plenty more as I’ve discovered new to me pics of him and new-to-me facts about him. Fell deep in the rabbit hole of him the other night. This will be a 3 parter following each day.

Note II: There will be Google-translated Brazillian Portuguese in this fic. The text that is highlighted beside the Portuguese is the English translation. If it is incorrect, I apologize, and let’s all blame Google. Hopefully, it isn’t wrong.

Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy this!

If you enjoyed this, please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG.

***NOT Edited/Proofread**

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Chapter One: Welcome to Rio-Day One

“Eu espero que você aproveite a sua estadia.” {I hope you enjoy your stay}, the hotel front desk attendant said with a bright smile as she handed you back your passport along with your room key card and a folder.

“Muito obrigado.” {Thank you so much}, you replied returning her smile.

The lobby of the hotel was in full festive swing. Across the way to the left, there was a group of musicians playing instruments which filled the lobby with the sounds of steel drums, something that looked like a tambourine but slightly different, a musical bow looking contraption and a guitar. Altogether it sounded very close to samba music but with a tropical twist. You loved it.

“Your Portuguese is sufficient but I speak English,” the attendant said.

You released a breath. You’d been practicing for the last month and a half in prep for the movie you were going to be filming around the smaller islands and locations but you were nowhere near confident in yourself to proclaim yourself fluent or even conversational.

“Thank goodness. I’m sorry if I’m butchering your beautiful language.”

She giggled then waved you off. “You aren’t, I promise. I’m impressed you even tried. Portuguese is not an easy language to master.”

“Tell me about it. I’m trying though.”

A man in similar garb to what the attendant wore approached you with a warm smile.

“Eu tenho suas malas, por favor, siga-me.” {I have your bags, please follow me}

You glanced back to the attendant knowing when you were out of your depth. She smiled then translated for you. Nodding, you thanked the man and followed him as he wheeled you through the lobby and around the many guests standing around and watching the musical performance. Once in the elevator, you got lost in your phone checking your emails and messages. You’d been getting plenty of emails from your agent the last few weeks as filming for “The Blue Lagoon” drew nearer and nearer.

You’d seen the originals and had always loved them for their simplicity. When you heard they were remaking them you jumped to audition but didn’t hold your breath that you’d be called back or even selected. If history was any indicator you expected the role to go to some tall, slim, little to no melaninated actress who had more star power and more of a stronger backing. You’d been in LA for three years and had done mainly commercials, modeling gigs, and C-level sci-fi movies.

So when you’d gotten the call back you were shocked. Then the second call back stunned you even more. By the time your agent called to give you the news that you’d been chosen you were speechless. The news had come mere days before you were going to make the decision to throw in the towel, leave LA and go back home to figure out your next move.

“Esse caminho por favor. Este é o seu quarto.” {This way please. This is your room}

You understood maybe four words but it was enough for you to follow him as he used your key card to open your room at the end of the hall. You thanked him then walked in first and couldn’t help but gasp.

“My god.”

The view before you was incredible. The lush green of the palm trees framed the picturesque blues and sandy browns of the beach and the Atlantic. From this high up it was enough to leave you in awe.

“Bonito não é?” {Beautiful, isn’t it?}

“Sim, muito muito bonito.” {Yes, very, very beautiful.}

A few moments later, the man handed you back your key card then bowed his head before he left. Walking closer to the nearest window, you opened the sliding door and stepped onto the balcony then took a deep breath. The salt from the ocean mixed with coconuts and the sweet smell of pastries and you sighed.

“Three days and four nights of this. Just what the doctor ordered.”

An hour or so later you found yourself wandering around taking in everything you could. The city was so lively and loud you knew that there had to be tons of pockets of culture and normalcy for you to take in. You’d read an old interview of one of your favorite celebrities where they said they wished they would have soaked up traveling like a local rather than a tourist when they could because getting to know a city for what it really was couldn’t be beaten. That had stuck with you and whenever you traveled you preferred to do the less touristy things.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted a fruit cart and hurried over to order an assortment of the top local fruits. You watched as the cart owner prepared sliced pineapple, guava, papaya, and mango and placed them into a large plastic cup. She then drizzled a mixture over the top then held it out to you. Smiling, you accepted and handed her the money then went on your way. Upon first bite, you realized the drizzle was a mixture of lemon and lime juice and salt. You moaned as the sweet fruit juices washed over your tongue then melded with the tang of the drizzle. You already didn’t want to leave.

Soon, you got lost going from cart to cart looking at crafts, tools, clothes, accessories, fruits, foods, and even masks. You were like a hummingbird flitting all over the place inhaling everything about the city that you could. If one was to judge a country based on its food alone then Brazil was top-notch.

“Garota linda! {Beautiful Girl!}”

The shout was so loud it boomed over the chaos of the street. You glanced in the direction of the voice and found a man in a colorful mesh top and white pants waving you down with one hand while his other hand continued beating against the pad of a drum. You approached the man and watched as the ones with him expertly played their instruments. The sound was beautiful and easily made you feel like you were right where you were—in one of the music capitals of the world.

He smiled and said something else you didn’t understand before he motioned to your lower half.

“I’m sorry I don’t—.”

“He said dance.”

You spun around to find a tall man towering over you by at least a foot. His hair was a neat but messy curled afro that matched his beard and mustache. Hypnotizing amber eyes stared at you with a glint of humor in them. You felt like you’d seen him before but you couldn’t place from where. There was something familiar about him in an unfamiliar way. One thing that could not be missed was his attractiveness.

“Uh—dance?”

“You know how right?”

“Well—I do but--,” you protested.

“But what? You either know how or you don’t.”

“Mova esses quadris!”

You looked back to the man beating the drums then back to the newcomer who’d translated moments before. He was also smiling.

“Move those hips,” he translated.

Without you realizing it, a crowd had formed and they were now clapping trying to motivate you.

“Oh garoto, siga minha liderança, {Oh boy, follow my lead.}” the tall dark and handsome man said before he approached you holding out his hands

“Posso?”

“Huh?”

“May I?”

Slowly, you nodded then he placed one hand at your waist and the other on your back. He then pushed your waist inward while thrusting your back forward.

“You’re too stiff. The first thing to learn in Brazillian dancing is in order to have any rhythm you have to feel the music and always be fluid.”

“Okay.”

“Rotate your hips like you’re hula-hooping.”

“What?”

He smirked, “Trust me.”

“I just met you.”

“Exactly and I’m the one who stepped up so you don’t make a fool out of yourself and have them making fun of you in a language you don't understand.”

He nudged his head to a group of older women who were watching you with nothing but amusement.

“Okay,” you conceeded.

You imagined a hula-hoop around your waist and you began circling your hips. First slowly then you got into the rhyme of the instruments. When your eyes met the man before you he looked impressed.

“Wow. Not some stiff americana tourista I see. You know you have hips. Next are the steps. Follow me.”

You watched his feet as he did a cool two-step that turned into a slightly complicated four-step. He did it again and again and again until you slowly caught on.

“Good. Keep your hips moving letting your legs lead. The dance is important to the music, it tells a story. Think you have it?”

You nodded.

“Let’s see.”

You mimicked everything he did while trying your best to keep your hips in motion to the rapidly changing music. The crowd around you began to cheer and clap and that was when you knew you had it.

“Good. Now faster.”

You tried your best to keep up with him but when his legs moved like he were some sort of otherworldly creature you knew there was no way to keep up. The crowd laughed but applauded you. The amber-eyed man chuckled and joined in applauding you. You smiled and spun around feeling like you’d just put on an award-winning performance. Suddenly, you felt heat by your ear and you probably should have been a little put-off, but you weren't.

“I see there’s hope you just might get some Brazillian into you while you’re here.”

You didn’t know if it was the depth of his voice that elicited the reaction or his wording choice but an intense shiver ripped through you making your stomach drop but not in disappointment. This was something else. When you turned to face him, there was no one. Your eyes scanned the street but the sea of people made it impossible to find him. The only thing in your mind was a question.

Who was that?

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Just so y'all know, this next fic is an Alfie fic and in it I am living out all my "Body Party" and "Pour it Up" vibes.

ALL A DEM!

Sooooooo excited!!!!! 🤗🤗

I might drop a seak peek.

[buttercream-princess]

The First Night In Rio (Oneshot)

Summary: Last year you had more losses than wins, so when the opportunity to go to Carnival in Brazil came along, it was the healing getaway you needed. Along the way, you meet a beautiful stranger at the club who provides you with the sexual healing you also needed.

**I’m terrible with summaries but you get the gist. 😉

Warnings: Drinking, Swearing, Peeping Tom Behaviour, Unprotected sex, SMUT, interactive, public sex, cheating

Word count: 7.7K

Paring: Alfred Enoch x Reader

(Only slightly edited | only proofread once!)

Thank heavens, the year was finally over. 2022 was filled with nothing but heartbreak, worrisome regrets, and waves of pain that kept you up every night, leaving puddles of tears on your childhood plushies that always knew how to soothe you. Without your plushies, your go-to sappy playlist on Spotify, and your favorite California red wine, you were sure the earth would've swallowed you whole.

In March, your fiancé of two years, Elijah, called off the engagement without explanation or closure. He left you standing there speechless, surrounded by the half-empty apartment the two of you shared, with just a brief goodbye and dirty dishes in the sink.

 "I think it's best this way. We were never gonna make it," he said bluntly.

As Elijah's belongings were already packed and out of sight, you were left to cancel the wedding invitations and hires alone. Elijah didn't even bother to help cancel the suppliers and planner, leaving all the nitty-gritty, heart-aching tasks to you. Your best friend of ten years, Iyana, was by your side the entire time, helping you tick everything off the wedding disaster checklist. That was the easy part.

Administrative tasks come naturally to you, but the hard part was the inevitable loneliness and continuous questioning of "Why?" when you slept on his side of the bed at night, smelling his cologne in the sheets and trying to hold onto what was and the remnants of his love that was no longer there.

The endless headaches from crying and lack of self-care due to the cold sting of depression left you in a mess.

In November, you finally received an answer to your "why" about Elijah. It was during a wine and movie night with your friends, and you were beginning to forget about him, even if only for the moment. That is until Iyalna asked you to call her phone because she thought she had left it in her car.

"Got you, girl. I'll call it now," you said, tapping open your phone and dialing her number.

"Thanks, lovely," Iyalna said as she headed out the door.

You could hear muffled buzzing coming from the kitchen. "Iy, I think it's here!" you called out, but there was no response. "Oh, she can't hear me. She must have gotten on the elevator already..." you thought, following the sound of her phone.

You peeled back a bag of chips that was hiding her phone and pressed down on the home button to turn off the vibration.

Elijah - 2 Messages

Wait, Elijah? Your Elijah? Why would he be texting her?

Two seconds hadn't gone by, and your curiosity got the best of you. You usually respected boundaries and were not a nosy person, but this called for investigation. You unlocked her phone. You didn't know what to expect, but nothing could have prepared you for what you saw next.

"Can't you just cancel on Y/N tonight? I swear she asks to see you almost every week. She's so needy, like a sad little puppy 🙁"

"I miss you. Come home soon."

"Also, I'm staying up for when you get back. I may or may not have bought you something that I want to use on you. 😏"

Hell broke loose when you confronted Iyalna with the texts. Extensions were pulled out, and blood was drawn that night. Your other girlfriends had to pull you off of her. 

It was a nasty sight but you felt no regrets. A good ass-whooping was all the closure you needed. In a way, you were grateful for the falling out. It answered all of your questions and remedied the painful nights you experienced daily. From that moment, you were completely done with fiances, dating, best friends, and overall letting people into your vulnerable and annoyingly soft heart. 

Although you were satisfied with the end result of the whole situation, you felt the burn of two heartbreaks double-time over. You painted on a happy face every day, but you were subconsciously in agony, mourning people who you thought were your soulmates.

Something as devastating as what you experienced called for a life cleanse. By December, you challenged yourself to enjoy life without dating or romance, and without allowing people to toy with or manipulate your heart behind your back. Your emotional wall was up like a barricade on a battlefield.

Sure, this choice of yours had some toxic holes, but it kept you safe. And that's exactly what you wanted: a sense of comfort and "peace".

The agreement you made with yourself did have its perks, you must admit. You learned the beauty of saying "No" to things you had no desire to participate in, whether romantically or platonically. But this boundary was bittersweet; friends started inviting you out less and less, and eventually, you forgot what it was like to be touched by someone with the desire to connect with you on a deeper level.

January was kicking off with a bang. You had taken all your energy and put it into your job at Beleza Do Mar, the most prestigious beauty and wellness company in North and South America. As a social media marketing manager, you spent day and night pushing out magnificent results that exceeded expectations. So much so that work had become your crutch, a rewarding replacement for any kind of relationship.

In fact, you were working so hard that your boss took note and became both pleased and worried. You were working from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m., beyond the usual hours. Psyched up on caffeine and adderall, you sometimes even forgot to clock out and return home. But your presence and dedication were definitely noticed.

One afternoon, after another sleepless night at the office, your boss, Maya, called you into her office.

"So, Y/K, your performance has been phenomenal," she said.

"Thank you. I just want to make sure everything is perfect," you replied, your finger jittering with the hem of your skirt due to the five black coffees you've already downed that morning.

"Yes. Everyone appreciates all the work you've been doing. You've raised our sales numbers just from your insight." A thin-lipped smile formed on her lips. "But..." she lingered, her smile slowly fading into a stern gaze.

"Yes?" You knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

"But at Beleza Do Mar, we can't possibly - or legally - allow you to work more than 38 hours a week. I looked at your clock card online, and you've been working 45 hours per week."

"I don't see the issue. I've been acing every project that's come my way, plus handling the extra tasks of everyone in my team and picking up slack in Communications."

"That's the problem. You're working seven hours beyond our full-time employee bandwidth, and that's not even including the wellness seminars and out-of-office engagements that have been assigned to you." She showed a downward smile as her brows narrowed together. It was as if it was painful to present you with this news.

"So...am I...fired? Please don't tell me I'm fired." Your stomach churned. "This job is all I have left." you say, feeling a teensy bit pathetic, but you couldn’t help being so transparent, it was the truth. This job was your be-all and end-all at the moment.

Your boss quickly jumped to your relief. "Y/N, I know you've had a difficult year. I share my sympathy with you. I know things haven't been easy for you. Beleza Do Mar is a wellness company, and we don't find pleasure or joy in overworking our staff..."

You stared at her, eyes wide open and heart racing, waiting for her to continue.

"We are giving you an all-expenses-paid holiday in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, with three extra invitations for guests of your choosing. It's a yearly trip that the higher-ups go to for Carnival. One of the vice presidents called in sick and couldn't go, so it's been passed down. I figured, out of everyone, you would benefit from the trip the most." She paused, breathing in, and a fixed grin grew on her face. "This is off the record, but my love, you need a break. You've been working yourself to the bone. This would be an enlightening time to go to Rio, smell the flowers, and connect your feet to the welcoming soil of the mother..." She smiled with a glint almost shining off her holy teeth, "Mother Earth, that is."

Of course, she would say that. She's a homeopathic vegan doula turned executive president for a company that was in Forbes' "The Global 200" list. This was something that you could never quite get your head around. She's a product of the company, you guessed.

"I understand...and am extremely grateful. I just can't up and leave my job. I have bills to pay," you said, mumbling the last bit.

"No need to worry about that, flower child. We are covering all the days you are on holiday. You'll be paid for every workday, limitless room service, plus per diems that are quite gracious, if you ask me."

Your posture relaxed in your chair as you heard this. This sounded like a dream. Almost too good to be true.

"What about my projects?"

"Not your problem while on holiday. I'll have Jennie in Socials take care of everything. All you have to worry about is what you're wearing for Carnival and lathering up on Beleza Do Mar 50+ sunscreen while you're there. The South American sun takes no prisoners, trust me." She cheerfully informed you.

You let out a sigh of relief while pondering over your options. Though you had arising work questions and tried to fix made-up dilemmas to protest about, you took a minute to sit on the idea of a holiday. You looked back up to Maya, who had her computer screen turned around to show you the five-star resort you'd be staying at.

A plunge pool and limitless room service didn't sound too bad. You hesitated to respond, quickly gathering your thoughts.

"I mean...I have nothing to lose. Why not..." A thought of consolation eased into your mind as you eyed the kind luxurious bed shown in the photos on the laptop.

You couldn't help the goofy smile as you gave your answer. "Okay, I'll take the holiday."

Maya let out a high-spirited "Fabulous!" followed by reassuring elements about the trip that were sure to put your anxiety-driven mind at bay.

Carnival in Brazil? That was an event you'd always wanted to go to. Once you put your over-eager girl-boss demeanor aside, you were shyly beaming with joy.

What were the odds of this trip falling into your lap? If you needed a sign from God that you deserved some sense of calm after the storm, this was it.

_________________________________________

"Okay, and are you wearing the skin-toned sheer tights I bought you with your carnival outfit?" your mom blissfully asks.

"No, Mom. My legs look fine just as they are," you say.

"Sweetie, I told you your cellulite looks like a striped Bengal tiger. It's beautiful, I just love it! Nature, gorgeous. But don't you think you'll catch more bees if your honey is hidden? Or however that saying goes," she blurts out, not even thinking once to mince her words.

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only saying what I think is right. Plus, it's your father's fault you have that backside. Those Y/L/N genes are too potent."

"Oh my god, I'm not speaking about this right now," you blatantly state while shaking your head as the bellboy at the luxurious hotel you're staying at packs your bags onto the luggage carrier, guiding your group into the entrance of the accommodation.

February whined around, and eventually, you found yourself in Rio, ready to get blind drunk, dance until your hips go numb, and practice the Portuguese that you've been learning on Duolingo for the past month. Unfortunately, with the price of unbreakable boundaries, you've burned more bridges than you could count on your fingers, so those three extra tickets you were given were going to waste until you mentioned the trip to your family in a group Facetime. By the time you accidentally mentioned that you didn't have anyone to attend Carnival with, your little sister and mother already volunteered themselves to fill the spot, along with your mother's best friend, Tamara. There was no turning back when they decided they were coming, plus you could use the familiar company. You've been lonely in the city for what felt like centuries.

You near the front desk, tapping the bell as no one is around to attend to you.

Your little sister, Nia, already has her phone out, capturing every second to post on her Instagram story.

"Nia, delete that. Now."

"What? No way. This is funny as fuck. It's only going on my close friends."

"We just landed like 30 minutes ago, and you're already airing out my business? You are unbelievable." You aim to take her phone, but her hand slaps your movement out of the way, and suddenly, the two of you were squabbling over her phone, making a scene in front of everyone watching.

Embarrassment was an understatement, but you were more embarrassed at the thought of her friends in your hometown reporting to their older siblings that your whole derriere was up for shits and gigs.

"Girls stop, you're being ridiculous," your mother says as she takes selfies with Aunt Tamara, already basking in the vacation vibes.

Who would have thought you and your 20-year-old sister would already be bickering over Instagram posts at 7 PM in the afternoon of the beautiful paradise that is Brazil? You were grown but not too grown to put your little sister in her place.

From an earshot, you hear the concierge clear their throat and speak out loudly.

"Boa tarde senhorita (Good Afternoon, miss), how may I help you?"

You instantly end the debacle and give your attention to the front desk, straightening out your clothes and readjusting your hair.

You force a toothy smile as you respond, "Hi, I'd like to check in. We are under Y/L/N. There are four of us."

"Si, let me just check…alright, we have you in our presidential suite. I'll just have to grab identification, and I can get the keys for you."

Presidential suite? Maya wasn't lying when she said this was 5-star, damn!

The handover happened swiftly, and soon you and your family were unlocking the door to the suite.

All you could hear were gasps as you stepped into the room. Soaking in the rich greenery and smell of sea salt water, you run to the deck outside and take in the beautiful scenery. Your heart welled with lovely goodness; this is exactly what you need.

You were a 10-minute stroll from the beach, the sun was setting in a pink-hued orange bake, and the sound of early festive parties for Carnival was all happening on the beach. You were speechless, just in complete awe.

"This is better than I expected. I'll give it to you. This is amazing," Nia says as she comes up from behind you, joining you at the rail of the suite.

She was right; this is beyond amazing.

"Thanks. I'm just happy we're here." You childishly raise a brow and look over at Nia, not being able to hide your giddiness; a smile creeps up on your lips.

"What? Not mad anymore?" She asks.

"How could I be? Do you see this? I'm just…grateful." A single tear escapes your eyes, exhaling out all the stress, worry, and heartache that you carried with you to Brazil, in complete gratitude.

"Aweeee, look at my big baby. It's okay, let it out." Nia wraps her arms around you, embracing you in a tight squeeze as the two of you look out to waves crashing on the shore.

Feelings stirred and brewed in you; you didn't know what it was, but everything coming into place just made you emotional.

"Y'know, even though you're a bitch sometimes, I'm happy you're here. And I love you," you mumble into her hair, hugging her back.

"I know."

"And I know we might both be jet-lagged, but how does 'First night in Rio, getting fucked up off some shots and funk carioca' before Mom and Aunt Tamara crash our night sound to you?"

"I don't know what funk carioca is, but I heard shots, so I'm in." Nia laughs, resting her head on your chest. "And it's better we fuck off before they start getting into the bar. I don't wanna hear Mom singing any Prince to us tonight."

You and Nia giggle to yourselves at the memory of your mom doing karaoke whenever she gets drunk.

"Let's unpack and take showers. Tonight we get fucking scattered." She exclaimed and cheekily smacks Nia's bottom before heading inside to the suite.

—------------------------------------------------

Thanks to Nia's research on the best nightclubs in Rio for young people from Tiktok, the two of you were able to find a hidden gem that played tasteful R&B tunes and served delicious cocktails. As most tourists did not know about this club, the Y/L/N girls were able to stand out, and locals were dancing with and buying drinks for you all night.

After three margaritas and three shots, you were feeling your skin and your confidence was skyrocketing in the outfit Nia picked out for you. She suggested ditching the heels for some flats, as this is something true Brazilians would wear to the club. Thank god you listened to her, as all the girls sported sneakers or sandals.

A local boy who had been buying you drinks all night asked if you wanted to dance, but you declined, saying you were taking a break and feeling tired. He nodded and went to dance with his friends. Although he was cute, he was young, and you would pass him off to your sister. Meanwhile, Nia was preoccupied with a girl with sun-beached curls pressed against the wall of the club, trying to lay some game despite not speaking an ounce of Portuguese. You chuckled to yourself, watching the interaction like quality comedy television.

After a few songs the girl leaves and you mindlessly watch Nia approach the bar, crossing your legs as you waited for her to get you both a drink. A man with a fine muscular build stood next to Nia. He was tall, rocking a bleached platinum blonde buzz cut, wearing green cargo pants and a fitted singlet with a singular necklace hanging off his neck. He was fine.

He said something in Nia's ear, and she laughed. It seemed that this girl was on a roll, as she had almost every good-looking person at the club trying to make a pass at her. Nia listened to him with a look of confusion on her face, turned, and pointed to you, replying back to the man. He nodded and glanced over at you, a sly smirk on his face. You felt heat rise on your cheeks, wondering what they were talking about.

You awkwardly look down at your phone and press away at random apps, distracting yourself from the handsome strangers gaze. Moments later all you hear is rows of drinks being placed on the table in front of you. They looked like nice fancy cocktails, not the cheap stuff. It turned out that the tall guy Nia met at the bar, who was now sitting in VIP, had ordered every cocktail on the menu for you and Nia. He asked Nia what drink you liked, and she told him cocktails so now you were getting a taste of everyone. You were flattered by the gesture.

Looking up at the sexy stranger, you caught him staring you down with a smug smirk on his lips. It was like he knew his attention had you feeling a type of way. You smile and raise one of the drinks up to him, chucking him a thumbs up as if to gesture that it was a good choice. He licked his lips and nodded his head, not sparing you from his effortless sensual gaze.

You clench your thighs together, already feeling your bud starting to buzz. You glance up at him again, but he was no longer sitting at his table. You look around the club, trying to spot his platinum cut, but you couldn't see through the crowd of people. A sigh escapes your lips. "Well, that was nice. For the short time it lasted," you thought.

"I gotta pee, can you mind the drinks?" You ask Nia.

"Of course!" She says, sipping away on a blue cocktail.

You get up from your seat and head to the restrooms, only to find a long line outside the ladies bathroom. You’ve had too many drinks to wait for 20 minutes; you’re just about ready to make a puddle in the club right now.

You decide to make your way to the male bathroom and barge in, throwing the men in the quarters off guard. 

"I’ve seen it all before, there’s nothing you have that could shock me. Eu eu? Eu só tenho que fazer xixi! (Me me? Me just have to pee)" You exclaim as you walk in. You were 100% sure what you said didn’t make sense, but that was the least of your worries.

The male clubgoers in the bathroom remark sentences to you in Portuguese that you couldn’t make out, but they clearly weren’t pleased, apart from the flirty foreign catcalls and whistles in the mix.

Most of the men clear the room when you entered and you lean against the wall next to a urinal, waiting for a free stall. Out of the corner of your eye, you can just make out the frame of a tall somebody.

You dare to look, finding that tall somebody to be the sexy stranger who bought you the row of cocktails. "Oh…my…god. Fuck." You think, as he lines himself up with the urinal right next to you.

You knew he was attractive but didn’t know he was this fine. It was almost criminal how beautiful he was up close. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your core starts setting off fireworks. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to snap yourself back to reality, but your eyes remained on his beauty.

He lifts his shirt, revealing his marbled abs. He was cut to perfection. A body so heavenly sculpted, it would put Michelangelo’s work to shame. Your eyes fall to his curled snail trail as he unbuttons his belt, peeling the hem of his boxers down. 

He stands completely oblivious to you gawking, as if you blended in with the neon lights and concrete restroom wall. A breeze of his vanilla musk cologne sucks you right back in, and that’s all it takes for you to go feral. Your eyes shamelessly flock down to his manhood, catching a glimpse of just how much wood he was packing.

A low gasp leaves your mouth. You couldn’t hold it back. His member was a shocking 9 inches of lust and astonishing girth. Even on soft, he had a weapon that could demolish your walls, which were already flooded with your slick. Your heartbeat begins racing, matching the beat of your pulsing clit, which had become its own entity at this point, yearning to be fiddled with and sucked on by him.

You look away to hold on to whatever was left of your dignity. Yet when you look ahead, you automatically glue to his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his back muscles flexing as he takes care of his business.

You tightly press your thighs together, trying to put a damper on waves of juices drenching your thong. He chuckles, a sly smirk on his lips. You quickly look away, knowing damn well he caught you out. Heat flushes your cheeks as you throw your hand over your face in embarrassment.

“Shit.” you murmur.

"Eu te mostro o meu se você me mostrar o seu. ('ll show you mine if you show me yours.)"

His voice was deep and warm, inviting even. You didn’t understand what he was saying, but whatever it was, you liked it. 

“Oh- I…shit. I’m sorry!” You apologize, not able to find words for your behavior.

He tilts his head and finally looks at you, smug written all over his face while putting his goods away and zipping up.

“I didn’t mean to look.”

You definitely did.

“I’m just waiting to use the toilet. The line for the women's toilet was packed. I, ah… eu preciso urinar? (I need to use the toilet.)”

He shakes his head, laughing at your attempt to speak his language. He walks over to the sink, not saying a word nor responding to your dramatics. Judging by his silence, you can only assume there was a language barrier.

Going off the fact that he or anyone else in the restroom wasn’t processing a single english word you were saying, you thought, “Fuck it. No one's listening anyways,” then went on to babble your train of thoughts out loud.

“Why? Why do these things happen to me? Why couldn’t I just mind my business? No, I had to be nosy.” 

He watches you in the reflection of the mirror while washing his hands with a pleased look plastered on his face. You want to run away and hide, but his gaze is pouring unholy thoughts into your mind and you like all the nasty things he was making you think.

You just want him to take you to an alley behind the club, pull your skirt up and put all his 9 inches inside you. You know it would hurt, he's too big, he’d leave you creamed with rug burns for days - you're sure of it.

You snap back to reality when a door to one of the toilers opens, and a man exits. Still thinking out loud, you drunkenly narrate to yourself, burping out giggles here and there as you enter the stall.

You relieve your bladder and wipe multiple times, having to thoroughly clean up the vat of slick on your slit. The disgustingly horny effect he had on your body was evident. You were a mess. Drenched panties, swollen clit, and stained inner thighs from your juices. Even your asshole was lubed up enough to pop a plug in.

“What the fuck? I must be ovulating because how did he make me this wet?…There’s so much, so much…”

After using a week's worth of toilet paper, you flush and head out. The nameless sex god was still present, adjusting his chain in the mirror.

You sigh in frustration, walking towards the sink furthest away from him. You can’t help but feel the nasty sting of regret from your sloppiness. He was by far the most attractive person you’ve seen in your entire life. You're sure any chance with him is out of the picture, all because of your cocktail-fueled actions. You're gutted. Although, it doesn’t hurt to look at him. Shit, if anything, it feels good to look at him, you thought.

Pressing the dispenser for soap, his reflection in the mirror is all you can focus on. Your mindless narration isn’t done; you still have thoughts that need to be spoken out loud.

“I just know that dick is crazy. I would’ve fucked the breaks off him.”

You hear the beautiful stranger snort.

"For what it’s worth, I’d rate your Portuguese pretty good for a foreigner." He says, this time in clear English, looking back at you in the mirror.

Your muscles tense up, and your breathing comes to a hitch. God, no…he understood English the entire time? What the fuck.

You can’t believe it. The possibility of him listening to every crazy thought you word vomited out was too much to process.

“And,” he walks over to you, nearing so close you were engulfed in his cologne and could feel heat radiating off his body, “I’d fuck the breaks off you too.”

An English accent drips off his words like honey. You're just about filled to the brim with surprises, but you’d let him fill you even more if it meant hearing that sexy accent moan your name.

“I didn’t mean to say that. I thought you didn’t speak English.”

He places his hand on the wall behind you and leans his face down to yours.

“I beg to differ. I think you did mean it.”

“It was an accident.”

“Right. I think I recall hearing, “How’d he get me so wet?” Was that also an accident?”

You swallow hard, feeling the pulse in your core pick back up.

“Acci-Yes. Accident.” You stutter.

His eyes wander down to your nether region.

“Well, I’d love to taste this accident.”

Fuck, he was smooth.

He retracts his hand from behind you with a fist of paper towels and dries his hands.

You're speechless. So much happened in a matter of seconds that you were lost for words, your mouth fell open but not a single word came out.

He laughs and leaves for the door, leaving you there standing in a state of shock. Your gaze shifts back to the mirror, your face was red and you were almost shaking of pure embarrassment. Before you could debrief and gather yourself, you hear his voice again.

“So, you coming or what?” He leans against the door with an awaiting look on his face.

You look around the bathroom to see who else he would be talking to. There was no one else in view, only you. He wanted you and he was making it obviously clear. You point towards your chest and mouth, “Me?”

“Who else, a namorada? (Sweetheart)”

Goddamnit. That's all you needed to hear.

You take no time to jump to the opportunity and follow the stranger out of the bathroom. He takes your hand which was twice the size of yours and leads you through the cramped crowd of the club. You didn’t bother to ask where he was taking you, you’d follow this man anywhere, anyday.

He guides you to a red VIP queue barrier and nods to the security guard.

“She’s with me. Also another girl.”

He scans the crowd behind you and points out Nia in the crowd to which the guard nods and heads in amongst the dancing bodies towards Nia’s direction.

He whispers in your ear, “Your sister, right?”

You smile. How sweet of him to remember Nia, you like that kind of consideration in a man.

“Sim (Yes), little sister. Thanks for inviting her too.”

His hand was still clasped with yours, he gently squeezed it and flashes you a wink.

You wave at Nia who was now following the guard towards the VIP area you were in, she waves back at you and starts giggling once she sees you with the sexy stranger from the bar. She knows your type, so she knows you’ll be glued to him all night.

You bring you attention back to him and he continue walking down a hall behind the section, and guides you to a room. It was empty besides the aisle of liquor on the wall and couches and seats. You let go of his hand and walked in the room, it was much more fancy and well decorated compared to the rest of the club.

“So what’s this room used for?”

“Depends on the occasion.”

“Is this a part of the package for the section you were in?”

“No.” He clicks the door locked.

You walk to the bar, eyeing down your drink of choice.

“So we’re stealing rooms tonight, are we?”

“My best mate owns the club. We can go to any room of your choosing. I just thought a pretty lady like yourself deserved the best one.”

You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest at his words. He was charming, but there was something genuine about the way he spoke to you that made you feel special…and seen.

"Well, I appreciate the gesture. So what do you recommend we do in this fancy room of yours?"

"I can think of a few things," he murmurs.

Before you could grab yourself a glass, you feel his body near behind you. You were stuck between him and the bar and it felt amazing to be against his body.

Your heart races as he leans in closer. He clearly wanted you right now but you weren’t gonna give it up that easily, you already made it too well known how eager you were in the bathroom, it’s time to slow down this burn. His breath is hot against your ear.

"But first, let's have a drink. What can I get for you?"

He grabs the glass you were going for and digs into the ice bucket in the sink with it.

“Tequila. And let’s start with the basics...names. We don’t even know eachothers names.”

“I mean I was fine with callin’ you a minha rapariga.”

He grabs the bottle of 1800 on the top shelf.

“And that means?”

“My girl. But I’d love to put a name to your beautiful face”

You snort.

“Good one. It’s Y/K.”

“Y/K? Oh Y/K. I like the way that feels on my lips.”

He pours the 1800 into the glass, no mixer.

“And yours?”

He rotates your hips so you were now facing him, a smirk on his face.

“Alfie, my mates call me Al.”

He moves closer to you, his hand resting on the bar beside yours. "You know, I've been watching you all night," he says, his voice low and seductive. "And I have to say, I've never had anyone steal my attention like you."

Alfie pulls your hips closer to his and lifts the drink up to your lips to which you swallow. He doesn't pull away, he continues feeding you the alcohol until it was finished. You shiver at the sensation, feeling a rush of desire wash over you. 

“All, all, all of it. Good girl.”

The alcohol burned your throat but you didn’t wince, there was something about him talking you through it that gave you all the motivation to stomach the tequila.

Alfie places the glass on the counter and leans in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours.

You feel his breath on your skin and your heart races in anticipation.

"Can I kiss you, Y/K?" he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

You nod your head, unable to find your voice as your eyes lock onto his. With a gentle touch, he cups your face in his hands and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is fiery, sending a jolt of desire through your body as his tongue traces your lips, seeking entrance. You open your mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pulls you closer to him.

His hands roam over your body, tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts through your clothes. You moan softly into his mouth as he pulls away, his eyes dark with desire.

"God, you're so beautiful. I’ve been wanting to do this all night to you" he murmurs, his hands trailing down your body to the hem of your dress. With a swift motion, he pulls it up and over your head, leaving you standing there in your underwear.

You blush at his intense gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable in front of him. But his eyes soften as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze tracing every curve and dip of your body.

"Perfect," he says, his voice filled with admiration.

He steps forward, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he presses his lips to your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin. You let out a soft moan, arching your back as he moves lower, his hands trailing down your sides to your hips.

He hooks his fingers into your underwear and pulls them down, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. You feel a rush of heat between your legs as he dips his head down, his tongue flicking over your clit, overwhelming you in waves of ecstasy.

Your back spans against the bar as you let out a cry of pleasure, your fingers going over his buzz cut hair while he continues to pleasure you, his tongue and fingers working in perfect unison, slurping on your clit and tugging on your g-spot in perfect movement. You feel your body start to tense, your orgasm building as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Alfie," you moan, your hips bucking against his mouth as you finally fall over the edge, your body shaking with pleasure.

He stands up, a satisfied grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you, sated and blissed out.

"Ready for round two, Bebê (Baby)?" he asks, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You nod, unable to resist the allure of this gorgeous stranger as he picks you up from the bench and places you on one of the couches, eager to explore every inch of your body.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his ear, "I want you to make me cream," you whisper.

He grins, "I can do that," he replies before capturing your lips in a kiss.

You can feel his hands sliding down your body, his fingers trailing over every curve and dip. You moan into the kiss as his fingers, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

He breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck as his hands continue to explore your body. You feel his teeth graze against your skin and you let out a whimper, your body already tingling with pleasure.

He pulls back, a wicked grin on his face. "You like that, don't you?" he asks, his voice husky with desire.

You can only nod, lost in a haze of desire and lust.

He leans in, his hot breath caressing your inner thigh before his tongue makes contact with your core. You gasp, your hands gripping onto the cushions as he begins to work his magic.

You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building inside of you. And just when you think you can't take it anymore, he stops.

You open your eyes, looking down at him with a pleading expression.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and seductive. "I'm just getting started."

He stands up, his eyes locked on yours as he starts to undress. Slowly, he removes his shirt, revealing a toned chest and abs that make your mouth water, the way he’s built he definitely had to be an athlete, his arms were chiseled to perfection. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him, feeling a delicious anticipation building inside of you.

He climbs onto the couch, positioning himself above you as he leans in for another kiss. This time it's deeper, more urgent, and you can feel his need for you as his tongue takes over your mouth.

His hands roam over your body, teasing and caressing as he works his way down to your pussy, before positioning himself at your entrance.

He enters you slowly, his body pressing against yours as he begins to move in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can feel yourself building towards an explosive orgasm already.

“I’m already cumming!” You moan.

“I know baby, I know.” He groans while his eyes are closed shut, lost in the pure pleasure of your sex.

He picks up the pace, his movements becoming faster and more intense as you both reach the brink of release. And when you finally come undone, he's there to catch you, holding you tightly as you ride the waves of ecstasy, grinding against each other's bodies together.

When it's over, you lay there, panting and spent, wrapped in his arms. You look up at him, feeling a deep sense of connection and satisfaction that words could never fully describe. He leans back and looks down between you two, at the mess you made on his dick

"Look at that. That’s all for me, huh?" He says, a smirk spreading across his face.

You look away smiling, feeling vulnerable and whisper, “Yeah, only you.”

He chuckles, his hand stroking your hair. "I aim to please," he replies, a contented look on his face.

Just as Alfie leans back into your slit for round 2, there’s an abrupt knock at the door.

“Fuck!” you mutter under your breath, reaching for your panties and dress which was scattered across the floor.

Alfie stands up and fixes his pants which had a sight of hard pulsating wood. He quickly fixes it so it was tamed down before checking in with you.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yes, who’s at the door?” You say fixing up your shoulder straps.

Alfie walks to the door, unlocking it to find a security guard waiting.

“Estamos fechando quartos. Só verificando os quartos. Tudo bem Al? (We're closing rooms. Just checking. You all good Al?)” The security asks.

“Sim, estávamos prestes a sair. (Yeah, we was just about to leave.)” Alfie responds while motioning for you to come over to him.

You follow Alfie out the room back to the open space of the club to the VIP area which was filled with Alfie’s friends and Nia, who was busy chatting up with a boy on the couches. This girl was on fire! Well, who are you to be judging, you just got your cat demolished out by a man you just met.

As you walk towards the VIP area, you sit yourself down next to Nia.

“Girl, I know you didn’t just do what I think you did.” Nia says in your ear.

“What are you talking about? We just talked and drank.”

“Oh really?”

Nia catches your eye and gives you a knowing smile, “Babe. Your dress is on inside out.”

You feel a little embarrassed, but more so exhilarated at the thought of people knowing he gave you probably the best dick of your life.

“Oh my god. Okay you got me there!” You laugh off the awkwardness. Nia rubs your back, laughing too.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been there before.”

Alfie makes his way back over to you and introduces you to his friends, who all seem friendly and welcoming. They offer you drinks and chat with you about Carnival and asked questions about America. Most of them spoke English along with Portuguese which made it easy to connect with them, they were lovely and easy to get along with. But your mind keeps drifting back to the intense chemistry you shared with Alfie just a few moments ago.

As the night wears on, you find yourself getting more comfortable around Alfie's friends. They share stories and jokes, and you can't help but laugh and enjoy yourself. But every time Alfie touches you or leans in to whisper something in your ear, you feel a jolt of electricity course through your body.

Eventually, it's time for the club to close. Alfie offers to walk you out, and you gladly accept. As you exit the club, It was almost sun up outside and the nearby cafes and business’s were beginning to open for the day. He takes your hand and pulls you close. "I had a great time tonight," he says, looking deep into your eyes, “I hope to do this with you again sometime, a minha rapariga (My girl)”

"Me too," you reply, feeling your heart rate increase.

Alfie leans in and kisses you, and for a moment, it feels like the world fades away. It's just you and him, lost in each other's embrace amongst the rest of the noise. And as you break the kiss, Nia calls your name.

“Y/K, our ubers here!”

You pull to let go but he hesitates to release his grasp, squeezing your waist tight.

“I have to go…” You shyly say, pulling from his arms. Feeling giddy, you run to the car Nia hopped in and get in the back seat

“Get home safe.” He says, waving you down before throwing his hands in the air and yelling, “Wait, I didn’t even get your number! What’s your instagram?!”

You stick your head outside the window, “It’s Y/KsWorld!”, hoping he heard you. By the smile on his face, it seemed he did because he quickly pulls out his phone and tapped away. Not even 2 seconds later you felt a buzz on your lap and there was a notification: LewisAl88 followed you.

You fall back into the seat, smiling to yourself. You was exhausted and it wasn’t just from the jet-lag, he blew your back out into another time-zone himself. Sure it was just a hook up at the club, which is something you’ve never done before in your life, but you couldn’t deny the tension between the two of you. 

You feel another buzz from your phone.

LewisAl88 sent you a message

When am I gonna see you next? 

You laugh to yourself, here you thought you were the thirsty one yet he was just as keen to be all over you. Ahhh, that feels like balance to me, you thought.

“What’s got you smiling so hard?” Nia asks.

You show her the notifications on your phone screen, she covers her mouth and joins you in laughter.

“Oh he wants you…bad!”

You roll your eyes, but can't help the smile that creeps onto your face. "I don't know," you say, "I just met him. But there was definitely something there."

Nia nods, understanding. "Well, whatever happens, just be safe and have fun," she says, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze.

You nod, grateful for her words of encouragement. As the car drives away from the club, you lean back in your seat and close your eyes, replaying the night's events in your mind.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Forgive Me, I Am A Sinner  {1}* {Two-Shot}

Title: Forgive Me I Am a Sinner {1}* {Two Shot} 

Someone x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Warning: Play on the church confessional, Cursing, Adult themes, Mild crude language/discussion, Mild NSFW(Toward end), Mistaken Identity

Summary: You have some things to get off your chest and end up walking into a church.

Note: So, this might be mildly taboo for some, if it is for you, don’t read, I’ll understand. While I don’t think I took it too far in someone’s eyes it could be blasphemous. Again, don’t read if you feel it may offend you. Nothing lewd but be warned. Don’t come to me with your complaints. They will fall on deaf ears and be met with a quick delete. I don’t think it’s bad but 🤷🏽‍♀️

  ***NOT EDITED/Proofread***

-You-

“Forgive me lord for I have sinned. It's been...never since my last confession. I've never done this. Yep, I'm a virgin. Well with confessions otherwise I am soooo not a virgin. The things this body has done, these eyes have seen, these hands have touched, and this mouth has had in it...yikes. Not a virgin. Oh god, I probably shouldn't have said that in a church with a priest across from me. Shit. I probably shouldn't have cursed in the house of God either. Oh, fuck."

You facepalmed then sighed already fed up with yourself. You didn’t know what was wrong with you or why your mouth was still moving and allowing words to pass through. Yes, you were nervous and most of it were nervous ramblings you’d always done but now was not the time to be censor free.

 "I'm going to hell, aren't I?”

 Silence. There weren’t even breathing sounds. Either there was no one there or the guy across from her was weighing his options speaking to an actual heathen. You leaned a litter closer to the wooden screen peppered with small holes that was separating the two booths.

 "Uh...priest guy? Padre? Father? Oh, great even God's messenger sees the heathen in me and has run for the hills to tell the lord this sheep has steered far from the flock. Definitely going to hell."

 You hung your head in disappointment.

 "For all the scripture that has been written about the heavenly trio, the father, the son, and the holy spirit, I doubt they would be so quick as to damn one of their flock."

 You could hear the humor in his voice, and it made you pause. Were priests supposed to have a sense of humor? It did sound like a biblical joke so maybe that wasn’t weird.

 "I think you are being too harsh on yourself," the voice on the other side followed up.

 "You do?"

 "Yes. Also, heathen in quite harsh."

 You giggled nervously. However, those nerves were dwindling with every joke he cracked. There was something soothing about his husky voice that sounded like he was half asleep and just awakened from a quick nap.  "That is what I feel like whenever I muster up the courage to speak to him about this."

 "Start from the beginning."

 "Are you sure it's okay for me to be telling you all this in a church nonetheless?"

 Silence. Was he actually thinking if it was okay? You circled your thumbs and waited for him to speak but when he didn’t you leaned closer again.

 "Hello?"

 “You came here because you needed help. You came here looking for answers and acceptance. You will find all 3 here. So, let's begin again. Trust me I've heard it all."

 You sighed relieved by his welcoming words. You then nodded and mustered even more courage. "Okay. Forgive me lord for I have sinned I've never confessed before.

 "What is your sin?"

 "Lust."

 The silence stretched for so long then the person on the other side of the screen cleared their throat.

 "Lust. Go on. How are you lustful?"

 His voice was even deeper than before.

 "I like sex--like I really, really like sex. I know the bible leans more on sex for procreation and marital health, but I am not married, and I have no plans for children. So, for me, sex is something that feels good, better than good, amazing especially if it is done right and the person I am with understands a woman's body and needs."

 The silence returned but only for a few moments. "Ehm, I'm listening."

 "Lately I've been feeling unfulfilled."

 "Sexually?"

 "Yes, mainly. I have a great career, amazing friends, wonderful family, and a life I love but when it comes to sex it's just not cutting it. The guy I've been seeing..."

 "Boyfriend?"

 He sounded disappointed and that made you pause. Why would he sound disappointed? You explained it away deciding that he was disappointed in it not being a husband or fiancé.

 "You mentioned you were not married just trying to get a better understanding," he clarified.

 "Oh. Not really. We see each other whenever we have an--itch."

 "For sex. Understood."

 "You sound very chill about this father."

 "I am simply here to listen and never to judge--my child. This is the house of the lord, and all are welcome to be who they are and lay down their burdens. That is the lord I represent."

 He sounded like the cool youth pastor that was written about in some YA novels. The one who would create raps for G.O.D. You stifled a laugh at the thought.

 "Wow, that's really cool. Anyway, he's very...vanilla. Whenever we meet--. Wait should I explain what vanilla is? Um...well."

 "No need," he quickly interrupted.

 "Really?"

 "Uh...I am what I am now, but I was not born a priest."

 His unexpected answer had you snort loudly before a laugh escaped you. "Well go on then fuck it up, father. Damn no, I didn't mean that."

 He heartily chuckled. "It's alright. Go on"

 "He's vanilla and never really knows what I need and rarely ever do I cum. I mean reach completion."

 "Then why are you wasting your time with someone like that?"

 "Uh...well...ummm...I am very picky with who I spend my time with. When I said that I like sex, it didn't mean I was some chick who sleeps around with anybody with the right body part."

 "Of course not. I didn't mean to imply that. I'm sorry."

 "No, it's cool."

 "For the record, I didn't think that of you anyway."

 "Okay. Thanks. It's just most guys are insensitive assholes who think if a woman likes sex and pleasure then they must be easy and DTF anyone."

 "Guys like that are the ones who should be offed and sent straight to hell."

 "Preach it, father.”

 It took some time for his words to make full impact, but after a few moments, they did. “Wait shouldn't you say they are also God's children and just need to be steered to the righteous path?"

 "You sound well versed in the priesthood."

 "Movies."

 He laughed again and it sounded so welcoming that you laughed with him.

 "Please continue. He doesn't satisfy you."

 "No. I thought I could handle it and finish myself off or something but tonight I couldn't."

 "Did you just have sex tonight?"

 "Yes. I guess that's another sin you have to forgive me for."

 "And you are unfulfilled."

 "Yes. So unfulfilled. My bullet couldn't even take care of this, not even my rabbit, hell not even the usual porn I watch."

 The silence across the way was deafening and you noticed. It was like you’d become hypersensitive to quietness since sitting in this booth. Suddenly he groaned as if in pain.

 "Are you okay father?"

 He groaned again then took a few breaths. Through the tiny holes in the screen, you could only make out a head turned down, everything else was shadows. "Completely.”

 It came out hoarse, strangled. “Ehm...continue.”

 "Uh, so I facetimed him and decided to tell him what I need and even some things I would be into, and he laughed and had the most freaked out look on his face. He said it wasn't normal and I shouldn't tell anyone about it again. Like he made me feel crazy and so--dirty."

 "Uh-huh. For better context. What are these preferences--my child?"

 You twiddled your thumbs then uncrossed your ankles only to cross them again. "I don't know if I should say them now. You might say the same thing."

 "No. I would never. Remember I said my place is not to judge and I am here to help?"

 You took a deep breath and tried to calm those nerves that were beginning to creep up again. After another breath you began.

 "I um...I told him I want to be tied up while he takes all control and completely ruins me. I told him I wanted to try doing it while others watched that him being so gentle is a turn-off and I wouldn't mind some teeth or nail marks on me. I can see myself being into BDSM and get turned on by dominance and submission. I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars. I want to be weak in the knees unable to walk, sore throat can't talk, eyes full of tears, chin covered in slobber, delirious with pleasure until I squirt and then pass out to do it again. I want him to know my body and what it needs better than I do. I want dirty, nasty, rough, hot passionate sex I'll never forget."

 The silence this time was so heavy so filled with the charge of excitement and arousal. You didn't know why you were slightly turned on finally getting it all out, especially to a priest in a church of all places. Hell, you didn't even know why you had come in here in the first place. The idea of confessional had always creeped you out for some reason. Telling a stranger your secret sin. It felt so vulnerable.

 "Shit. Surely I should burst into flames for all that right? First in line on the locomotive to hell? I shouldn't have said all that."

 "Are you ashamed of these desires? Do you wish to be rid of them?"

 "He made me feel ashamed."

 "Fuck him. Are you ashamed?"

 "Father?"

 "Answer me.”

 His voice was serious, and authoritative now. “Look inside yourself and answer truthfully."

 You did as he said and took some time and truly listened to yourself and everything that was going off inside you right now. Among everything, the uncertainty, the excitement, and the confusion nowhere inside of her did you feel ashamed. Not at all.

 "No. I'm not ashamed."

 "Do you wish to be rid of them?"

 "No," you replied with a little more confidence.

 "Good. You should be unapologetically you. You should not allow others to make you feel small or shameful for who you are, what you want, or what you deserve. You deserve all of that. You deserve to be sexually fulfilled and happy in all avenues of your life. We all only have one to live and restricting ourselves from true happiness is not doing service to someone, it does a disservice to ourselves."

 You sat there thinking over his words and gained confidence from each of them. He sounded as if he spoke from experience.

 "Is this your first day as a priest? I don't think you should tell parishioners to sin more to live a fulfilled life if you truly want to gain access to heaven."

 He snorted. "It is my first day doing this, but I stand by my words."

 You sat there noting your nerves had melted away and your confused state had turned to one of mellowness. You didn’t feel in a war with yourself anymore. Perhaps this was why others did this.

 "Do you feel better?"

 "Yes."

 "Good, then my work is done."

 "Wait shouldn't you give me instructions to repent like a Hail Mary or ten or something?"

 "Will it ensure you do not sin again?"

 Snorting, you replied, "Probably not."

 "Then you are free to step out of here and live your life with one piece of advice."

 "What's that?"

 "Drop that pathetic loser you're seeing. You can do so much better little lamb."

 The doors on the other side opened but you didn't register it until nearly a minute had passed. When you stepped out and looked in the opposite booth from sheer curiosity, it was empty with no priest inside.

 "Little lamb? What kind of priest was that?"

  ~~~~~~~

 -Him-

4 hours later and he was still solid as a brick hard.

 "Fuck!”

 He palmed himself yet again then squeezed hoping to relieve some of the ache there but no luck and no relief. He shoved his hand under his head and stared up through the glass roof of his skylight at the night sky. It was clear without a cloud in sight allowing the stars to really shine.

 "I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars."

 His cock throbbed so forcefully it could be seen through his now too tight pajama bottoms. Glancing down, he groaned exasperatedly.

 "Come on. It’s not funny anymore."

 He knew he shouldn’t have gone into that confessional. He knew he should have found somewhere else to wait for his manager as he spoke with the priest of the church he was donating a large amount of money to because of his connection to some of the kids he'd encountered the weekend before.

 He'd gone at that time because he was sure it would be empty and there would be no stray photos of him leaked. Donating money was no fun when everyone knew you'd done it. He liked the incognito life. He just wanted somewhere that had zero chance of him bumping into someone. No way did he expect someone to drop into the other side of the confessional and no way did he expect that someone to have that kind of confession.

 He closed his eyes as he recalled the little slivers of her face. Plum painted lips that looked full, a cute nose, skin that looked incredibly soft, and eyes that called to him. From the small perforations in the wood, he would classify you as a fucking goddess.

 Once you began your confession he should have interrupted and set the record straight but there was something about your voice that held him in place, silencing him. He’d picked up the distress in it, the frustration and uncertainty. Then the more he listened he fell under some spell. When she mentioned her definite non virgin status, he was way past curious. Maybe that’s what possessed him to answer her when she asked if he was there.

 "Curiosity," he muttered mulling over it.

 He thought over your entire confession and within seconds his cock throbbed again. Without even realizing it his hand had drifted into his pajama bottoms and was now wrapped around his engorged length.

 "Fuck!"

 "I want to be tied up while he takes all control and completely ruins me. I wanted to try doing it while others watched, that him being so gentle is a turn-off and I wouldn't mind some teeth or nail marks on me. I can see myself being into BDSM and get turned on by dominance and submission. I want to be choked a little while he slams so hard into me that I see stars. I want to be weak in the knees unable to walk, sore throat can't talk, eyes full of tears, chin covered in slobber, delirious with pleasure until I squirt and then pass out to do it again. I want him to know my body and what it needs better than I do. I want dirty, nasty, rough, hot passionate sex I'll never forget."

 "Uggh. Uggh. Uggh. Fuuuuuck."

 His hand moved so fast he was sure it was going faster than the speed of light. It had to have been. His groans, moans and grunts filled the space as he raced toward a finish he imagined would go across her beautiful face or her breasts he couldn’t see but was convinced were equally as gorgeous as her aura. Within seconds, his back angled off the bed as if whatever had possessed him earlier was finally exiting his body and being pulled into the air.

 "Holy fuck!”

 The white spots that decorated his vision made it impossible to see anything and in that moment he didn’t care. He was only focused on the amazing feelings coursing through him. When he finally regained some motion and sense he glanced down and found stream after stream of his release decorating his chest, pelvis, and pajama bottoms.

 "Ah shit. Come on! Haven't had to jerk myself off since I was twenty fucking years old, and one confessional tipped me over the edge? Unfuckinbelievable!”

 Not in a rush to get up and filled with frustration, he looked back to his skylight at the glittering stars and thought of the side profile of her face. Within seconds, he felt himself harden again and it was then he knew his cock was not done. He was in for a long night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[royallyprincesslilly]

Is there anyone who speaks fluent Portuguese that is willing to be my reference for an upcoming (1 to 2 weeks out) Alfie Enoch 1-2 shot?

This is very NSFW and might get raunchy, so be mindful of that if you get uncomfortable with content of this nature.

I'd need just translation of words, phrases, and or sentences. It's not a crazy amount, though.

If you're interested please private message me.

[buttercream-princess]

PLEASEEE CAN YOU PLEASEE MAKE MORE DEAN THOMAS SMUT

I haven't been on here in awhile and this is the first thing I see. HAHAHAHA. Do you have any particular requests in mind?

[royallyprincesslilly]

I may have something for you guys. Surprisingly.

This is for the Alfie girlies.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Hi love,

Any Alfie stories being dropped soon? xx

Hiiii,

Soon? I'm not sure a time frame but I have some Alfie goodness up my sleeve I've been getting out little by little. 😏