#THANK YOU FOR TAGGING ME!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💖💖💕💞💞💖❤️‍🔥❤️

[feralgodmothers]

OOOHHHHHH MY GOD THIS IS SO INTERESTING

Drenched in Shadows

Label Mature 18+

Summary When you can’t reach Patrick all day after he promised dinner reservations at Dorsia, concern drives you to his penthouse—and what you discover there chills you to the core.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥Patrick suffering psychosis • mental break•Patrick vulnerable • Patrick on his knees •oral on fem •clit play •shower sex • love bites • orgasms • creampie •Patrick desperate to keep you 

🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine Inspo : His Interview Mag shower photoshoot *🥵 *

Drenched in Shadows

The elevator dings as you step out into the hallway to Patrick’s penthouse. The stark, minimalist design of the place feels colder tonight. 

Your heels walk across the polished floor as you approach his sleek black door. He hasn’t answered any of your calls all day, and the unease that something is wrong  rises as you reach for the handle.

To your surprise the door is unlocked, and you push it open.

“Patrick?” you call out, stepping inside. The open space is eerily quiet, save for the distant sound of running water. The usual order of his penthouse—a temple of perfection—feels slightly off.

Your pace quickens as you head toward the bathroom, the sound of the shower drawing you there. The light spilling from the half open door makes you anxious and as you push it open your breath catches at the sight.

Patrick stands under the showerhead, fully dressed in one of his immaculately tailored suits. His head hangs low, the water pouring over him, plastering the fabric to his sculpted frame.

His hands are braced against the white marble wall, fingers splayed out as if he’s trying to keep himself upright. The water streams down his face, dripping from his sharp jawline, to the pristine floor beneath him.

“Patrick!” you exclaim, your voice sharp, almost drowned out by the steady stream of the shower. “What are you doing?” you ask, cautiously stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him.

He doesn’t move for a moment, his breathing deep and uneven, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. Then, his voice, low and hoarse, breaks the silence. “I’ve done something terrible.”

Your stomach twists into a knot the ache in his voice unsettling you to your core. “What are you talking about Patrick? What’s wrong? You’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling as you take a hesitant step closer.

Patrick doesn’t answer. Instead, he slowly turns, his blue eyes dark as they meet yours, full of something you’ve never seen before—guilt, vulnerability, a rawness that frightens you. He steps forward, water still streaming down his face, soaking the floor as he closes the distance between you.

Before you can say another word, his hands grip your wrists, pulling you into the shower with him.

“Patrick—” Your protest is cut off by the shock of the water hitting you against your skin, soaking your clothes instantly. But he doesn’t stop, his other hand slides around the back of your neck, tilting your face toward his as his lips crash into yours.

His kiss is unexpected, rough and desperate. His mouth moving against yours like he’s trying to tell you something without words. His lips are warm and persistent despite the water drenching you both. His hands cradle your face, holding you like you’re the most fragile, precious thing he’s ever touched.

You melt into him, the warmth of his body grounding you as the water drenches your hair, your clothes, your skin. He pulls away slightly, his hands trailing down your waist, gripping you gently as he guides you back from the water. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers, his voice trembling.

“Patrick?” you ask, confusion threading your voice as you try to piece together what’s happening, but he’s unable to meet your gaze.

Instead his eyes are fixated on your soaked blouse. It clings to you, heavy and uncomfortable, but Patrick doesn’t let it stay that way for long. 

His fingers slide down the buttons, peeling the fabric away from your skin as if he’s unwrapping something sacred. 

He presses you gently back against the cool marble wall, his lips finding the curve of your neck, trailing downward with an aching reverence.

Every kiss feels like an apology, his hands steadying you as his mouth explores your skin with a tenderness you’ve never felt from him before. 

His lips worship every inch of you, the water cascading over his broad shoulders and down the hard lines of his suit as he sinks to his knees. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a silent question lingering in their depths.

You don’t say a word, but your gaze softens, your body giving him the answer he already knows.

Slowly his hands slide up to your hips, his fingers hooking into the sides of your panties under your skirt. His sharp eyes never leave yours as he pulls the delicate lace down your legs.

Your pulse quickens as his gaze darkens, the intensity in his eyes stealing your breath as he pulls up your skirt, his palms gripping your hips like an anchor.

When his mouth presses between your legs  you’re lost to him, your knees buckling to the warmth of his tongue against you, like you’re the only thing that matters.

You moan loudly, your body shuddering as he claims you with unrelenting devotion, each flick and each desperate stroke of his tongue, sending shockwaves through your core, unraveling you completely. 

His lips seal around you, pulling gently as his tongue licks against you, lapping up everything your body gives him.

Patrick Bateman—the man who’s never soft, never vulnerable—satisfies you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

Lost in the moment, you don’t care what he’s done or what he won’t say. You only care that he’s here, holding you, making you feel like the most precious thing in his shattered world.

The tension inside you coils tighter and tighter until it snaps, your hips shifting uncontrollably as you release with a sharp cry, your moans echoing in the shower.

Your thighs tremble as you struggle to catch your breath, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth and tongue work you with relentless precision, his groans muffled against you as he laps up every bit of your release—like he is starving for you.

His hands grip your hips firmly, holding you steady as he finally pulls back, rising from his knees.

When he stands, his chest is heaving, water dripping from his soaked suit as he looks at you. 

Without a word, he turns you, pressing your chest against the cold marble wall as his hands glide over your wet skin, pulling your skirt up over your hips.

He pushes your legs apart, his grip firm and commanding and you shiver—not from the water but from the heat radiating off him, the sheer intensity of his presence igniting something raw and undeniable within you.

“Patrick,” you whisper, your voice a soft plea, but he doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens on your hips as he presses the head of his cock against you, the stretch overwhelming as he pushes inside.

Your breath catches feeling the thick ridges of his cock gliding in every inch, and your body arcs instinctively as a moan escapes your lips, desperate for everything he’ll give you—especially like this.

His grip on your hips tightens, his nails digging slightly into your damp skin as he pulls you back against him.

His pace is rough, each thrust leaving you breathless as your cries echo against the shower walls.

His hands slide up your sides, his nails dragging as if he’s battling an internal war between control and surrender. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, the tenderness stark against the intensity of his thrusts.

“I shouldn’t want you like this,” he pleads, his voice breaking slightly as if his guilt and desire are intertwined in him. “But I can’t stop—I can’t stop, needing you.” He confesses.

Your breath hitches, the vulnerability in his voice momentarily pulling you from the haze of pleasure. You try to respond, but a sharp snap of his hips leaves you gasping and he groans low in your ear, his forehead pressing against the back of your head.

“I shouldn’t pull you into my darkness.” he whispers, his voice low and strained as his movements grow more desperate.

His words send a jolt through you, your body clenching tightly around his cock as he lowers his teeth to graze your shoulder. Before you can react he sinks them into your skin leaving the faintest mark before his lips press softly as if to apologize.

The contrast leaves you shaken, a mix of need and fear coursing through you and he drags his teeth along the curve of your neck just below your ear, the sounds of pleasure raw and unrestrained.

The water runs loudly, the steam now filling the room, but nothing distracts you from him—his deep, rough thrusts, the way he presses you harder against the wall with each measured stroke. 

Your hands press the marble harder, your head falling back against his shoulder as his pace quickens, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, as though he’s punishing himself through you.

Your moans fill the space, rising in pitch as he claims you completely, your nails scraping against the marble as you struggle to hold yourself up.

He doesn’t stop, he doesn’t slow, not until your voice falters, a loud cry escaping your lips as the pleasure overtakes you. Your body trembles against him as you orgasm, and his hand moves to your clit, prolonging your release as his hips continue to drive into you.

His deep grunts fill the shower, and as he comes he pushes into you one last time, his movements forceful, his hips pressing hard against you before he finally stills.

His hands slowly slide up your sides as he lowers his head, his breaths labored and uneven against your skin.

The shower is silent except for the steady stream of water cascading down, and you reach forward, turning off the handle as the two of you stand together, catching your breaths.

Slowly, carefully, he pulls out, and as he turns you to face him,his expression is etched with conflict. His eyes, normally so cold and calculated, are clouded with something you can’t quite name—shame, maybe, or something deeper.

“What is it Patrick, tell me what’s wrong.” you ask moving gently, your hands sliding to his shoulders as you begin to peel his soaked suit jacket from him. He blinks, taken aback by the gesture, his sharp features tensing slightly as you move with care.

“You don’t understand,” he says, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m not… I’m not what you think I am.”

You meet his eyes, your expression calm and unwavering. “I know who you are, Patrick,” you say simply, continuing to remove his silk tie and unbutton his shirt letting each piece of clothing fall to the tiles below.

His perfect physique is revealed, the water glistening over his chiseled chest and the deep ridges of his abs. His body is like a sculpture—flawless, commanding, yet now vulnerable under your touch.

Grabbing a towel, you begin drying him off, your hands moving over his broad shoulders and down his arms, the tension in his muscles softening slightly under your touch. You kneel briefly to pat his legs dry, your fingers brushing over the strength of his thighs.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Patrick says, his tone sharper now, almost bitter. “You don’t know the thoughts I have, the things I’ve… indulged in,” he says, looking down at you.

You stand again, your gaze meeting his dazed and unreadable expression. For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of his words and the intensity of his stare pressing down on you.

You shake your head, your voice soft but firm. “Patrick, whatever it is, it can’t be as terrible as you think,” you say confidently.

He stares at you, his jaw tightening, his expression sharp and unreadable. “You think you know me,” he taunts, his voice low and edged with something dangerous. “But you don’t. Because If you did…you wouldn’t be standing here.”

A faint unease creeps into your chest seeing his changed behavior, it’s unsettling, and for the first time, you truly begin to wonder what he’s hiding.

Still, you force yourself to stay composed, reaching for his hands despite the flicker of fear in your mind. “Come with me,” you insist gently, your tone steady but quiet as you take his hands.

You pull him from the shower and guide him into the bedroom. The city lights spill through the window, casting a faint glow across the room, and you pull him down to lay with you on his large, pristine white bed.

Patrick stares blankly at the ceiling, his body close but his mind distant. It’s a rare and unsettling sight, as if he’s momentarily stripped of the control and precision that define him. The faint glow of the city highlights the tension in his jaw and the startling vulnerability in his eyes.

-She doesn’t know—She can’t. If she did, she’d run. She’d scream if she understood what I’ve done—what I am.

-And I would have to silence her.

Hesitantly, almost reluctantly, he turns to you, his movements cautious as though testing the weight of his own decision. His eyes meet yours briefly, yearning for something he doesn’t quite understand.

-This is weakness—Letting her stay—letting her see me like this—this isn’t control. This isn’t power. This is… pathetic.

-Why can’t I just end her.

Without a word, he presses himself against you, his arm draping over your chest, pulling you closer as though being apart from you is unbearable. 

His head rests against your shoulder and the weight of his vulnerability is laid bare in the quiet. His breath is unsteady, his fingers curling against your side as though he’s trying to anchor himself in reality.

It’s a haunting vulnerability, one he’s never shown, and you wonder what could have driven him to this? What terrible things lie buried in the silence between you.

You feel a slight tremor in his body as he buries his face against your neck, his breathing uneven, and you suddenly realize that he’s trembling.

“Oh Patrick “ you whisper trying to comfort him, your hand gently stroking through his damp hair as you hold him closer. 

His pain feels raw, exposed, as if the perfect façade he always wears has finally cracked.

“It’s okay, Patrick,” you reassure him softly, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest.

“It’s not” He shudders, overwhelmed by the intensity of his thoughts, but you hold him tighter.

For the first time, he seems entirely human, and you realize just how much he’s been hiding from the world—and from himself.

In the quiet, dim room, with his body against yours, you feel his intensity subside, his breathing evening out. As he falls asleep, his grip on you doesn’t loosen, and you don’t let him go—desperate to know what he’s done, and terrified of the answer.

END

🔗 Masterlist

Leather & Lace (Work in progress)

Summary Patrick becomes increasingly distant after showing vulnerability—until he invites you over for a late-night rendezvous. You confront him, demanding answers, but instead he pulls you into his depraved world, using you to satisfy his dark and insatiable desires.

🏷️ Always Tag Me

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika@feralgodmothers @psycheetamore @megangovier@magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @thejeywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1@ @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader/3 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @missjadesticsreblog @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog

[shy-nightmare]

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going to make someone smile! Add a heart so we know how long the chain's been going! ❤️🖤💖🤍💚💛💗💙🩶🩵🤍🤎💟💜❣️❤️‍🩹💝🫀💖♥️💘❤️‍🔥💕🩶💜💛🫶💕💖💖💓💞🩷💚🧡💕💙💜🩶❣️❦💑🥰🏩😻❣️🫀🧡♥︎🧡💚🫀💌🩵

I know i haven't been great with replying back to you. It is unfortunately still a tough time on my end 😔😅 but I promise you, I see all of it and I'm so grateful you like me as much as you do 💖💖💖 you're an awesome person and I wish you so much motivation to keep being as creative and positive as you are! ^^

First of all, hi @marinerainbow! 😁😊👋

Second of all, it's OK! 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂 I know things are tough right now, and I understand 😊. Take all the time you need and get lots of rest, it's OK 🫂🫂🫂 I'm just happy you're able to see the stuff I tag you in when you have the chance! 😁

Third of all, OH MY GOD!!! YOU CHOSE ME AGAIN?!?!?!?!?!?! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

You are so sweet and kind, it's shining bright in my eyes!!!

Thank you so much, but why??? 🥺 All I did was hop into your inbox and make you smile with my silly nonsense 🤣🤣🤣. I can only imagine how busy you are, that's why I'm practicing posting only ONE chapter a month. For you, @slashingdisneypasta and everyone else who's interested in my story 😊.

If anything, I should be grateful that YOU like me and think I'm awesome! You, Slashing and Just-Kit-Ink are practically my idols! 😁😁😁 You have been so unbelievably nice to me, I HAVE to repay your generosity in any way I can.

I wish you so much luck, love, and positively in your life! ^^ 💖💖💖

[diagonal-queen]

Since youre inbox tag thingy says “tell me your secrets” thought id spill~

Im in love😇

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WITH YOU BITCH

GET LOVED!

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🩶🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️❣️💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💓💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💘💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝

(The black going to white is like how you brighten my day😌)

- @call-me-albie

thank you babe i love you too <3

its the way i let this sit in my inbox for. like months?? and just.....did not reply......

lemme just

[vrmxlho]

-ˏˋ ur socials as isagi’s gf ˊˎ-

-`♡´- liked by 666666, megsbachira and 698 others

yn: hello? 911? someone's burning down my fucking kitchen

tagged: isagi_11

isagi_11: nobody appreciates me here

↳ 666666: yeah lol

↳ isagi_11: nagi pls get a fucking life, like please i'm begging you

↳ yn: stop fighting under my post or i'll cut your throats 🥰

megsbachira: how do you tag people?

megsbachira: ik y'all are seeing this guys how the fuck do i tag people?

itoshi_rin: please get this off my feed

↳ yn: you don't need to comment on every single one of my posts 😒

↳ itoshi_rin: what can i say, i like spreading hate

-`♡´- liked by 666666, mikage and 712 others

yn: bros tryna photobomb my dog's fucking photoshoot ☹️☹️

tagged: isagi_11

megsbachira: can you just send me a screen recording of you tagging ppl i need to know 😐

isagi_11: i MADE the photoshoot

↳ yn: don't lie love 😞

chigiri: i'm not a big fan of the photo ngl

↳ yn: sorry to disappoint, i blame it all on yoi***

↳ chigiri: yeah don't let that happen again

↳ isagi_11: booo 👎👎

mikage: when did y'all get a dog???

↳ yn: it's been like two years????

↳ isagi_11: reo you deadass bought it's collar 😭😭

↳ mikage: i don't remember all my purchases 💀

-`♡´- liked by kaisersexc, chigiri and 1.3k others

isagi_11: SHE DON'T KNOW HOW TO SWIM LMAOOO

tagged: yn

yn: why would you say such a thing

yn: THIS IS DEFAMATION OF CHARACTER DO YOU KNOW HOW HARMFUL THAT IS?

↳ isagi_11: no, but you could tell me over dinner 😉

↳ yn: i don't ever wanna be near you ever again

↳ isagi_11: ramen?

↳ yn: mmm ok, but only because i'm a very generous and charitable person 😒

↳ isagi_11: i just think you have a crush on me 🤭

↳ yn: more lies 😥

megsbachira: what if you taught me how to tag people 🥺🥺🥺

-`♡´- liked by itoshi_rin, mikage and 987 others

yn: my one and only <33

tagged: isagi_11

isagi_11: me n you @fifa

↳ yn: is that so? 🤔

↳ 666666: YEAH GET HIS ASS!!

↳ isagi_11: jokes yk 🤗🤗🤣🤣

↳ yn: what if we jokingly break up 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️😂

↳ isagi_11: LOLLL 😭😭😭😭

↳ isagi_11: please don’t

megsbachira: he **will** be your one and only once i remove you from my life 😐

↳ yn: megs what’s gotten into you ☹️☹️

↳ megsbachira: JUST TEACH ME HOW TO TAG MY GOD ITS BEEN MONTHS

↳ yn: just press “tagged people” before you post and then add them 😭😭😭

↳ megsbachira: oh, it was that easy…

↳ megsbachira: thanks

↳ yn: 😭😭

-`♡´- liked by megsbachira, eggod and 2.4k others

isagi_11: happy birthday angel i love you so so much, i have searched dictionaries to find words to describe how i feel yet the only conclusion i’ve come to is that it’s indescribable

p.s. thank you prada for making this dress so easy to rip off ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tagged: yn

yn: my poor dress ☹️

↳ isagi_11: i’ll get you another one

↳ yn: 💕💞🫶❤️💗💖

666666: TMI!!!!

yn: you’re so cute

↳ isagi_11: no you <333

↳ eggod: please stfu 😭😭

↳ yn: eita kys

↳ eggod: no you <333 🥺🥺

itoshirin: which poet did you steal this from?

↳ isagi_11: nicki minaj

[mindofharry]

SOCIAL MEDIA BLURB!

harry x poc indian actress!y/n

☄. *. ⋆

liked by harrystyles, tayrussell and five million others.

yourinstagram thank you to whoever caught this moment. i never thought i would see myself up on the big screen, it’s more than a dream come true. i hope you love pearl as much as i do. she’s truly amazing.

view all comments

harryfan89 i can’t believe harry gets to date her

harryfan0 she’s so cute i love her

ynfan34 i saw it !!! it’s amazing !!!!

harrystyles ❤️

yourinstagram <3

ynandharryfan7 forever obsessed with them

tayrussell love u 🪷❤️‍🔥🔪

yourinstagram i love you more

harryfan67 so beautiful

ynfan77 the dress 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

liked by harryfan78, ynfan203 and two thousand others.

ynandharryupdates Y/N WALKING OUT OF THE ARENA AFTER THE CONCERT TONIGHT!

view all comments

harryfan3 when does she not look beautiful

harryfan89 shouldn’t she be promoting her movie?

ynfan65 she is. let her have a personal life too.

ynfan34 the fact that her and harry are going to get married

harryfan12 she’s ugly

ynandharryfan78 and you can yourself a fan? 🙄

liked by yourinstagram, ynfan89 and 10 thousand others.

ynupdates harry being the cutest partner and telling people to go see y/n’s new movie pearl 🥹🥹

view all comments

ynfan89 SHE LIKED !!!

ynfan22 if he wanted to, he would guys!

yourinstagram my heart ♥️

ynupdates OH MY GOD

harryfan78 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

ynfan78 he’s too cute

ynfan89 harry is so supportive i want him

harryfan67 i loved pearl but i love her earlier films in bollywood a little more

liked by gemmastyles, harrystyles and 20 million others.

yourinstagram pink for pearl ! 💕💐🌸💖💞

view all comments

gemmastyles beautiful sissy

yourinstagram miss u 🥹

harryfan78 oh my god

ynfan67 i love you and this look 😭

harrystyles gorgeous xxx

yourinstagram ♥️♥️♥️

ynandharryfan now this is camp

pillowpersonpp wow ❤️

pillowpersonpp so beautiful 💐💐

yourinstagram 🥹🫶

liked by annetwist, gemmastyles and 50 million others.

harrystyles so fucking proud of you. PEARL IN THEATRES NOW!

tagged: yourinstagram

view all comments

yourinstagram sobbing

harryfan67 she’s so me coded

annetwist proud is an understatement!

ynfan89 from bollywood to a24. range.

harryandyn framing this

gemmastyles same

ynfan23 she’s beautiful

harryfan78 saw it !! it was so fucking good !!

-

-

[kyberblade]

Somehow we’re here, and I need to take a look around….

Well, guys, as Back To You draws closer to an end, (don’t worry, there’s still the sequels, it’s far from over - and we still have mayyyyybe 5 or so chapters left….) I’m starting to get a bit sad and nostalgic.

This has been such a journey. And while it isn’t goodbye goodbye, it’s still an end to a part of it, and it makes me sad. 😩

Looking back, I realized, this journey has been filled with people, more than anything else, and I wanted to take a moment to touch on that.

I know I’m going to forget people, and if I do, I am so sorry. Know that I DO remember you, I am just really horrible with names, truly.

These are just some of the amazing people I’ve met along the way on this journey, and I don’t know what I would do without you.

*deep breath, here we go….*

@grippingbeskar - I really blame you for all of this nonsense. You got me into this mess. And I love you for it. ❤️

@fordo-kixed-rex - You’ve helped me in so many ways, and we talk every. Day. I don’t know what I would do without you, friend. 🩵

@littlemisspascal - You’ve been so kind to me every step of the way, and your tags have always made me smile! Your lists are a blessing to this fandom and you are a gift to everyone. Thank you for all you do, and for being you. 💗

@what-the-heckin-heck - I love screaming with you. I love brainstorming with you. There are so many things I love doing with you, I can’t even list them all here. 💜

@dontletyourchildrenwatchthis - You are responsible for brilliance such as, “You snore like a kriffing bantha.” And I have laughed so so so hard every time you come up with these gems. You get me. ✨ 💛

@lloweryourstandardss - We’ve only talked a few times really, and I know it isn’t much, but we’ve brainstormed, and you’ve gotten back into writing some yourself, and I’m so excited to see what you’ve got! You make me laugh so hard! 💖

@multifandomsw - You encouraged me at the very beginning to “just post it”, and I’ve never looked back. Thank you, friend. I hear your voice each time I post a new chapter, and I smile. 💕

@aesnawan - You brought these characters to life for me, and I can never thank you enough. What you’ve created is truly beautiful and I love love love to stare at it. It’s not enough, but thank you, from the bottom of my heart. 🧡

Some people I’ve talked to a few times but I’m horrible at maintaining a convo sometimes but know that I value what you have to say and you’ve made me smile like a fool many times over - @eeopxlt @yourcoolauntie @lam-ila @i-own-loki @kurlyfrasier @silver-pieces @heyitsaloy @professionalfangrrl @hoodedbirdie @nghtwngs @queenmalhinewahine @come-hell-or-eldren-fire @qweenrogerina @pxl8ed @jxvipike @itzagothamcitysiren @cheoriemoawa @dilfsaremyfavourite @thereaperisabitch @djarintreble @dilf-din @sexysquatch 🩷

If we’ve talked and I forgot you - I’M SO SORRY!!! Even if we never talked and you just commented on something of mine, or simply liked or reblogged, know you made me smile so big, and I remember the feeling, if not your name. I literally can be the worst with names, but know I think of all my past convos and smile. I know I keep saying that but AHHHHHHH! It’s true. I value each and every one of you, and am beyond honored you’ve chosen to go on this journey with me. Thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. ❤️‍🔥💞

[whydousernamesevenexist]

Thank you thank you aaaaaa this made me smile so much <333

Get loved as well, asshole /aff

Also everyone else get loved 🩶🩵💜🩷💗🤍🖤🤎❤️🧡💛💚💙💖💝💘💓💞💕💟♥️❣️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥🫂🫀🫶🏻

(I'm on my tablet rn and don't have my tag list but if you see this, get loved <333)

eyyyy to all my moots and literally anyone who sees this, hope your day was good :) if it wasn't, drink a bit of water, try opening a window to get some fresh air in your lungs, breathe deep for a min, and all that stuff. also, meds and fruit and cozy blankets if you need em!!! im sending love your way, it should be there any minute now, just you wait

hope this makes you feel better than you were before <3

oh im also gonna tag some of yall because i know people forget they are loved. so: @starkayezer @isalikescherriesandblue @hotteststar @whydousernamesevenexist @dont-turn-left @equippedtolove @somanyquestions-featuringanxiety @cool-lesbian-is-here @charliecow @the-moon-and-stars-4ever @swimmingclass1978 @strawberrystainedfingertips7 @sunsstars @dutifullynervouscreation @motivationequaldead89 @walkingtalkingfrog @uhhlifeig

yes this is for you. it's quite literally for everyone on here but i appreciate you so so muchhhh!!! get loved assholes!!!!! (affectionate, ofc<3)

[destroyyaa]

I posted 12,566 times in 2022

22 posts created (0%)

12,544 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mcrbois

@skeleton-orb

@bailey1rox

@celeritaschronicles

@againstmeme

I tagged 1,306 of my posts in 2022

#neon genesis evanquelion - 176 posts

#slipknot - 171 posts

#paging dr catmaidgirlfriend - 85 posts

#ff7 - 77 posts

#mcr - 52 posts

#jackass - 47 posts

#bam - 23 posts

#good stuff - 21 posts

#asks - 18 posts

#the batman - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#more strawbs for you 💖💖 🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

supernatural! unless someone asked that then devil may cry!

Oh I am absolutely doing both lmao ok first, supernatural:

Blorbo (favourite character, character I think about the most):

Dean… I will always be a dean girl ahsjshskakk

Scrunkly (my baby, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped):

Castiel, absolute angelic himbo

Scrimblo bimblo (underrated/under appreciated fave):

Jo, I’m still so mad she died omg 😭😭😭😭 and Kevin 💖💖💖

Glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week):

ADAM! my boy deserves justice I’m glad he came back for like the final few episodes ;w;

Poor little meow meow (problematic/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave):

Balthazar, Gabriel or just like any of the original angel crew from seasons 4/5

Horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason):

Sam… I just really don’t like him the later seasons made him so boring :(((

Eeby deeby (character I would send to super hell):

Metatron, I couldn’t stand him from the first moment he was on screen blech also John Winchester, all my homies hate John Winchester

Next up, devil may cry:

Blorbo (favourite character, character I think about the most):

reboot Dante, like actually obsessed with him…. He’s been living rent free in my head since January 2013 💖💖💖💖❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🖤🖤🖤🧡🧡💚💜💛💚💙💙💜🤎🤎❤️❤️❤️🧡🧡💛💚💜💙💜🤎🤎❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥💝💝💘💘💓💗💞💞💝♥️♥️❣️💕❣️❣️❣️

Scrunkly (my baby, character that gives me cuteness aggression, character that is So Shaped):

Kat and lady and Trish just all 3,,,,, so fucking good

Scrimblo bimblo (underrated/under appreciated fave):

Nico! As much as dmc5 kinda bored me in parts nico was the right level of unhinged love her 💖💖💖

Glup shitto (obscure fave, character that can appear in the background for 0.2 seconds and I won’t shut up about it for a week):

Eva! From both the reboot and original series she just really wanted to protect her kids ;w;

Poor little meow meow (problematic/unpopular/controversial/otherwise pathetic fave):

Dmc3 specific Vergil, he is my fave lil moody asshole

Horse plinko (character I would torment for fun, for whatever reason):

Jester….(is his name jester I can’t fuckin remember the clown from dmc3 lol)

See the full post

3 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

#4

I got 5 teeth pulled on Friday and all I've wanted to eat the whole time is fish

3 notes - Posted June 4, 2022

#3

I was tagged by the ever lovely @dontcryonmyporch ! Thank you for the tag

See the full post

3 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

#2

Oh the Americans aren't getting today's wordle

7 notes - Posted February 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Have a Joey

14 notes - Posted March 14, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[fabledgalaxies]

When I first joined tumblr I really didn’t expect to get any interaction from the fable fandom on here. I didn’t even expect followers! I thought “[Redacted], you’re just going to quit this site and never look back because it has old art. You’re not going to get recognized.” but here I am, almost a year later. posting my OCs, my fable headcanons, my personal things, and other media I’m into and I…feel at home. This site. Feels. Like. Home. Thank you @for-the-love-of-avo, @uncandy-canny, @hi-there-cake, and @atoijan (and everyone else who I forgot to tag, ily) for being the people who have interacted with me and kept me motivated to keep posting!!!! (and for putting up with my silly little infodumps. It really really REALLLLY means a lot!!!)

I mean it when I say my stims from this site have all been good stims. I’ve squeaked, squealed, flapped my hands, wiggled my foot, thrown myself forward, rolled around, and flopped back so many times because of these interactions!

happy Valentine’s Day this is my declaration of love and appreciation 💕❤️✨💖💗💓💞💝❤️‍🔥

[feng-xunlu]

AHHHHHHHHSDKJGADJGALJGgggggg-- ..... Thanks🫠🥹

Sorry, I was so late to answer, but really many thanks ✨✨✨✨!!!

erm, let me see, I'll tag some of those I have done cool stuff with- Even if just a little-

You too @soukokumychildren ! - @cherllyio ! - @alilcherry ! - @tyrasanege @dinmorerjulemanden @daimadiamante @glitchypotato3000 @peasantflour @m0nkienerd !

'kay that's almost 10-

ahhh, @soukokumychildren you didn't add a heart- I will do it for ya— Do you like green? It's all over your blog- You get a green heart. I will take the sparkle heart ofc-

❤️🖤💖🤍💚💛💗💙🩶🩵🤍🤎💓💙💝💚💘💜💕❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️🫀❤️🧡💚 💝💞💟 💚💖

Add a heart to keep the chain going!

Send to 10 other bloggers you think are wonderful. Keep this going and make someone smile! Add a heart so we know how long the chains been going! ❤️🖤💖🤍💚💛💗💙🩶🩵🤍🤎💓💙💝💚💘💜💕❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹❣️🫀❤️🧡💚 💝💞💟

um um um um um *Frantically looking around* Who the fuck is wonderful around here???? @antisocialpyromaniac @lu-zijing You!?

[howdoyousleep3]

GREENBERG’S ABO TAG IS MY FAVORITE!! i’ve read everything on that blog a thousand times it never fails to make my heart just 💗❤️💕💖💘❤️‍🔥💓💞 im so glad they’re back and posting again, it truly a gift to this fandom! and (here’s a little secret) i’ve always wondered if you two know about each other’s blogs cause you’re the only ones i have notifications turned on for. i even have shortcuts that take me straight to your blogs. this is my crossover event i’m so happy you like their work too!!

Right?? When I need that good good I go right to their blog. It's such a lovely place. A true gift, you are so correct!

Nonnie. 🥺 Notifications? My heart! I've never talked to them or reached out or sent in Asks but I am very aware of their work! I'm flattered, bb. Thank you! 💕

[feralgodmothers]

“He’s close enough now that you can see the faint freckles dusting his cheeks,”

I’M SUCH A SUCKER FOR HIS FRECKLES YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME I’M GONNA GO INTO CARDIAC ARREST

“He’s affectionate even now, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours, and he takes his time, drawing out every sensation until you’re trembling for him.”

“He’s still so handsome, even more so now with his hair slightly rustled and his cheeks flushed.”

BRO

Before the Night Out

Label mature 18+

Summary Heading out for a night with friends, Austin makes sure you’re thoroughly satisfied before he leaves.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin doting boyfriend • teasing • his princess • dirty talk • sweet talk • kiss it better • oral on fem • fingering • orgasm • after care

🔗 Masterlist ✨ Inspo new pics

Before the Night Out

The Los Angeles evening outside of Austin’s home radiates with the low buzz of city lights and distant traffic. Inside, the air is warm, scented with the faint bergamot and orange blossoms of his cologne, a fragrance so divine it stays in the back of your mind, making you ache for him even when he’s not around.

He’s in the bedroom getting ready for a night out with his friends, and you’re sprawled on the couch, a throw blanket tangled around your legs, trying not to sulk.

But you are. You hate when he leaves, even for a few hours, because the house feels too quiet without his easy laugh or the way he hums under his breath when he thinks you’re not listening.

The bathroom door swings open, and you watch as Austin steps out, a white towel gripped low around his hips, droplets of water glistening on his chest. His hair is damp, slicked back, and as his eyes meet yours, a fleeting knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he closes the bedroom door.

Your mind reels, the sight of him intensifying the ache you’re already feeling, and you shift under the blanket, wishing he’d stay home.

When Austin finally emerges from the bedroom your breath catches because he looks so good. His long sleeve white tee hugs his chest just right, the fabric soft and slightly worn, over his faded baby blue jeans that sit low on his hips.

His black leather boots scuff lightly on the hardwood floor as he moves, and one of his favorite Carhartt jackets, powder blue with a bright orange lining hangs open, giving him that effortless edge.

A thin silver chain glints at his collarbone catching the light, and his hair, growing back after a recent role, is soft and a little tousled, begging for your fingers to run through it. He’s handsome in a way that feels unfair, like he’s walked out of some sunlit dream, and the sight of him makes your chest tighten.

“You’re pouting again,” he says, voice low and teasing, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he leans against the kitchen counter, arms crossed. His blue eyes spark with mischief, and you can tell he’s enjoying this a little too much.

“I’m not,” you mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around you, but your lips betray you, curling into a little frown. You’re not fooling anyone, least of all him.

“Yes you are,” he drawls, pushing off the counter and sauntering over to you, his boots thudding softly with each step, and the scent of his cologne grows stronger, wrapping around you. He stops just in front of the couch, towering over you, and he tilts his head, studying you in a way that makes your stomach flip. “Look at that lip.” he grins his eyes glinting with smug satisfaction.

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks heat up under his gaze. “You’re leaving me here all alone again,” you pout, your voice softer now, a little whiny despite yourself.

Austin chuckles, the sound rich and warm, and he lowers down on his knees in front of you, his hands finding your thighs over the blanket. His touch is firm but gentle, thumbs rubbing slow circles that send a shiver up your spine.

“Poor baby,” he coos, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “You gonna survive a couple hours without me, or should I cancel on the guys and stay here and hold your hand?”

“Don’t tease,” you huff, but you’re already leaning into him, drawn in to his warmth, his scent, the way his hands slide up your thighs, pushing the blanket aside. His fingers are calloused but tender, and you can feel the heat of them through your thin leggings.

“Who’s teasing?” he says, voice dropping an octave, his eyes darkening as they lock onto yours. He’s close enough now that you can see the faint freckles dusting his cheeks, the way his lashes frame those impossibly blue eyes.

“You know I’d rather stay here with you, but I promised the guys. Gotta keep up appearances, y’know.” He says, but there’s a softness in his expression, an affection that makes your heart stutter.

“Don’t go,” you whisper, half-serious, reaching out to tug lightly at the chain necklace resting against his chest, the metal cool under your fingertips, compared to the warmth of his skin.

Austin catches your hand, bringing it to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your palm. “You’re making this real hard, baby,” he says, voice husky now, his lips brushing against your skin with every word. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m not gonna make it out the door.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” you shoot back, a spark of defiance in your eyes, your resolve faltering under the weight of his gaze, and his hands slide higher, slipping under the hem of your shirt to graze the bare skin of your waist.

He smiles leaning in to kiss you, slow and soft, his lips warm and tasting faintly of the mint gum he was chewing earlier. His kiss deepens, and you melt into him, your hands finding his shoulders, fingers digging into the course fabric of his jacket. When he pulls back, you’re a little breathless, and his grin is pure trouble.

“Tell you what,” he says, his voice low and intimate, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m not leaving until you’re satisfied. Can’t have my girl pouting all night, can I?”

Before you can respond, he’s tugging the blanket down completely, his hands swift and sure as they find the waistband of your leggings.

Your breath catches, as you grab his wrists, half-excited, half-nervous. “Austin, you’re gonna be late,” you say, but there’s no real protest in your voice, not when he’s looking at you like that, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.

“They can wait,” he says, leaning in as his lips brush the shell of your ear sending a jolt of heat through you. “I’ll take care of you first.”

He peels your leggings down with your panties, his hands warm against your skin and he kisses you again, softer this time, but there’s an edge beneath it, a promise of what’s to come.

His lips trail down your throat, your chest, your stomach, and as he lowers between your thighs you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you. His intoxicating fragrance fills your senses and his hair is soft under your fingers as you tug lightly, earning a low groan from him that vibrates against your skin.

“Austin you smell so good,” you praise, half-dazed, as his cologne envelops you, mingling with the warmth of his breath against your thighs.

“Could say the same about you,” he teases, glancing up at you with a wicked grin before his lips find you, and the world narrows to the heat of his mouth, and the slow, roll of his tongue.

He’s affectionate even now, one hand reaching up to lace his fingers with yours, and he takes his time, drawing out every sensation until you’re trembling for him.

He pulls back just enough to tease you a smug grin on his lips. “Still mad I’m leaving?” he asks, his voice a low, vibration that sends a pulse through you, and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him back between your thighs.

“Shut up,” you manage, breathless, and he chuckles, the sound muffled as he dives back in, more focused now, more intense. It’s overwhelming, the way he knows exactly what you need, the way he gives it to you without hesitation.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he makes a soft sound of approval, your grip spurring him on until you’re unraveling, your breath coming in sharp gasps, as your body arcs to his mouth.

His tongue lashes your clit, fast and ravenous as his fingers slide in, curling hard and deep the dual assault making your hips push against his mouth.

His tongue flicks faster, his fingers thrusting mercilessly until you orgasm, moaning loudly, and he devours you through every pulse, every shudder leaving you overwhelmed and utterly satisfied.

When he pulls back you’re limp, sinking back into the couch breathless, and he kisses his way up your body, his lips lingering at your jaw near your mouth.

His grin is smug but fond, as he trails his fingers along your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Feel Better?” he asks, his voice soft but still teasing.

You nod, too blissed out to form a proper response, your eyes heavy as you look at him. He’s still so handsome, even more so now with his hair slightly rustled and his cheeks flushed.

“You’re awful,” you mumble, but there’s no heat in it only affection.

“Awful, huh?” He echoes, leaning in to kiss you again quick and playful. “Pretty sure you love me for it.”

You do, god, you do. You watch him as he stands adjusting his jacket, smoothing a hand through his hair and he glances at his phone, cursing softly under his breath.

“Definitely late,” he says, but he’s smiling, like it’s worth it. He grabs his keys from the counter, the jingle of them sharp in the quiet house, and turns to you one last time.

“Be good while I’m gone,” he says, pointing a finger at you in a tone with mock-sternness. “No more pouting.”

“No promises,” you reply, your voice lazy, and he laughs, the sound lingering as he opens the door. He gives you one last look, all warmth and smiles, and then he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

The house is quiet now, too quiet, but you’re still buzzing your body warm and sated. You pull the blanket back over you, sinking into the couch, and smile to yourself. You hate when he leaves, but damn if he doesn’t make it worth it.

END 🌃

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty @louisejoy86 @butlerrizz @kulturalismellektermek

[feralgodmothers]

AAAAAAHHHHH THE TENSION

“How’d you prep for a role this intense?” you ask, crossing your legs, and you notice how his gaze flicks down for a split second to catch it.

UUUUUGGGHHHH THIS WAS SO GOOD

When the tension finally snaps and they give in and go for it

The Interviewer

Label Mature 18+

Summary It’s your first season as a red carpet interviewer, and everything is going according to plan until you meet the devastatingly handsome Austin Butler, and it alters your career entirely.

💝Romantic Smut💝 Austin x interviewer •meet cute• slow burn • friends to lovers • breaking the rules • Austin pursuing • forced encounter• revealing true feelings• cat and mouse • playing hard to get• teasing •sweet talk • dirty talk• stay the night? • passionate p in V • size kink• oral on fem• multiple orgasms • protection• after care 🔗 Masterlist

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine ✨ Inspo via multiple requests 💕

The Interviewer

The red carpet is like a row of chaos, glamour, and flashing lights popping like fireworks. You stand at the edge of it all, microphone in hand, your heart racing with excitement for your new gig.

It’s awards season your first as a celebrity red carpet interviewer, and you are thriving.

Your nails are sharp cherry-red, freshly manicured, catching the light as you adjust your earpiece. Your makeup is flawless, a bold cat-eye and glossy lip that pops against the shimmering black gown that hugs your curves just right.

You’re vibrant, sharp, and you know you look phenomenal. Celebrities glide by, and you lure them in with ease, a bright smile, your quick wit, a subtle flick of your wrist. They can’t resist. But tonight at the International Film Festival, something shifts.

Austin Butler, nominee for Best Actor, steps onto the carpet like he owns it. He’s dressed in a tailored black suit, with a black tie and crisp white shirt.

His hair’s slicked back, golden strands catching the light, and those lashes..god, those lashes ..frame his eyes so blue they could drown you.

You lock eyes with him across the crowd, and it’s instant, a jolt straight to your heart. He smirks, a slow, easy thing, and starts walking your way.

“You look so lovely,” he says when he reaches you, his voice deep and sincere. It’s not just a line…it’s a confession from him, and it makes your knees weak.

His aura is immaculate, warm, magnetic, and you almost forget you’re at work. Your heart beats faster, but you play it cool, tilting your head with a smile.

“Thank you that’s so kind,” you say, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “You look amazing yourself, Mr. Nominee.”

He grins, as his gaze lingers. “I try my best. It’s my first time seeing you out here.”

“Yea I’m new,” you admit adjusting your earpiece, and his eyes search yours, deep and unwavering tracking every small move you make. “Well Austin, congratulations on the Oscar nod.” you say, trying to keep your composure as your heart pounds from his attention. “How does it feel?”

“Feels like a dream,” he says shifting closer, the scent of him, woodsy, clean, and luxurious wrapping around you. His voice is like velvet as it drops a little lower, “But honestly… I’m more interested in how you’re holding up on your first night.”

“First season,” you correct him with a sly grin, “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, and the way he looks at you makes you think he’s hooked, you’re resisting his charms and he likes it…. and you like him for liking it.

Over the next few weeks, you see him everywhere: Golden Globes, SAG Awards, Critics Choice. Each time, he’s dressed immaculately: a black satin lined suit one night, a deep navy tuxedo another, always sharp, always effortless. You switch it up too, a slinky red gown, shimmery gold mini-dress, a plunging black number that makes his eyes widen when he spots you.

You build a friendship, a playful attraction starting with you teasing him about his “serious actor face” at the Golden Globes and by the Oscar Awards, you’ve got an inside joke. Whenever you ask about his “process,” he smolders you as you speak, dropping that heart-stopping stare until you stutter and fumble your words, then he flashes a mischievous, boyish smile that undoes you completely.

“Austin! You’re so distracting when you do that!” you laugh, mic lowered, and he grins all charm.

“You love it,” he shoots back, his voice flirty, eyes locked on yours like he already knows you think about him non stop.

And you do, you love how every word he speaks is filled with intention, how he searches your eyes like he’s memorizing you. It’s effortless now, the way he talks to you, like you’re the only one he has eyes for, even if it’s only on the carpet.

After awards season, your boss calls you over, a gleam in her eye. “Austin Butler’s people reached out. They want you for a full sit-down interview, for his new film Caught Stealing. It’ll be on the website—huge exposure. I know it’s not your interview style but he’s asked for you personally, are you in?” she asks.

Your heart leaps. “Are you kidding? Yes!” You answer and you’re beaming, practically vibrating. Austin’s is your favorite celebrity. Kind, sweet, always playful…and now you get him all to yourself? You’re over the moon.

The day arrives you’re at the studio, dressed in a sleek lavender blazer and matching skirt, wearing heels that accentuate your legs.

The backdrop screams Caught Stealing, all gritty neon vibes and graffiti, and when Austin walks in he’s with his team, but he’s not in his usual sleek suits and red carpet outfits.

He’s in a casual charcoal tee, tight enough to show off his shoulders, paired with black denim jeans that hug his legs just right.

He’s ruggedly handsome now, his hair shorter, more brunette, and his smile — god, his smile when he sees you, lights up the entire room. You’re beaming too, unable to help it, and he walks straight for you pulling you into a hug.

“My favorite person,” he grins against your ear, and his words make you smile even harder. He smells incredible, clean, warm, something expensive, and the strength in his biceps makes you melt a second before you catch yourself.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a grin. “I was gonna say the same about you,” you admit, and he bites his lip, his eyes twinkling as he holds your gaze a little longer. There’s a sudden shyness there, something you hadn’t noticed before and it makes him even more charming.

His hands linger on your arms before you both sit down, the air between you charged with excitement. The interview starts smoothly as he settles in crossing his legs, and his eyes never leave yours as you begin.

“So, Caught Stealing—Darren Aronofsky, Zoe Kravitz, you’re in the thick of it. What drew you in to this one?” you ask, leaning in, genuinely curious.

“It’s raw,” he says, rubbing his jaw, his fingers brushing subtly as he thinks. “Darren’s got this vision, gritty, chaotic, real. And Zoe? She’s a wild card. Keeps me on my toes.” His says eyes locked on yours, and there’s that smoldering edge again, like he’s daring you to react but you remain calm.

“How’d you prep for a role this intense?” you ask, crossing your legs, and you notice how his gaze flicks down for a split second to catch it.

“Lots of late nights,” he says, leaning in, his voice dropping. “Digging into the character’s headspace. Lot of the scenes I was wondering how far I could take it to blend that line between dangerous and professional,” He says, and as his eyes flick up to yours, you definitely feel the heat creeping up your neck this time.

You laugh trying to play it off, “Did Zoe give you any tips? There are a lot of heavily charged scenes between you two.”

“She was too busy being a badass,” he says, smirking in that lazy, devastating kind of way that feels like it’s just for you. “But I’d rather hear your tips,” he adds, his voice dropping just slightly. “You’re asking some really good interview questions what’s your process.” He grins.

The compliment hangs between you, and the way he’s looking at you makes it feel like he’s thinking about anything but the movie.

You move slightly in your seat, trying to stay composed under his gaze. “I just have a knack for it,” you say with a little shrug flashing a flirty grin. “I love figuring out what makes people light up… what pulls the realness out of them.”

His hand rests on his chin as he sits back, his thumb brushing his bottom lip, and you realize he’s checking you out, full-on, in front of everyone and your pulse races.

The crew notices too, you can hear them whispering, feel their interest growing, but neither you or Austin care.

“Am I doing a good job?” you tease lightly, your voice playful as you try not to show your nerves.

His smile widens, all handsome mischief. “I love the way you interview me,” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, his eyes searing into yours with the intensity of his smoldering stare.

You swallow, heart pounding in your chest seeing he really going for it.

“You’re trouble,” you say, half-laughing, half-serious.

“Only for you,” he shoots back without hesitation, and it’s shameless now… the way he’s hitting on you… the way he’s already decided.

When the interview wraps, he doesn’t let it end.

“Hey,” he says, standing as you do, his voice softer now. “You free after this? Drinks or Something?”

You understand his intention.

“Yeah. Drinks sound good.” you grin

It’s not just drinks.

A few hours later, after you’ve changed into a soft, low-cut black top and fitted jeans, you’re at his hotel rooftop, some sleek, modern tower with low lights, smooth music, and a view that doesn’t even register because all you see is him.

Austin leans casually against the railing, a glass of something amber, maybe bourbon in his hand, the city lights flickering behind him. His charcoal t-shirt stretches across his broad chest, his jeans accentuating his narrow waist, and an easy devastating smile forms on his lips.

He holds his bourbon in one hand as he offers your second drink when it arrives. “Vesper martini?” he says, his voice low as he grins.

“Perfect,” you say, taking it from him, your fingers brushing his, the glass cool and heavy in your hand.

You both stand there for a minute, letting the silence settle, the kind that feels good and charged with everything unsaid.

“This feels illegal,” you joke, staring out over the glittering city. “Interviewers aren’t supposed to fraternize with the talent.”

He laughs, low and amused. “Good thing I’m not just the talent anymore.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? What are you then?”

He takes a slow sip from his bourbon glass, those blue eyes never leaving yours. “Someone who’s been thinking about you ever since that night at the International Film Festival.”

You almost choke on your drink. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.” He says simply, and the seriousness in his tone makes your stomach flip.

You turn to face him fully, your hip resting against the railing. “You’re too good at this Austin” you tease, eyes narrowing.

He smiles, wicked and knowing. “Just for you.”

You both laugh, but the air between you shifts again, heavier, closer. He sets his glass down on the ledge without looking away from you.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he says, voice dipping lower. “You really are incredible at what you do. You’re smart, quick… it’s insanely attractive to me.”

You blink, thrown for a second by the bluntness. “Insanely attractive?”

“Yeah.” He steps closer, closing the space between you, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist. “The way you hold your own out there? The way you look at people, like you’re really seeing them? It’s rare. And it’s dangerous.”

You smirk, feeling bold from the martini and from the way he’s looking at you like he’s insatiable. “Dangerous how?”

He leans in, and his voice intimidate now, just for you. “Because it makes me want to tell you everything….give you everything.” he confesses.

Your heart pounds so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

“You don’t even know me,” you whisper, your voice catching.

He smiles slow, tilting his head. “I want to.”

You search his face, the sincerity in his eyes, the heat simmering just underneath,and it’s like something inside you snaps. You’re tired of pretending you don’t feel it too.

You step closer, until your chest pressing his. “Then kiss me,” you say, your voice barely a breath.

He doesn’t hesitate.

His hand slides up your jaw, tilting your chin up, and then his mouth covers yours, warm, soft, hungry.

You softly whimper against him, and he deepens it instantly, his hand threading into your hair, the other anchoring at your waist like he’s been waiting for this as long as you have.

The city disappears. The rooftop, the cool breeze, the hum of traffic,all of it falls away. There’s only him, his mouth on yours, his hands pulling you closer like he can’t get enough.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless.

“I’m going to get so fired for this,” you whisper softly.

“Then quit,” he says, grinning, his thumb stroking your cheek.

You look up at him, grinning back, already begging for more without even meaning to.

Austin smiles, a slow wrecking smile, and leans in again, just brushing the tip of his nose against yours, teasing you like he’s not ready to give in yet.

“You hungry?” he asks, his voice filled with something deeper.

“Starving,” you admit …but you’re not sure if it’s for the food… or for him.

He grins, stepping back reluctantly, dragging his hand down your arm like he can’t stop touching you. He grabs a couple of menus from a low table by the wall.

“Room service, or rooftop?” he smirks, his tone loaded with suggestion.

You catch the hint toward room service, and laugh, your heart still racing from the kiss. “Rooftop,” you say sweetly, just to toy with him, letting him know he’s not getting you that easily.

He looks at you like you just altered some set plan he had in mind, and you can’t help but enjoy the flicker of surprise, and then the easy affection that warms his face.

Minutes later, you’re sitting side by side on a cushy outdoor couch, a plate of tacos between you, a drink in each of your hands. It’s casual, comfortable, the kind of easy that only happens when the chemistry’s real.

You bump your shoulder into his. “You know, this isn’t exactly how I thought tonight would go.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh yeah? What did you think was gonna happen?”

“I thought…” you toy with your glass, feeling a little shy for the first time. “I thought I’d get a good interview. Maybe a nice photo. Then go home and look at the footage while eating microwave popcorn.”

Austin chuckles, low and warm. “Yeah? Not rooftop tacos and questionable life decisions?”

You turn your head and catch his gaze. “Not the worst decision I’ve made,” you say, smiling.

He sets his drink down, turning to face you fully, one arm draped casually along the back of the couch, so close his fingers graze your shoulder.

“I’m glad you came,” he says simply. “Been wanting more than just quick hellos and five-minute interviews with you for a while.”

Your heart stutters as he leans in slightly, searching your eyes. “You’re not like the others,” he says quietly. “You’re not playing a part. You don’t fake your laugh. You’re just… you. And that’s rare as hell out here.”

You swallow hard, emotions crowding your throat. You weren’t expecting this. You thought maybe it was just a fleeting interest … but there’s weight behind his words, something real.

You lean your head back against the couch, studying him in the soft rooftop lighting.

“You know,” you say slowly, “you’re not exactly what I expected either.”

His lips tilt into a lazy, curious smile. “No?”

“I thought you’d be… I don’t know. Cocky. Untouchable.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “And instead?”

You nudge his knee with yours. “Instead, you’re real. And annoyingly charming.”

“Annoyingly?” he teases, nudging you back.

“Painfully,” you deadpan, but you’re grinning too big to pull it off.

He laughs again, that real, gorgeous sound and it fills you up, wrapping around you like a blanket against the cool night air.

There’s a long, slow moment where you both just look at each other. No games, no cameras , just you and him.

His hand trails lightly along your arm, his fingers tracing the inside of your wrist, sending a shiver through you.

“You’re freezing,” he says, noticing the goosebumps on your skin.

Before you can protest, he pulls you closer, tucking you against his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His body is warm, solid, and when he drapes his arm around your shoulders, you melt into him without a second thought.

You rest your head lightly against his chest, feeling his heartbeat steady and strong against your cheek.

For a long time, neither of you says anything. The city hums below you, the stars glitter faintly above, and you just breathe, the scent of him filling your senses, his thumb absently stroking circles against your arm.

Finally, his voice rises from his chest. “I don’t wanna rush this.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “Rush what?”

“This.” His hand brushes your cheek with a tenderness that undoes you.

Your throat tightens, your heart hammering against his ribs now.“Me either,” you whisper.

He leans in close, so close your noses almost touch and his voice drops intimately. “Whatever happens tonight” he says his breath warm against your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promises.

And then his lips are on yours as he kisses you slower, deeper, aching with more feeling, like he’s trying to brand himself into your memory, like he really means what he says.

He pulls back as his hand cups your jaw gently, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, and you tilt your head up to say something, you’re not even sure what ..but when you meet his eyes, whatever words you had evaporate.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he confesses, his voice low, and sincere.

You feel it too, the pull, the ache.

You don’t move away when he leans in again, kissing you harder this time, his mouth coaxing yours open, his tongue sliding against yours with a kind of raw sweetness that makes your heart race.

When you finally pull apart, your breaths are shaky, and you’re both quiet until you shudder … and then he grins pressing another kiss to your temple.

“Come inside,” he says, his voice so rough and soft it makes you shiver. “It’s freezing up here.”

You know he’s giving you an easy out. It’s an invitation… not a demand. And you want it. Badly.

You nod.

Without a word, his fingers slide through yours like he’s done it a thousand times before and you follow him down a short flight of stairs, back into the building. The heat of the hallway wraps around you the second the rooftop door swings closed behind you.

He leads you to his room, a corner suite, expansive, dimly lit, the city skyline pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

For a second, you just stand at the entrance as the door clicks shut behind you, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet it is… how alone you are now.

Austin walks into the suite slowly placing his phone on the kitchen counter, giving you time to back out if you want.

But you don’t move.

When he returns to you, he brings his hands up to frame your face, his thumbs stroking your cheeks tenderly.

“You staying?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod once, heart hammering so loud it’s a miracle he can’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I’m staying.”

The look that flashes in his eyes, relieved, and reverent, almost knocks the air out of your lungs.

And then he’s kissing you again, his hands roaming down your sides to your hips, pulling you flush against him. You feel the hardness of him, the strength, the need he’s been barely holding back all night.

You thread your hands through his hair, tugging slightly, and he sighs into your mouth, the sound sending a hot rush straight through your core.

He walks you backward slowly, his mouth never leaving yours, until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed.

You fall back breathless laughing at how disoriented you are, and he follows, bracing himself over you, his grin pure trouble.

“Am I that distracting?” he teases, his voice rough as his hands slip under the hem of your shirt, brushing over the bare skin of your waist.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging him closer. “The best kind of distraction.” You and admit.

His mouth crashes onto yours again, hotter this time, messier, all the slow-burn and tension finally changing into something fierce and real.

You gasp into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, your hand grabbing into his t-shirt, the other finding his shoulder, feeling the flex of his muscles under your fingers.

Austin groans low in his throat, like he’s been starving for this, and he presses closer, his body slotting perfectly between your legs.

His hands are everywhere sliding under your shirt, rough palms gliding up your ribs, fingertips brushing the curve of your breasts until you arch up into him, craving more.

“You’re so incredible,” he mutters against your mouth, his voice so hoarse, and raw you feel it between your legs.

You tug at the hem of his shirt, desperate, and he breaks the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head and toss it somewhere behind him.

God, he’s beautiful.

Lean, strong, every line of his body carved and perfect, golden skin lit up by the soft city lights pouring through the windows.

You run your hands up his chest, over the hard planes of his abs, marveling at how solid he feels under your touch. He shudders when your nails scrape lightly down his torso. “So dangerous.” he teases.

“You love it,” you grin, echoing his words from the red carpet, but your voice is shaky, breathless.

His mouth finds yours again before you can say anything else, kissing you like he’s trying to claim every part of you, the taste of your lips, the small sounds you make when he slides his tongue against yours.

His hands work your shirt up, bunching it higher until you lift your arms, letting him peel it off and toss it away.

He freezes for half a second when he sees you, the delicate lavender lace bra you’re wearing, the way your skin glows in the dim light.

He slides one strap down, then the other, his touch slow, savoring the moment. His hands move beneath your back, finding the clasp with ease, and with a soft click, the bra loosens as he pulls it away gently, letting it fall.

“Fuck,” he whispers, almost reverently, his hands skimming up your sides, over your ribs, until he cups your breasts in his palms.

You moan softly, your back arching off the bed, pressing into him, and he leans down, his mouth finding the swell of your breasts, sucking and kissing the peaks until you’re squirming underneath him, clutching at his shoulders.

“Austin,” you breathe, desperate now, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable.

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, the term of endearment slipping out naturally, wrecking you.

His hands move lower, trailing over your waist, your hips, finding the button of your jeans. He looks up, searching your face one last time, giving you the chance to stop this if you want to.

But you’re already tugging at his waist band, your eyes locked on his, telling him without words how much you want this.

He grins, that devastating, boyish grin and pops the button on your jeans, dragging the zipper down achingly slow.

You help him kick them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties, and his gaze darkens as he takes you in, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip.

“You’re unreal,” he says, voice thick.

“So are you,” you breathe tugging at his tack button, and he stands to strip out of his jeans and boxers in one fluid move. Your eyes drop instinctively when you see the sheer size of his cock, and your breath catches.

“Shit…” you whisper without thinking, a flush rising to your cheeks.

Austin catches your reaction instantly, and a slow, devastating grin spreads across his face. “You didn’t expect it?” he says, his voice low, teasing, cocky in the kind of way that makes your core tighten.

You stutter, flustered, heat rushing up your neck. “I didn’t— I just— I never thought…” you manage, the words falling apart in your mouth. He grins clearly pleased, and climbs back over you. When he presses against you, skin to skin, you both suck in a breath — the contact, too much and not enough all at once.

He kisses you again, slower now, taking his time, savoring it. His hand slides between your thighs, stroking you through the thin fabric of your panties until you’re gasping, your hips lifting into his hand, desperate for more.

You feel him smile against your mouth, cocky, and pleased at how easily he’s unraveling you, but there’s something tender underneath it, something that makes your heart ache even as your body burns.

“Austin,” you whisper again, a desperate broken plea.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his thumb brushing lightly over your swollen bottom lip.

“Gotta take care of you first,” he says, his voice wrecked and low. “Gotta warm you up for me.”

You shudder, your body arching into him without even thinking.

He grins, wicked and gentle all at once, as he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, dragging them down your legs and tossing them aside carelessly.

He lowers himself between your thighs, his mouth hungry, his hands steady, and you know…you’re already his.

His mouth is devastating as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center.

You cry out, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groans against you, like he’s the one being pleasured.

He takes his time, working you open with his tongue, savoring every gasp, every shiver. Then he slides his fingers inside you, whispering soft, filthy praises against your skin, each word making you fall apart faster.

When you finally come, you cry out his name, broken and desperate , and he doesn’t stop, until you’re pulling at him, craving more of him.

He reaches for his jeans, grabbing a condom from the pocket, and you watch him, heart pounding, as he slowly rolls it all the way on his thick cock your core thrumming with need for him.

He kisses his way back up your body, his mouth finding yours again, and you taste yourself on his lips, wild and reckless.

“You’re so hot,” you pant, and he smiles against your mouth.

“So are you.”

He he settles on his forearms as he lines himself up, his face is hovering just above yours, foreheads almost touching. As he pushes inside you he’s slow, careful, like he’s savoring every inch you take as you both moan in pleasure, feeling each other.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in like you’re oxygen, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks.

He moves slowly at first, letting you adjust, whispering soft praises against your skin. “So beautiful… so good… fuck, you feel incredible …” He says incoherently until you’re legs wrap tightly around his waist silently begging him for more.

He finally gives in to you thrusting hard, deep, relentless you lose yourself completely, falling apart in his arms, crying out his name like a prayer.

You come with a broken sob, feeling him pounding, deep and unyielding, the slight edge of pain only fueling the overwhelming pleasure ripping through your body.

He’s so strong, holding you down, driving into you like he can’t get close enough, fast enough and it’s too much… but it’s everything you want.

The sounds between you of gasps, moans, and desperate whimpers fill the room, raw and helpless and he follows a moment later, groaning low and rough against your neck, his body trembling as he spills into the condom.

You feel it, the heat of it, the hard jerks of his hips as he release deep inside you, pushing you higher even as you’re already undone.

When he finishes he slowly guides his cock all the way out and collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms immediately, your legs tangled together, your bodies slick and burning.

For a long moment, neither of you says anything, just breathing, hearts pounding in sync.

Finally, he presses a lazy kiss to your forehead as your eyes close. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He says, knowing you’re too wrecked to do anything more, and you smile against his chest, already half-asleep, feeling more content than you have in a long, long time.

Maybe you both rushed it. Maybe it’s reckless. But right now?

It feels like exactly where you’re meant to be.

END 🎤

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty @louisejoy86 @butlerrizz @kulturalismellektermek

[feralgodmothers]

“He’s too pretty to be this miserable.”

omg ACCURATE

“You want a quickie in the trailer?”

His eyes light up instantly. “Yes,”

Me, reading this whole fic like yeah… this would fix me

Quick-Take

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin is exhausted from jet lag on set for Breitling, his passion diminishing until your quick thinking gives him several minutes of clarity in his trailer.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin devoted boyfriend • over worked• stressed• needs affection• Austin’s love language •supportive girlfriend • stress relief• quickie in a trailer• p in V• over a counter• don’t make a sound• semi private• Austin pleasure bonded • orgasm • cream pie•aftercare

Quick-Take

It’s a crisp morning in the middle of the desert, the Breitling timepiece photoshoot set busy with strained energy beneath a relentless sun.

Hills line the horizon around you, dotted with shrubs, as the vast, cloudless sky blazes overhead.

The crew hustles around, tweaking lights, and hollering directions, while Austin stands in the center of it all.

He’s dressed in blue jeans hugging his lean frame, a matching blue shirt tucked tight into the waist, secured with a brown leather belt

His outfit is rugged perfection, and you watch him shoot a few scenes, striding toward the camera with purpose, and when he turns to walk away his great ass in those jeans steals your focus entirely.

Austin looks hot, there’s no question, but his mood is completely off.Jet lag’s got him in a chokehold, you both arriving fresh off a red-eye flight thanks to his relentless career schedule, and his usual easy going charm is wearing thin under the exhaustion.

You’re off to the side, sipping water under a hanging tarp to beat the dry heat, keeping an eye on him.

He glances over with a little smile, hands on his hips, until it’s time for photos. Then he’s back to stern, his brows furrowed, jaw tight.

You can’t help but notice the way they frame his perfect side profile, broad shoulders tapering down to that slim waist, hand cocked on his hip accentuating the curve of his ass.

But as his eyes flicker with a weary squint, you know he’s about to crash, there’s no hiding it.

Every time the photographer calls, “Tilt your head, Austin,” or “Give me more intensity,” he complies, but his eyes scream he’s over it.

He’s in one of his moods, too polite to speak up, too tired to fake it fully. Still, he keeps it together, offering that sensual, yet slightly edgier look the camera craves, playing it cool like the pro he is.

The Breitling watch gleams on his wrist, catching the light with every forced pose, but the tension’s simmering just beneath the surface.

The photographer finally calls for a break, and Austin slinks over to the folding chair near you, his name bold across the back.

He slumps into it with a low groan, rubbing his temples, his brown hair a little over-gelled from the styling team’s earlier efforts and you slide in beside him, offering comfort any way you can.

“You’re killing it out there,” you say, keeping it light.

He glances up at you, and for a second, his guarded expression softens. A shy grin tugs at the corner of his lips, barely there but enough to make your chest warm. “Yeah?” he says, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. “Thanks. Feel like I’m running on fumes, though.”

“You’re hiding it well,” you say, giving him a playful glance. “Seriously, you look so good in this outfit Austin the blue denim is really working for you.” You confess your eyes trailing over him, lingering on the way the jeans cling to his thighs.

He huffs a small laugh, running a hand through his hair, and you catch the faintest flush on his cheeks. He’s still off, still wound tight, but you can tell he appreciates the effort. You just want him to shake off the gloom, to see that spark he usually carries. He’s too pretty to be this miserable.

You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles beneath his blue shirt as you lean in, your voice dropping softly. “You’ve got this,” you whisper, fingers sliding higher, tracing the line of his shoulders until you graze the edge of his collar.

He turns to you, his blue eyes soft with a quiet ache flickering in them. “I need you so damn much right now,” he says, his voice low and rough.

His words hit deep, a raw edge to them that tightens your chest, and before he can say more, the director calls for the next shot.

You squeeze his shoulder one last time, and he brushes your hand gently as he gets up.

You watch him walk through the desert heat, climbing up and sitting at the top of a ladder for the next shot, the sandy hills framing him perfectly.

He’s supposed to look brooding, focused, but instead he looks lost under the intense sun, reflectors glaring into his blue eyes, squinting hard, with his brows furrowed.

The photographer’s directions pile on, “Elbows on your knees,” “Hands too low, I need to see the watch, Austin,” “Too stiff.” Austin keeps correcting himself, but it’s not working his minds not in it, and his head dips low as he exhales a frustrated breath.

The director’s voice cuts through, sharp and measured. “Alright, let’s break for wardrobe and set up for the quick take shot.” He calls, and Austin climbs down, his composure cracked as he heads straight for you, defeat in his eyes.

You pull him into your arms, his solid body a little too warm as your hands rest on his jaw, drawing his blue eyes to meet yours. “What do you need, baby?” you ask softly.

“I can’t keep it together out here… just need a minute,” he responds, his voice hushed, and there’s no hesitation as he takes your hand, pulling you toward his silver Airstream trailer parked stabilized off in the sand.

His grip is firm, his pace hurried, like he’s chasing relief and you’re the only one who can provide it.

As soon as the door locks shut, sealing out the desert glare, he’s already spilling his desperate thoughts. “Fuck, babe, I can’t think straight,” he rasps, voice low and frayed.

He paces for a moment, restless, until you tease half-serious, “You want a quickie in the trailer?”

His eyes light up instantly. “Yes,” he says, and you feel a thrill surge through you as he closes the distance fast, pulling you into his arms as his lips meet yours in a fierce and hungry clash.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint as he kisses you deeper, a starved groan rising from his throat. His hands grip your face, pulling you even closer, like he can’t get enough.

He breaks the kiss breathless, his hands spinning you around quick and pressing you against the front room counter. “Been losing my mind out there… need to fuck you so bad, it’s the only thing that’ll pull me together.”

You grin, voice teasing as you brace your hands against the edge, the cool metal digging into your palms. “This is the big plan? Screwing me senseless to survive this shoot?” you say, breathless with a playful edge.

“Hell yes,” he says his voice tense, fumbling with his belt in a frantic rush, the brown leather clinking wildly as he yanks it loose.

His fingers snag the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down in one sharp pull as he shoves the denim low enough to free himself.

His cock springs out, thick and hard, and he hikes your skirt up with a rough pull. “Need you… fuck, I need you so much,” he groans, yanking your panties down, exposing your ass to him. His fingers grip your thighs, spreading you open with a low groan, his tip already slick as he presses it against you.

You bite your lip to stifle a whimper, the trailer walls thin enough to make you both hyper-aware of the crew milling a distance away outside. He lines himself up, nudging against you before he pushes in, thrusting deep in a hurried rush that slams his hips into yours.

Your fingers dig into the counter, a quiet, “Mmm,” slipping out despite your best efforts, the pleasure spiking fast as a choked off sound escapes him and he settles inside, the tight heat of you swallowing him whole.

His body jolts, a shudder ripping through him, and he presses himself closer, pulling you against him, his breaths jagged against your neck. “So good..need you so fuckin’ much,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he clings to you, his hands roaming you with an insatiable need.

He’s not gentle or rough, just desperate, and he thrusts into you fast and messy, like he’s chasing salvation. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through your shirt, squeezing hard enough to make you arch into him. “Can’t get enough of you,” he pants, fingers trailing back down to dig into your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he thrusts, harder, deeper, his belt clinking sharply with every snap of his hips.

Soft whimpers spill from you, your pleasure washing over you as you melt into his touch, a quiet “Oh, Austin” slipping past your lips in a breathy plea.

He groans low, loving how you sound, his breaths catching against your ear, each one a rough whisper of his need as he loses himself in you.

The denim of his jeans chafes against your thighs, the zipper’s teeth grazing your skin as he drives into you faster with a frantic need.

You both try to keep it quiet, stifling moans, but it’s a losing battle. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to empty every ounce of stress into you, and your meeting him on every thrust, your brains melting in the heat of pleasure.

His cock slides inside you, thick and pulsing, hitting the spot that makes your knees buckle, and he clamps his hand over your mouth muffling the loud moans falling from lips. “You want everyone to hear what I’m doing to you?” he asks and you shake your head, breathless.

He groans low and stifled, the sound vibrating against your spine, and you can tell he’s trying to bite down on his noise, satisfying you while losing himself completely.

His pace turns erratic, thrusting wildly, your body rocking hard with the force of it. His hand leaves your mouth, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, trailing back to your breasts to pinch and knead your nipples.

Your head tilts back, choked-off sounds escaping your throat as your walls tighten and flutter around his cock, clenching him tight in the heat of pleasure.

“Please, baby, come for me,” he whispers, voice shaking with need. “I need it…need to feel you, need to know how good you feel on my cock.”

His thrusts turn relentless, so fast your body shakes, a trembling mess as he pounds into you. His fingers slip down, rubbing your clit in tight circles in time with his hips, and a loud moan escapes you as you come, your walls clenching hard around him

His hand covers over your mouth again, stifling the little sounds spilling from you, and he groans in pleasure, his breaths releasing in quick, uneven bursts against your neck.

You can feel the weight of the day slipping off of him, each shuddering exhale carrying away the tension that’s been crushing him.

His hands suddenly drop to your hips, anchoring himself as he comes with a deep, shaky groan that echoes in the small space. He buries his cock deep, hips stuttering, as a guttural, “Fuck,” slips out before he can stop it.

His cock throbs inside you, spilling hot and thick, and the feel of it, him letting go and filling you up, sends a shiver through you.

His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against him as he rides it out, chest heaving, lazily drawing you closer with each slowing thrust. He rests his head against the side of yours, his soft sighs of relief slipping from him warm and quiet against your skin.

“Feeling better?” you grin, breathless, your voice light with a tease.

He lets out a winded laugh, pulling out slowly and tucking his cock back into his jeans with trembling fingers. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice soft and wrecked, “Much better.”

He turns you to face him, and he kisses you, his lips brushing yours with a tender, lingering press before he pulls back, his shy smile breaking through.

“You’re so good to me,” he praises, his voice warm and low, and you grin, catching the spark flickering back into his eyes.

Your hand presses gently against his jaw. “The quick shot, baby,” you remind him, and his face shifts with a determined nod, focus snapping back into place.

He quickly peels off the blue shirt and jeans, tossing the clothing onto a chair in the corner of the trailer.

You fix yourself up while he puts on his second outfit, a crisp white tee that hugs his frame just right and a pair of sleek black jeans that make him look effortless.

He pulls everything on, running a hand through his hair, then he turns to you with an eager expression awaiting your approval.

You step closer, tilting your head as you take him in. “You look great, very vintage Austin,” you tease, grinning as your hands trail down the front of his tee.

He chuckles, ducking his head with his shy edge creeping back into his smile. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stepping around him to grab his guitar from its stand in the corner.

The sleek acoustic has been sitting there all morning, untouched, and you hold it out to him. “Why don’t you bring some of you into this shoot? It’d go perfect with the Breitling vibe, timeless and classic, but with your edge.”

His eyes light up, and he takes the guitar from you, fingers brushing yours as he does. “That’s… actually a really good idea,” he says, his voice lifting with a spark of excitement.

He strums a soft chord testing it out, and you can see the gears turning. “Yeah,” he says, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I’m feeling that.”

He looks at you, and before you can react, he steps in close, cupping your chin with one hand and pressing a kiss on your lips full of gratitude.

His thumb brushes your cheek as he pulls back,“You’re a genius, you know that?” he says, his voice lifting with a smile “Thanks for pulling me out of my head.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “I just want you to have some fun out there.”

He grins full-on this time, no hesitation and heads back out to the set, guitar in hand.

You trail behind, watching as he takes charge. “Hey,” he calls to the crew, “can we get my bike out here? The black one behind the trailer?”

The team scrambles, and soon enough, the sleek motorcycle is rolled into the frame, its chrome glinting as the crew works to set up the lighting.

Austin sits on the couch in front of his trailer as he waits with the natural swagger he’s got locked down. He strums a few chords on his guitar, loose and easy, letting his fingers dance over the strings.

The photographer catches it, snapping away as the videographer joins in, rolling footage while Austin glances over at you with a playful smile.

You cross your arms, grinning back, and he adds his own flair tilting his head just so, the Breitling watch flashing as he shifts his grip on the guitar.

Once the bike is set up Austin sets the guitar down against the couch as the makeup and hair artists swoop in for a final touch-up, dabbing his face and tousling his hair a bit more.

Then he pauses, a new idea sparking in his eyes as he ducks into his trailer, emerging moments later with one of his favorite leather jackets.

He shrugs it on, the fit snug across his shoulders, as he strides toward his motorcycle parked in the middle of the set.

The crew watches, hooked, as he moves with purpose, posing  with one hand on the bike’s handlebar, the other crossed over his chest, fingers splayed to showcase the Breitling watch perfectly, the sleek metal glinting in the light.

Then, he shifts, planting both hands on the handlebars, standing in a wide, commanding stance over the bike, legs braced in the sand, exuding raw confidence.

The crew’s eating it up, and you can tell he’s back in his stride, as the shoot transforms into something alive, something him, raw, cool, and effortlessly authentic.

By the time they call it a day, the photos are gold. The photographer’s buzzing about all the shots and footage they’ve done, and Austin is practically glowing with that quiet pride he carries.

He walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” he says, his voice warm as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Breitling’s gonna owe you one.”

You laugh, leaning into him, the familiar weight of his arm grounding you. “I’m just happy to see you happy,” you confess, and his grin widens, soft and real.

With the stress melted away, he’s back to being the Austin you know full of charisma and charm, just needing a quick moment of clarity to be himself.

END 👖

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[feralgodmothers]

He is SO MEAN (but suuuuuuch an entertaining guilty pleasure omg).

The first one made me think of a horned up boyfriend version of that one scene from Cinderella:

“You get me so fucking hot,” he whispers against your lips, his voice heavy with need. “Anything you wear…anything…it’s too much. I can’t fucking stand it.”

Interesting….

“Everything’s …coming together ….perfectly,”

And I LOVE the possessiveness of the last one

Wear You Out Label Mature 18+

*Three Fiction Series*

Summary: Three fics in one, all fashion related based on Austin being your love/hate boyfriend.

Co-written with @peggyao3

Faux Pas Austin invites you into his world after hiding you for months in the shadows—however things don’t turn out as planned when you realize you do not fit in. ⚠️Hardcore/Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Mean Austin • toxic relationship • Love/Hate Relationship • public anxiety reader • insecure reader • mild public humiliation • dacryphilia • kiss it better • edging• oral on fem • clitplay• p in v hidden at a party • orgasms• creampie • aftercare

Dress You Down Austin books a private room at a luxury boutique to have you fitted for his upcoming red carpet event. He doesn’t seem to like any of the choices you put on, until you wear one he immediately wants to take off. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Moody Austin • distracted Austin• reader affection starved• vying for Austin’s attention •Austin’s approval • p in v in a dressing room• orgasm •cream pie• after care

Try on Haul Gaining fame as a fashion vlogger intimidates Austin, especially when he sees what they send you to wear, making him immediately want to ruin you in the outfits. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Austin jealous • brooding• reader gaining confidence • flaunting status • toxic relationship dynamics • Austin dominating • manhandling • put in place • nipple play• rough p in v on the floor• after care • slight career change

✨ Inspo: Austin w long hair phase 🔗 Masterlist

Summary Austin invites you into his world after hiding you for months in the shadows—however things don’t turn out as planned when you realize you do not fit in. ⚠️Hardcore/Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Mean Austin • toxic relationship • Love/Hate Relationship • public anxiety reader • insecure reader • mild public humiliation • dacryphilia • kiss it better • edging• oral on fem • clitplay• p in v hidden at a party • orgasms• creampie • aftercare

Faux Pas

The night air hangs heavy as you step out of the Uber, your strapped heels catching slightly on the uneven cobblestones of the chateau’s drive.

The sprawling estate glows against the evening sky, its ivy-draped walls and arched windows a testament to old-world decadence.

As you approach the entrance, a pair of security guards in sleek black suits stand vigilant. One of them fixes you with a vacant stare.

“Card.” He demands, and your fingers fumble as you pull out your ID, heart thudding as he takes it skimming the iPad in his hand. He finds your name and hands it back waving you in with a lazy flick of his light.

You let out a sigh of relief as you follow the golden lights lining the path to the garden party where Young Hollywood glitters like rare gems tonight.

Austin’s text from earlier keeps replaying in your mind “Dress nice. 1423 Château Drive. Big reveal.” Your heart had soared when you received that text. After months of secrecy, dodging paparazzi lenses and stealing moments in the shadowed corners of his life, he’d finally hinted at going public.

You’d spent hours in front of your apartment mirror, tugging at the hem of your black spaghetti strap dress, convincing yourself the simple cut was chic and timeless, paired with strappy heels borrowed from a friend.

Now, standing at the edge of this brand-hosted extravaganza, you feel like a moth fluttering toward a flame you definitely won’t survive.

The garden party thrums with energy. A DJ perched on a platform spins tracks that pulse through the night. Laughter rings out, sharp and bright from clusters of impossibly beautiful people, actors, influencers, models all clad in designer threads that shimmer under the string lights.

Champagne flutes clink, and the air buzzes with the casual arrogance of young fame. You smooth your dress, nerves rising as you scan the crowd.

Then you see him, Austin Butler, your secret boyfriend, your obsession, standing in-front of a marble fountain. He’s a vision of high fashion, dressed in a black suit tailored to perfection, the jacket slung open to reveal a sheer silk shirt that clings to his lean frame, hinting at the toned muscles beneath.

A thin silver chain gleams at his neck , catching the light as he tilts his head back to laugh with his pack of model friends. He’s untouchable, a golden god in a sea of mortals.

Then his eyes lock on yours, and your breath catches. His friends turn and one by one, their gazes slice through you like scalpels. The women tall, angular, draped in slinky Dior gowns and dripping with Cartier, sneer in unison.

The men, in their avant-garde Balenciaga and Rick Owens, tilt their heads with pitying smirks, as if you’re a thrift-store knockoff stumbled into their boutique.

Their collective stare is a judgment: you’re a tacky interloper, a girl who’s wandered into a Gucci runway show wearing a gas station T-shirt. Your dress feels flimsy now, the straps digging into your shoulders, the hem too short, too plain.

Your heels wobble as you freeze, rooted to the spot, your heart plummeting into the pit of your stomach.

Austin’s lips twitch into a smirk, his blue eyes glinting with a dark, amused edge as he strides toward you. “Awww, you look so cute in your little outfit,” he says, his voice a velvet blade as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. “ What is this H&M?” He whispers his arm sliding around your waist in a performative hug.

His friends snicker, a chorus of polished cruelty, and your face heats. You can’t move, can’t speak, your throat is in a vise as he pulls back, his grin widening.

He watches you, his stare intense, almost captivated, every squirm, every falter seeming to amuse him even more.

The willowy brunette in a metallic Gucci dress laughs, sipping her rosé. “Seriously, Austin, where’d you dig her up? She looks like she got lost on her way to a Forever 21 clearance rack.” She taunts, as they all laugh in unison.

Your eyes sting, and you bite your lip hard enough to taste copper, willing the tears to stay back.

Austin’s hand lingers on your waist, a touch of comfort in the mockery of it all. “Oh, come on, babe, don’t look so serious,” he says, pinching your chin. “This dress is a mess, you know better.”

His remark is a fresh wound, and his friends’ laughter is the salt rubbed in.

You’ve spent months clawing your way toward his approval only to feel like a fraud now, and your anxiety, a constant companion with him, rises up full force drowning out the music.

You can’t breathe. You can’t think , and finally, you break, shoving past Austin with a sob tearing from your chest, rushing through the crowd.

You can hear Austin’s voice behind you feigned and dismissive, “Let me go take care of my little mess” he says, and the laughter follows you into the chateau, the garden’s party music fading as you stumble deeper through the dimly lit halls, tears blurring your vision.

You find a bathroom a cavernous retreat of black marble and gilded mirrors, a chandelier hanging with crystals like frozen tears, and you slam the door and lock it, collapsing onto the cold polished floor as sobs tear through you.

Your reflection in the wall mirror is a wreck, mascara streaking your cheeks, lips trembling, the dress a sad, wilted thing under the glamorous lighting.

You’ve cried like this before, too many times, curled up on his chic sectional couch or sprawled across his king-sized bed after he’s dismantled you with a casual jab. “You’re so fragile, it’s kind of pathetic.” Or “If you can’t handle me, maybe you don’t belong here.”

But always, after you’ve fled to your own cramped apartment, he’d call, his voice low, coaxing, reeling you back like a fish on a line.

You hate how much you love him, how his cruelty only fuels your desperation to prove yourself.

Tonight, though, it’s different. He’s humiliated you in public, in front of his glittering world, and you want to vanish, to live in this bathroom forever.

The door handle rattles, snapping you out of your spiral and you choke back a sob, pressing a hand to your mouth. “Baby,” his voice comes smooth and dangerous through the wood door.

Your heart beats faster, a traitor even now but you don’t move, don’t answer, praying he’ll think it’s someone else.

But then he speaks again, sharper, laced with that twisted delight you know too well. “I’ve heard you cry so many times, I’d recognize it anywhere. Don’t make a scene, open the door.”

You stay silent, your breath hitching as you wipe at your ruined face. He rattles the handle harder. “Come on, don’t be dramatic. You know I hate it when you sulk like this.”

He pauses, then quieter, “What you want me to put another sticker on my boyfriend is an asshole card c’mon baby open up for me.”

Your stomach twists, a sick cocktail of shame and longing swirling within as you ache for him to pull you close, to whisper that you’re enough.

You rise slowly, your steps unsteady as you approach the door, and with trembling fingers you unlock it.

He comes in without hesitation, as breathtakingly devastating as ever. His blue eyes shimmer beneath the chandelier’s glow as he locks the door behind him, his gaze sweeping over your fragile form.

Your eyes are wet with unshed tears as you tremble forcing back a sob.

“Still so easy to make you cry,” he says, his voice laced with mockery and a shadowed edge, a thrill flickering in his tone as he drinks in the sight of you so broken.

His long blonde hair falls across his face as he tilts his head studying you and a twisted spark flickers in his expression. His eyes darken with a perverse fascination as he lingers on the tears that spill down your cheeks.

“Crying in the bathroom like some pitiful little heroine, it’s almost too perfect.” he says, his voice low, taunting, savoring the way your vulnerability unravels before him.

Your sobs catch in your throat, and his gaze sharpens, fixated on the tremble of your lips.

You turn your face away, but he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes, his firm grip sending a shiver through you despite everything else.

His thumbs slide up, brushing over your cheeks, tracing the dampness there with a slow, tenderness that contrasts the mockery in his stare.

“Let me go,” you whisper, voice shaking, but your weak, and he knows it as his lips curve into that smirk, the one you both love and hate.

“Oh, babe, you don’t mean that,” he says, his hands trailing over you now, his fingers brushing down your arms, lingering at your waist.

He, pulls you to him, your heels scraping the tiles as you stumble and his hands guide you backward, steering you toward the sink.

Before you can protest, he lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble, the chill seeping through your thin dress.

He steps between your legs, his body pinning you there as leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re so fucking hot for me when you cry.” he whispers his voice a low confession that sends a jolt through you.

His lips find your neck, kissing up the sensitive skin, slow and delicate, each press of his mouth igniting a fire beneath your shame.

He moves higher, his kisses trailing to your jaw, then your lips, and as he kisses you, you taste the salt of your tears mingling with the heat of his mouth.

Your broken sorrow shifts, twisting into something else, a dizzying realization that he wants you, craves you, even at your worst…especially at your worst. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this gilded cage.

His hand dips lower, rubbing between your legs as you gasp against his lips, torn between the undeniable pleasure and the fleeting urge to push him away.

“What is it, babe?” he whispers, his fingers sliding up and down, teasing your slickness beneath his touch. “You can’t resist me, can you?” he says with dark intent.

You glare at him, anger simmering beneath your silence, but the heat between your legs betrays you, a frustrating ache that only he seems to ignite.

“I’ll make it right for you,” he says, his voice a smooth promise as his eyes lock on yours with a knowing glint.

He places his hands on your thighs, lowering onto his knees, his tall frame positioning his face just between your legs, and pulls you forward until your hands brace behind you on the sink. He hooks his thumbs into the bands at your hips sliding your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

He lets out a soft sigh, his eyes fixated on how wet you are, “Always such a mess for me baby,” he whispers, his voice low and taunting, and his mouth dives in, his lips pressing against you with a heat that sends a shockwave through your core.

You watch in the wall mirror as his shoulders flex, holding you steady, savoring every second of pleasuring you, knowing full well how much he’s screwed up.

His tongue moves with a sloppy, desperate edge, lapping at you hungrily, humiliating himself in the mess of it all as he buries his face deeper, sucking and teasing you until your resentment starts to blur into forgiveness.

His nose brushes against you as he presses deeper, inhaling you like he’s addicted. His hand guides yours to his hair, urging you to push him, and you give in, letting the wet, fervent strokes of his tongue unravel you as he moans into you, the sound raw and needy.

He eats you like he’s starving for you, dragging his tongue with every greedy swirl and pull of his lips until soft moans fall from your lips, the first shudders of climax coursing through you.

His hands lock around your thighs, keeping you spread wide as little whimpers escape your throat, his relentless assault on your clit devastating as you come undone. Your hips rock helplessly with every surge of his tongue, your walls throbbing painfully around nothing as the pleasure crashes over you.

“I…..I need you,” you whisper , your voice hesitate and trembling, entirely desperate to feel him deep inside.

He pulls back, still holding your thighs, wiping his mouth along your dress, smearing your slickness across the fabric. “I know you do,” he says, with an edge in his tone as he stands, “You always do,“ he confirms, unfastening his pants and shoving his boxers down to free his cock, thick and hard.

You part your legs wider, glistening for him as he nudges his tip against you, then pushes in, the rush instant as he sinks deep inside until he fills you completely.

Shock and bliss collide within you, your mind reeling as he takes over, each thrust pulling you to him, hitting that perfect depth that leaves you gasping, your hands clutching at his neck letting every rational thought slip away.

He thrusts harder, tugging at your dress, and with a sudden, sharp thrust, one of the straps snaps, the fabric sliding off your shoulder as he drives himself deeper, raw, relentless, the cold marble a stark contrast to the heat of him.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of his movements, the way he takes you like no one else can, the way he consumes all of your senses.

His hand slides down, fingers finding your clit, rubbing with just enough pressure as he whispers, “You’re mine, aren’t you?” The sensation building, as you near the edge, and with a firm pinch, he takes you over.

You come as a wave of release crashes through you, your body trembling against his as you moan in pleasure. He releases his hold on your clit, his own climax hitting him hard, as a guttural, “Fuck Babe…that’s it, take it all,” falls from his lips, rough and unguarded, his thrusts surging between your legs as he finishes.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breaths filling the space, his chest rising and falling as he slides out of you, leaving you trembling on the marble.

He steps back, tucking his cock away and zipping up smoothly, fixing his suit with a few casual flick of his hands. “Feel better now that I fucked you in this hideous dress?” he says, his tone cutting through your lingering haze.

You reach for the broken strap, fingers fumbling as you glance at the mirror behind you, your reflection a tangle of flushed skin and torn fabric.

Before you can dwell on it, he takes your chin, turning you to face him. “You’re my girl now,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “I can’t have you wearing rags like this anymore.” He says, hi thumb sliding against the tears staining your cheek, “My girl needs me to get her something that elevates her beauty, hm?” he confirms, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

You manage a weak smile, your heart fluttering at his compliment -that you’re beautiful, that he cares, but as his grin widens, a cold realization settles in….he just doesn’t want you to embarrass him again.

END ⛲️

Summary Austin books a private room at a luxury boutique to have you fitted for his upcoming red carpet event. He doesn’t seem to like any of the choices you put on, until you wear one he immediately wants to take off.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Moody Austin • distracted Austin• reader affection starved• vying for Austin’s attention •Austin’s approval • p in v in a dressing room• orgasm •cream pie• after care

Dress You Down

The air in Los Angeles shimmers with that golden haze, the kind that makes everything feel like your in a movie scene.

You adjust your sunglasses as Austin pulls his black Audi R8 into a discreet parking lot off Rodeo Drive.

The neighborhood screams wealth, palm trees sway lazily, storefronts gleam with perfection, and the faint privilege from people walking by fills in the air.

Austin booked this shopping trip weeks ago, some ultra-exclusive boutique that doesn’t even have a sign out front, just a matte black door framed by frosted glass.

They don’t let just anyone in, and Austin makes you hyper aware of that fact. He always has a way of making everything feel like a favor he does for you, even when it’s his idea. ..even when it’s his film event at Cannes you’ll be attending for your first red carpet debut.

The door buzzes open, and a tall slender attendant with a slicked-back bun greets you, her voice smooth as silk. “Mr. Butler, welcome. Your room is ready.” She leads you through a marble hallway, past racks of clothing so pristine they look like art installations, to a private suite at the back.

The room is obscene, a plush velvet couch in deep emerald, a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, a silver bucket of champagne sweating on a glass table, and a heavy velvet curtain that hides a changing area.

A rack of dresses stands waiting, every piece already in your size, hand-picked by some stylist you’ve never met. You run your fingers over the fabrics, silk, cashmere, chiffon and freeze when you see it, a sapphire blue gown, floor-length with delicate straps and a subtle shimmer. You brush the hem, and the richness of the silk sinks into your skin, smooth and cool. You’ve never touched anything so beautiful.

Austin flops onto the couch with a dramatic sigh, legs sprawled, already deep in his phone. His black shirt clings to his shoulders, his blonde hair pulled in a low bun, just enough to look effortless. The attendant opens the champagne with a soft pop, pouring two flutes before handing them over. “Anything else?” she asks, her tone polite.

“Nah, we’re good,” Austin says without looking up. She nods and slips out, leaving you alone with the faint hum of the TV playing some ambient fashion reel.

You sip the champagne, bubbles fizzing against your tongue, and set the glass down to grab the sapphire dress. “I’m gonna try this one,” you say, more to yourself than him, slipping behind the curtain.

The fabric slides over your skin, hugging your curves just right. You turn to the full-length mirror, and your breath catches, you look stunning.

The deep blue makes your eyes stand out, and the cut flatters every inch of you. You feel like someone else, someone worthy of this room, this moment.

You pull the curtain back with a little flourish, expecting… something anything but Austin hunches over his phone, thumbs flying across the screen.

You clear your throat. “Ahem.”

He glances up, eyes flicking over you with a quick flash of appreciation, his lips twitching into a half-smirk.“Have you seen yourself in it?” he asks, his gaze dropping back to his phone.

Your stomach sinks. You poured yourself into this dress…the dress, the one you already decided is your favorite…and he barely gave a reaction to it.

You retreat behind the curtain, peeling it off with a lump in your throat, and grab the next one, a slinky black number with a plunging back that ties in a delicate knot at the base of your spine. It’s sexy, daring and maybe will even get his attention.

You step out again, smoothing the fabric over your hips. “What about this?”

He barely looks up. “Let me see the back.” You spin slowly, and flicks his eyes up for half a second. “Nah.” Back to his phone.

You huff, louder than you mean to, and storm back behind the curtain your cheeks burning.

You yank the black dress off and grab the third option, a skin-tight crimson see-through gown with a fitted bodice. It’s bold, almost too bold, the sheer fabric clinging to your body and transitioning from opaque to sheer, but you’re past caring. You step out, head low, and give a half-hearted twirl. “Well…?”

Your met with silence, and when you look up, for once, his phone is down and he’s staring right at you, his eyes dark as he stands.

“I fucking like this one,” he says, his voice low and measured. His hands settle on your waist, firmly pushing you back and pinning you between him and the mirror.

“Austin, what—” you start, but his mouth is on yours, cutting you off. His kiss is deep, consuming, leaving you stunned with your back pressed against the cold glass.

“You get me so fucking hot,” he whispers against your lips, his voice heavy with need. “Anything you wear…anything…it’s too much. I can’t fucking stand it.” His fingers fumble with his jeans, a wild, frantic edge to his movements as he free his cock, and you gasp as he hikes your leg up, hooking it roughly around his waist.

The dress bunches around your thighs as his fingers find your panties, rubbing them with a possessive pressure that makes you squirm.

He kisses you harder, tongue sliding against yours with a hungry edge as his fingers stroke your clit, coaxing a slick heat that floods your body with desperate need. Before you can even catch your breath, he hooks your panties aside and thrusts in with a slow, deep stroke that stretches you, the pressure making you gasp as he fills you completely.

You whimper, a jolt of shock and pleasure tearing through you as his eyes wander your body with lust in the crimson dress. He’s fixated, tracing the way it clings to your curves, the way it shifts with every brutal thrust.

“Fuck,” he groans, head dipping to your neck, lips brushing your skin as he breathes you in. “You look too fucking good in this.”

Your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in, as your mind spins. You’re in a store…a public store, with an attendant who could walk in at any second, and Austin doesn’t even care . He wants you just like this, getting off on the risk, and it drives you insane.

“Austin, please,” you whisper, his full attention and raw passion making you fight to keep from moaning. He knows it, and as his eyes lock with yours, his thrusts hit just right, causing a delicious ache to bloom low in your core with every move.

You begin to moan loudly and his fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your mouth to his and silencing you with a deep claiming kiss. Your hesitation melts away as he fucks you faster, pressing you against the mirror with a rhythm that’s relentlessly satisfying making your walls flutter on his cock with every thrust.

His hand slides up, caressing your throat, squeezing just tight enough to dizzy you as you surrender, nails digging into his shoulders. Then his hand moves higher, covering your mouth to muffle the moans as he drives faster, deeper, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, white-hot spasms crashing through you with every thrust.

A sudden knock on the dressing room door makes you gasp. “Is everything to your satisfaction Mr. Butler?” the attendant calls out, her voice muffled but curious.

Austin doesn’t stop, his hips slam into yours even harder, one hand tightening on your waist as the other pressing harder over your mouth, silencing your moans.

“Everything’s …coming together ….perfectly,” he chokes out, his voice strained as he grinds deeper, relentless, and your orgasm crashes through you, eyes fluttering and rolling back as the mirror rattles with a few more savage thrusts. His hips slow down, pressing into yours as he groans, low and restrained, finishing with a shudder.

He pulls out, leaving you both gasping in the small space, your legs trembling, the dress still tangled around your hips. He steps back, zipping up his jeans with a shaky hand, “Get the first one,” he says, sweeping his hair back. his voice rough but firm. “This one’s coming too…but I can’t let you out in it, or I’ll lose my fucking mind.”

END 👗

❤️‍🔥Try on Haul Gaining fame as a fashion vlogger intimidates Austin, especially when he sees what they send you to wear, making him immediately want to ruin you in the outfits. ❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Austin jealous • brooding• reader gaining confidence • flaunting status • toxic relationship dynamics • Austin dominating • manhandling • put in place • nipple play• rough p in v on the floor• after care • slight career change

Try on Haul

The bedroom is a chaotic swirl of tissue paper, cardboard boxes, and brand logos, all scattered across the floor like the aftermath of a fashion tornado.

You stand in the center of it all, adjusting the tripod with practiced ease, pretending not to notice Austin sitting on the lounger in the corner.

His presence is impossible to ignore, his sharp blue eyes tracking your every move, his lean frame sprawled out with a casual arrogance that makes your pulse race.

He isn’t supposed to be here, watching you film your latest try-on haul, but there he is, arms crossed, silently judging your every move.

You know he’s trying to rattle you, but you aren’t about to let him win, not with thousands of followers waiting for your next post.

Ever since you started dating Austin, your online presence has exploded. Overnight, your follower count skyrocketed into the tens of thousands, and the brand deals followed like a tidal wave, each company desperate to have you in their latest designs, knowing you’d be seen next to him.

The thrill of it is intoxicating, a rush you can’t get enough of, and luckily you have a natural ability to keep your audience entertained with your bubbly charm and effortless updates.

You flick on the camera, your voice bright and giddy as you gesture to the mountain of packages behind you.

“Okay everyone, I am so excited for this haul! Look at all these boxes! I can’t wait to rip into them and show you everything!”

You can feel Austin’s gaze boring into you, but he stays silent, so you click off the camera and start unpacking, pulling out silky fabrics and structured cuts with a grin.

As you strip down to your bra and panties, Austin finally speaks, his voice low and edged with something you can’t quite place. “How many times do you have to try things on?”

You glance over at the huge pile of freebies, smirking as you toss a cashmere shirt onto the bed. “Hmm, like, a lot,” you tease, knowing it gets under his skin. He hates how much attention this gets you, even if he’d never admit it outright.

He scoffs, leaning forward slightly. “Who’s watching this?”

“Thousands of people,” you shoot back, keeping your tone light.

“Men?” His voice sharpens, jealousy flashing in his eyes.

Your eyes widen, caught off guard, because Austin is hot… ridiculously hot, so that possessive streak still surprises you sometimes. “My fans are female,” you say, fighting a grin at his misjudgment.

He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Sure,” as he sinks back into the lounger, clicking away on his phone, clearly unconvinced.

Undeterred, you begin tearing into more packaging, piling clothing on the bed and letting them spill onto the floor.

The first piece you chose is a soft pink dress, form-fitting with a deep V-neck and a hem that grazes your thighs. You slip it on, the fabric hugging your curves like a second skin, and turn on the camera.

“Okay, this dress is everything. It accentuates my waist perfectly, and the hem is just low enough not to be daring, but still flirty, right?”

You give a little jump for the infamous bounce test, the skirt flaring slightly, and you hear Austin make a low sound behind you, but you shrug it off, stopping the camera recording and peeling the dress down.

Next up is a tie-up crop top in creamy ivory, paired with a frilly mini skirt that swishes as you move. You unclasp your bra and lace up the crop top, then you pull on the skirt twirling in front of the mirror with a delighted squeal. “Obsessed,” you murmur to yourself before flipping the camera back on.

“I’m in love with this set! The cut is so cute, and the design, look at these little ties! And the skirt length!” You turn to the side, showing it off, unaware that the curve of your ass peeks out just enough to catch the light…and that’s it for Austin.

His phone hits the lounger with a dull thud as he stands, closing the distance between you in two strides. Before you can react, his hand is on your ass, squeezing firmly. “Will showing this get you more views, hm?” He teases, and your face flushes red, panic surging as you fumble to shut off the camera.

“Austin!” you scoff, spinning to check the footage. “You ruined my take! That was such a good take, nothing was showing!” Your voice spikes, uncharacteristically sharp as you glare up at him. “Honestly how dare you, you’re just jealous aren’t you!” You snap.

He doesn’t flinch. Instead, he snatches your phone from your hand and tosses it onto the bed, taking you down to the floor, and pinning you on a pile of clothing in one fluid motion.

“Fuck this,” he mutters, his voice rough as he hikes up your skirt. “I’m not letting my girl try on all this shit for views.” He says, his cock pressing hard against you, and you exhale feeling a shiver race down your spine.

His fingers tug at the ribbon of your top, letting it fall open as your breasts spill free and he groans, sucking one nipple into his mouth, then the other, his breath hot against your skin.

“Fuck the take,” he says, fumbling with his pants as he pulls out his cock heavy and hard. “Fuck your followers.” He grunts yanking your panties aside, pressing his tip against you, his voice dropping to a rasp. “You’re mine, fuck everything else.” He thrusts into you hard, his cock thick and unrelenting, filling you in a way that makes your head spin.

You moan loudly, sparks igniting behind your eyes as he decimates you right there on the pile of your own clothing haul.

His thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one stoking the fire you crave, his attention, his need, his everything and you arch into him, gasping, “Oh, please, oh, yes,�� your body singing with how perfectly he unravels you.

He fucks you harder, grinding against your clit with a relentless rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure sparking through your core. His hands squeeze your breasts, fingers kneading the soft flesh as he revels in the feel of you until you’re out of control, teetering on the brink, about to come.

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You think they’d watch you without me? You’re Austin Butler’s girlfriend, that’s why they care.” His words are degrading, laced with possession, but they light you up, sending you right over the edge as you came hard, trembling beneath him from the humiliating truth of it.

He thrusts against you deeper, grunting as the pleasure surges through him, your walls pulsing as he comes, and his release floods through you in a rush. His final thrusts are jagged, desperate, pushing in deep and sending aftershocks rippling through your body.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless, sprawled across the clothing. Sitting back on his heels, he rakes a hand through his hair, still panting. “I have an idea for your content…”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, sarcasm lacing your voice. “Let me guess, OnlyFans?”

“What?! no,” He says shooting you a look. “You’re my girl. I was gonna say I’ll pull you into my deals. So you don’t have to do all this.”

You blink still, processing. “You and me together in luxury brand photo shoots?” You say the idea sparking a thrill inside as you grin eyes lighting up.

He smirks, as cocky as ever, climbing over you and leaning in to brush his lips against your forehead. “They’ll lose their minds seeing us together,” he whispers, lowering his face to press kisses along your jaw. “And I’ll make sure every shot screams you’re mine.”

END 👗 📦 📱

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty

[feralgodmothers]

That bit with the headboard

False Intruder

Label Mature 18+

Summary Hanks been on edge ever since he brought home a cat named Bud, and now you wonder just how safe you are when you’re both startled awake in the middle of the night

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Hank protective • savior mode • kiss it better • affectionate • adoring •fingering • don’t wake the neighbors • sex against a headboard • p in v • nipple play • clit play• simultaneous orgasms • creampie• aftercare 🔗 Masterlist

✨ Inspo recent Caught Stealing pics

False Intruder

Your apartment with Hank is a shared haven, the kind that feels alive with both of your most cherished belongings, each one decorating the place with the life you’ve built together.

The bedroom is bathed in the glow of the city skyline as New York hums outside, a distant blend of car horns and the low rumble of the subway passing by… but inside, it’s just you and Hank, wrapped in your own little world.

You slip under the cool sheets after a long day, the bed settling softly beneath you. You’re wearing one of Hank’s t-shirts, the fabric soft and worn, carrying the faint scent of him, and the tart detergent of the corner laundromat.

Lying back, you watch Hank through the partially open bathroom door, his movements slow and methodical as he pulls his black boxers on, sliding them up his thighs in a way that has you mesmerized, the waistband snapping against his hips.

He brings a dark gray tee over his head, the fabric stretching over his broad chest, and you catch a glimpse of the faint scars across his torso…remnants of trauma he never speaks about.

Hank’s been off lately, you can see it in the way he’s lost in thought after he clicks off the bathroom light, the usual easy charm of him undercut by a jittery edge.

Ever since he took in that scrappy cat Bud to watch for a neighbor, he’s been paranoid, glancing over his shoulder, triple-checking the door locks. 

You don’t know if it’s the cat or something else, Hank’s not the type to spill his guts unless you pry, and even then, it’s like pulling teeth.

Bud climbs on the bed beside you his green eyes glinting in the dim light as Hank comes to sit on the edge. The cat proudly settles onto his lap, and Hank’s broad shoulders hunch as he scratches behind Bud’s ears, his calloused fingers gently moving in a way that makes you yearn for them.

“Love you, you little bastard,” he coddles, his voice low and warm as Bud purrs, a deep rumble that makes Hank’s lips quirk into a rare soft smile. “Yeah, yeah, you know it.”

You slide closer, resting your cheek against the pillow, watching them. “You gonna spoil that cat all night?” you jab, your voice playful and sleepy.

Hank glances at you, his blue eyes catching the city’s glow. “She’s getting jealous,” He whispers leaning down to press a kiss on Bud’s forehead and you can’t help but smile.

For a guy who’s built like he could break someone in half, Hank’s got a heart that sneaks up on you.

Bud stretches lazily and hops out of Hanks lap with a soft thud, padding across the hardwood floor with his tail flicking. 

He curls up onto Hank’s worn green duffle bag in the corner and you let out a sigh of relief. That cat’s been a third wheel non stop, wedging between you and Hank like he owns the place.

Hank slides into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as he brings his bicep under your head. He’s warm, and solid, his body a furnace as he pulls you against him, pressing your back to his chest. 

His other arm snakes around your waist, heavy and possessive as you feel the steady beat of his heart against your spine. 

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and a low hum rises from his throat. “You smell so good,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear, grazing it in a way that makes you melt into him.

“Better than Bud?” you quip, and you can feel his smirk against your skin. 

“Close call,” he says, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs, earning a playful grunt. He leans in closer pressing his lips to your neck kissing the curve soft and slow. “Mmm. Definitely you,” he confirms and, you smile as you give in to him, the city’s hum fading as you close your eyes.

His warmth, his scent, and the weight of his arm are enough to pull you under, and your breathing slows as you drift off to sleep together.

Hours later, a loud crash rips through the apartment, sharp and jarring. It barely registers, your mind sluggish, still tangled in sleep, until you feel Hank sit up his hand pressing your chest protectively.

“Stay here,“ he whispers, and you nod, your pulse hammering sensing the danger as he slides out of bed.

Hanks broad frame is tense as he heads to the corner near the bedroom door. His hand lowers down, fingers curling around the handle of his old baseball bat, the one he keeps propped against the wall  ‘just in case.’

The wood is worn and smooth from years of use…some of it not so innocent, and he grips it tight, his knuckles whitening. With his other hand, he pushes open the door and you sit up in bed watching him step out into the darkness feeling the fear rising in your chest.

The apartment is deathly still, the kind of quiet that amplifies every creak, every distant siren and you clutch the sheets, your mind racing. 

Was it a break-in? Is someone after him? You’ve seen the way he flinches at loud noises, the way his eyes dart to the door sometimes, like he’s expecting trouble. 

You strain to hear anything, your ears ringing with the effort, but there’s nothing. 

The weight of silence is suffocating making your heart pound harder until, a soft click—the living room light flicks on, a sliver of yellow spilling under the bedroom door. It clicks off just as quickly, and your breath catches as footsteps approach. 

Hank steps back into the bedroom, his silhouette filling the doorway. The bat is loose in his hand, no longer poised to swing, and his shoulders are relaxed having lost their tension.

“Bud,” he says, his voice rough and tinged with exasperation. “Knocked over that damn lamp in the living room. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding through you so fast it leaves you dizzy. “Hank,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your chest. “Hank, I thought…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, setting the bat back in the corner, the wood clunking softly against the wall.

He turns, his eyes catching yours, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “You were worried about me,” he teases.

“Yes, always,” you admit, your voice still trembling from the remnants of fear. “Don’t act all smug about it.”

He grins, slow and warm, climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, the air between you shifting into a different kind of energy…the kind that comes from facing danger and coming out unscathed.

Your heart is still racing with adrenaline and the way his eyes darken, you know his is too.

He pulls the blankets back, reaching for your thighs, his hands rough as he drags you down to him. He brings your legs around his waist, his blonde hair falling loose from behind his ears, his blue eyes warm and affectionate as his full lips curve into a soft smile looking down at you.

“You mean so much to me,” he confesses, his voice heavy with desire, his gaze locking onto yours like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he says, his hands gliding down your sides to your thighs, giving them a firm possessive squeeze that makes you ache for him, feeling the heat blooming deep in your core.

His hand slips beneath the hem of his t-shirt you’re wearing, and you sigh as his fingers slide into your panties, circling your clit, testing and teasing until you feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh, straining in his boxers.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he whispers, his voice low and reverent as he slips his fingers inside you.

You gasp as they move slick and sure, stretching you with slow, deliberate thrusts, your hands clutching his forearms, fingers digging in as the pleasure begins to take over.

His piercing blue eyes stay locked on yours, his blonde hair falling messily across his face framing his handsome features as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

“Hank… yes,” you moan, your voice trailing off as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that perfect spot with devastating precision, thrusting harder as your moans rise, raw and desperate.

Your hips rock against his hand, chasing the rhythm he creates, fast and overwhelming, your breaths hitching with every slick, unrelenting stroke.

His focus is entirely on you, jaw clenched with determination, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels your walls start to flutter around his fingers, knowing you’re close.

“Come for me,” he pants, seeing you lost in pleasure and you moan, your voice breaking off as you climax.

He presses his thumb firmly against your clit, circling with unyielding pressure, and the sensation sends a jolt of heat surging through your core, pushing you toward release with dizzying speed.

You come hard, your walls clenching tight around his fingers as he coaxes you through it, his thrusts faster, feeling the slickness between your thighs.

“So fucking good for me,” he breathes, his voice full of awe as he finally slips his fingers away.

You shiver, but he’s already moving, guiding you up and turning you around.

“Hold the headboard,” he says, and you obey, your fingers curling around the cold metal as he kneels behind you, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing possessively. 

“So fucking pretty like this,” he praises, his voice rough with want as pulls your panties down, the fabric skimming your thighs.

He lowers his boxers, and you feel the warm, blunt head of his cock glide along your slick folds, the sensation making you clench inside, your back arching to angle yourself better for him.

He lines himself up, his large hands gripping your hips, and he pushes in, slow and deep, filling you with a stretch that makes your clit throb as your walls squeeze tightly around his thick cock.

“Hank, fuck,” you cry out, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as his thighs press hard against the backs of yours and his cock settles deep inside.

He pulls you against him, his chest warm against your back. “So perfect on me” he whispers, his lips finding your neck, kissing soft and slow, his mouth moving desperately, as if chasing away the fear still lingering inside of you.

He moves with purpose, holding you tight to him as he thrusts, paced and measured, his cock hitting so deep it steals your breath, and he groans in your ear, heightening your pleasure with every push of his hips.

“Feels so good,” he pants, and you moan your voice wrecked as he slides one hand to your breast, squeezing firmly as his fingers tease your nipple. His other hand moves to your jaw turning you to kiss him, his lips pressing harder against yours between every well timed thrust.

The city’s glow paints the room in shades of midnight blues and purples, casting shadows over his tight muscles flexing as he drives into you, each thrust pulling a desperate moan from your lips.

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, that the neighbors might hear, that Bud’s probably watching from his duffle bag with judgmental cat eyes.

There’s only Hank and the way he fills you, the way he makes the world narrow to just this moment with him.

“Need you so much,” he rasps against your ear, his voice rough with want, nearing the edge of release.

Your hands clutch the headboard tighter, your knuckles aching, your body arching to meet his thrusts. “Need you too,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, urging him on.

He pulls you tighter against him, thrusting faster, deeper, harder, each stroke pushing you both closer, your bodies trembling on the brink.

He starts grunting, the adrenaline burning through you both as his thighs begin smacking against the backs of yours.

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, your voice breaking in to soft, helpless whimpers that drive him on.

“Fuck, come for me,” he whispers, hushed against your ear, his fingers finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles as your orgasm surges through you, your walls clenching on his cock as your moans pour out into the dark.

He groans your name as he follows, spilling into you, hot and thick, his cock pulsing as he buries himself deep. 

You both try to catch your breath as he wraps his arms around you, keeping you close, your bodies heaving together, until your drained and sated and he slowly pulls out as you shiver from the loss.

You collapse together and he pulls your back against him, his arms wrapping around you, his chest heaving. 

The city’s hum is back, a soft reminder of the world outside, but it feels distant and unimportant as Hank’s lips brush your shoulder, his breaths shallow and warm.

“I’m worried,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not like him to admit something like that, and the vulnerability in his tone makes your heart ache. “I just… I need to keep you safe.”

You turn in his arms, facing him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as his blue eyes search yours in the dim light, heavy with uncertainty.

“You do,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “We’re okay, Hank. Everything’s okay,” you reassure him, your words soft but firm.

He squeezes you tighter, pulling you against him like he’s trying to make himself believe your words, and as you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you can’t help but wonder what Hanks been dragged into in the city that never sleeps.

END 🧢⚾️

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

@purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff @laurenmcquilty @louisejoy86 @butlerrizz @kulturalismellektermek