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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

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austin butler - kissing in the bathroom

warnings ; intoxication, oral (f receiving)

request ; anonymous’ ask linked here

prompt ; in which austin takes it upon himself (with a bit of liquid courage) to help relieve your urges.

a/n ; there is clearly something wrong w me bc i got this request and literally wrote it in under 12 hours. it’s all over the place but that’s my life these days so please enjoy also this takes place during dune 2 filming and i used the cast so some things may be inaccurate but whatever

les - childish gambino

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

realistically, you’re not an irrational person. you like to think that you make decisions based off of facts, and that your brain is wired in a way where you don’t normally partake in things that are considerably risky. however, later, when you let austin butler go down on you in the bathroom at a crowded club in budapest, the pads of his fingers leaving bruises on your hips, dress hiked up to your belly button, you’ll start to question if you’re actually mentally stable.

realistically, you probably should’ve just seen a therapist for all your troubles instead.

“okay, wait, so run me through why you won’t go out tonight again,” florence pugh pesters you for the thirtieth time that day, puppy-dog eyes filled with hope piercing through you. somehow, when you look at her, you feel no guilt whatsoever.

you sigh, rolling your eyes, “dude, i’m not going to a club. i’m literally 25, i’m past that point of my life —“

“i’m 26.”

“and, you’re mentally ill. see, this is why i don’t hang out with you on set more often,” you tease, taking a bite out of the cookie you had snatched earlier from the snack cart. it tastes like cardboard, but you had no choice but to swallow it, seeing as your other options were the moldy sandwich from the shop nearby or day-old coffee from the cart. combined with your recent sleeping habits, you might as well have chosen death.

“no, you don’t hang out with me because you’re too busy being a director’s pet,” she sticks her tongue out at you, taking a bite out of the lunch she had packed herself earlier that morning. you two are cozily perched in director’s chairs you had stolen from set, hiding from the bustling commotion that is your reality. you had signed on to film dune 2 earlier that year, and although you thought you would be able to handle the adrenaline and stress that came along with filming an action movie, to be quite honest, you were utterly and entirely exhausted. every waking moment was spent running over lines with co-stars, and if not that, you were going through stunts with the coordinators.

your limbs ached and your eyes were bloodshot, but despite all that, you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. so, you did take advantage of that cookie that tasted like cardboard, because who cares? you love your job, isn’t that enough? fuck the sleep, fuck the mental health! your body is begging, screaming, for a break, but instead, you fuel it with red bulls and cardboard cookies and bandage it up to make good as new. so, you resolve to tell florence that that’s really why you’re not going to the club tonight.

but, because she’s florence, and she can’t keep her mouth shut for a second, she keeps going. “what’ll it take to convince you?”

“literally nothing,” you smile sarcastically, crumbs littering your shirt as you take another bite.

“nothing?” she questions exasperatedly, something between a groan and a sigh exiting her lips. “what if i told you everyone was going?”

you blink twice at her attempt to coerce you into spending time with your co-stars. sure, they were great people, but your bed was calling your name “you… really think that would make me want to go?”

“nah. it was worth a shot, though.”

you laugh at the relinquishment of her efforts, “but, i do want to know what happens tonight when everyone gets drunk.”

“oh, please,” she snorts. “nothing’s gonna happen. zendaya is so far up tom’s ass, we’re gonna see her text him all night.”

you chuckle at the truth of the statement, but a twinge of jealousy still makes its way through you. you hadn’t been in a serious relationship since your last one — the 6-foot-something athlete you dated, needs no name — and it ended so horrifically that you swore off men for the rest of your life. sure, you had frivolous flings with hollywood men, but nothing of importance enough to break down the wall that you guarded yourself with. “god, must be nice,” you mutter, playing with the hem of your shirt.

florence’s eyes light up, as if a lightbulb was powered on above her head. “okay.. hear me out. what if, we go out tonight and get you laid?”

the word sounds ridiculous rolling off her tongue, something you hadn’t thought about in months. you were comfortable with two people; your right hand, and your left hand. those were the only things you needed to get off and have a great time on your own. but, seeing the look on her face, you know she won’t take that for an answer. “in budapest?”

“tell me i’m wrong! a nice european man with an accent,” she’s now leaning forward in her chair, eyes sparkling as she goes on, “and he’ll buy your drinks all night. i mean, we were planning on getting a table tonight but at least this way, you can get drunk off whatever he buys you.”

“we haven’t even found a man yet, and you’re talking about him like he’s my boyfriend.”

“i have high hopes!” she exclaims, hands clasped together in delight, “you’re literally gorgeous, [y/n]. i’m sure that won’t be an issue.”

“i don’t want a random guy, though. it feels slimy,” you grimace. it really does sound unappealing to you, the thought of having to speak to someone for several hours before finally getting drunk enough to succumb to the animalistic urges you’ll inevitably feel.

“okay…fair. but, what if it’s not a random guy?” she raises an eyebrow, and you stare at her quizzically. surely, she can’t be headed with this where you think she’s going with this. “what about… someone we know?”

“no.”

it’s firm and it slips off your tongue before you even have a chance to let her finish. god forbid you let her even say the words, or you’ll wring her neck.

“but —“

“literally, no. like, who even would i possibly get with?”

“timothee?” the name almost makes you giggle, but you could only smile as to not embarrass him (even if he’s not present).

“definitely not him. he’s not my type,” you shake your head in disgust.

she taps her finger against her chin, pretending to look lost in thought, “okay, how about the cameraman everyone says is hot?”

“easy steve? are you kidding, flo? that’s your choice for me?” you cross your arms over your chest, staring at her in disdain. she couldn’t possibly be talking about the 20-something year old who had hooked up with half of the crew already.

“yeah… i felt bad even saying it. he’s definitely got something by now,” she goes back to her train of thought, list of men dwindling by the second as she realizes you two really don’t work with as many hot men as you think you do. but, just as she’s about to rest her case and close the conversation, she has an epiphany. “wait, what about austin?”

austin butler was what everyone referred to as an overachiever. not on purpose — no, he was too humble for that — but because he worked so hard to perfect his craft. you had to commend him for it, because you were willing to give it the old heave-ho and just let things be as is. he was a bit of a superstar on and off set, riding on the coattails of his newfound success from elvis, the movie he had filmed that had been released just a few months back. you were lying if you said you hadn’t seen the movie and nearly creamed yourself twice at his performance.

he was attractive — you could at least give him that — but he almost seemed too pretty to be real. despite all that, you weren’t even sure if you two had a full conversation before. the most you had gotten out of him was hey, how are you today? and they’re ready for you on set. you weren’t sure if he was scared of you, or just genuinely found no interest in getting to know you; regardless, it didn’t bother you. he seemed to fade into the background every time you came around, and you had already accepted that that was your working relationship with him.

“eh, too pretty for me.”

“really?” florence seems shocked by your statement. “you did see elvis, right..?”

“yeah, who didn’t?” you shrug, “i don’t know, i feel like he’s just there.”

she chortles at your statement, “what? he’s so cool, he makes the funniest jokes.”

okay, now you’re slightly offended. you could accept that maybe he was just a shy person all around, but if he was talking to everyone except you — including putting up with florence’s constant chatter — there had to be something severely wrong with you. “well, he’s never told me any jokes.”

a sneaky grin makes its way onto her face, and you can almost see the wheels turning in her little pea brain. “what, you jealous?”

“shut it. he just literally does not speak to me,” you don’t give in to her antics. “like, he’ll see me come across the way and then he’ll go mute. i’m fine with that, honestly.”

“fine, fine,” she raises her hands in defeat. “but, i still think you need to get laid. it’ll solve all your problems. and, plus, i’m offering to buy you a bottle of vodka for you to drink all by yourself.”

she knows she’s making offers to you that you can’t refuse.

“whatever,” you stand up from the chair, “i’m not going.”

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

maybe it’s the sleep exhaustion making you delusional, maybe it’s the two tequila shots you took by yourself in your hotel room, or, maybe it’s the conversation you had with florence earlier, but, somehow, you find yourself sandwiched in between your co-stars and crew members at a sweaty club in budapest, hungary.

it’s all florence’s fault.

you’re supposed to be tucked into bed, reading a book, possibly, or even lazily watching a netflix show while sipping a cup of tea. but, the rap music pounds into your ears, strobe lights casting colorful illumination across the dance floor. you clutch the vodka bottle closer to your chest, watching as sweaty bodies collided in a mere attempt to feel something. florence can sense your fear and desire to leave, and while you’re still staring intently at the crowd, she creeps up next to you. “so.. are you gonna drink the bottle i bought you, or are you gonna hug it all night?”

you look around the table, bottles being kept cool in ice buckets and napkins strewn messily across the wood, locking eyes with a few of your cast members. zendaya and timothee seem deep in conversation over something, probably a drunken talk about how zendaya hated crowds and more specifically, non-casual drinks. you’re debating on how you answer her question, following up with “well, eventually gonna drink it. soaking it all in now.”

“you need to catch up,” she says, but you can already smell the alcohol on her breath. there’s not much catching up to do; she’s probably already near obliterated. “i don’t wanna be drunk alone.”

you roll your eyes at her exaggeration, popping open the bottle of vodka that had been gifted to you, “fine, fine. if i have no choice,” and with that, you tilt the bottle back to meet your lips, your first sip of alcohol touching the back of your throat and causing you to gag repeatedly. you were no stranger to it; you had quite the party girl phase between the ages of 21 and 23.

with shaky hands, you bring the bottle back down to arms length, “happy now?”

“ecstatic,” she grins widely.

“hey, guys.”

you’re about to sputter out the alcohol you swallowed previously, but you manage to keep it together at the sound of austin butler’s voice echoing in your ear. despite the volume of the music, you still manage to hear him, which was the first time in a while you had actually noted the raspiness in his voice. he’s speaking to the group, not just you — definitely not you, poor boy has had his tongue tied around you for months — and everyone greets him excitedly. you clench your jaw at their reaction, rolling your eyes and taking another swig from your bottle. sure, tears are brimming your eyes from the burn of the vodka, but you rather that happen than have to watch everyone ogle over austin gracing them with his presence.

he doesn’t really acknowledge you, just raises an eyebrow in your direction, and you give a half-smile in return. all in all, you’re not ready to admit he looks surprisingly better than he normally does. he has on a white button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows, dress pants and all. his hair looks messy, but not in the way where you can assume he put no effort in his appearance, but that he clearly did try and tousle it a little. he still fits the description from earlier; too pretty to be real. like, who even wears that to a club? you feel whorish, slutty, raunchy, with your skin-tight red dress and black heels.

florence is now deep in conversation with easy steve, and you take the time to take another sip from your bottle. really, she must’ve been onto something, because leaving you alone with a bottle of vodka and your thoughts was lethal. you’re left to look around the table and see who else you could possibly strike up a conversation with. for some reason, timothee is fist-bumping, and your lips curl up in a smile at that. you decide that maybe you and your thoughts could have a good time on their own. you’re slowly swaying your hips in tune to the music, not concerning yourself with how much vodka you’re actually inhaling.

“having fun there?” one of the crew members smiles over at you, and you return the expression. he’s trying to be sweet, so why not entertain him?

“oh, yeah,” you nod, fingers gripping the neck of the bottle tightly as if it were your life jacket. “can you tell it’s my first time out in forever?”

“with the way you’re drinking?” he shakes his head, laughing, “you look like a veteran, honestly.”

out of the corner of your eye, you see austin reach out to pour himself a drink, while he’s also deep in conversation with another crew member; a girl. she giggles at something he says, and you’re about to bend his neck in half. the man must have some kind of vendetta against you, because really, he can’t stand to be around you or something? you turn your attention back to the man you were talking to, but you realize soon enough that you had been staring at austin for so long that he had found someone else to pay attention.

and, then it’s really just back to you, the bottle, and your thoughts.

you opt to take a few sips of cranberry juice from the carafe that is placed strategically on the table, knowing that’ll help ease the buzz the alcohol you’re sweeping through is giving you. you’re drinking at an alarmingly fast pace, and if everyone wasn’t so indulged in their conversations, they might have noticed you going through the bottle as if it were water. but, your feet remain in the same spot, swaying to the music calmly, not a worry in the world.

there’s shuffling around the table, people moving to talk to others they hadn’t gotten the chance to before, and you’re still humming with intoxication. you were way past tipsy, definitely drunk to the point where if florence had asked you to dance amongst the mosh pit of people, you would’ve said yes. you make small talk with a few, exchange jokes with zendaya, and you let yourself flirt with timothee. you know you’re not attracted to him, but you’re just so bored and drunk and alone and he did, in his drunken state, let his eyes roam over your body, so why not?

you abandon the bottle of vodka at some point, as it’s halfway done and serves nearly no purpose to you anymore. you’re at the perfect point of the night, where anything can happen and if someone were to dare you to do something idiotic, you would. it’s like this: every part of your body aches to do something absolutely stupid, and your brain is consistently egging you on, and your lips are flapping to make words that don’t even really make sense. you’re still coherent — they would’ve sent you home if you weren’t — and you rely on your senses to realize just who is standing next to you after the next round of shuffling around the table.

austin butler is awkwardly standing near you, words no use to him anymore as he just looks down at his feet. you’re already annoyed; no, not because of the alcohol, or because of the way his curls fall over his forehead, or the way he’s not speaking to you, but because of the fact that he’s not even trying to hide that he could care less to make conversation with you. or, well, that’s what you assume it is, because alcohol is invading your bloodstream.

you sit down on the couch behind you, leaning back to rest against the cushion. everyone seems to follow suit, their legs tired from moving around ever so slightly to engage in more talk. austin carefully sits down next to you, and you move your knees to point in the opposite direction, making sure to not let your skin come into contact with his.

“[y/n]!” florence squeals, and she’s stepping on austin’s toes as she squeezes herself on the other side of you. she’s so, so drunk, but she’s your closest friend on set and you love her dearly, so you find it endearing.

“hi, flo.”

okay, you’re so, so drunk too.

“i… love this place,” she gushes, taking a sip of her vodka cranberry that is clearly melted ice at that point. “like, i just love hungary. every time i go out in the u.k, i hate it. hate, hate, hate it.”

you giggle at her words, “what? i thought you loved going out there.”

she scrunches her nose as if your words were poisonous, “god, no. all those pricks out there aren’t half as fun as here.”

“you know, australia’s pretty fun too.”

the man of the hour finally speaks. you’re almost shocked to hear his voice so close to your ear, and you turn to look at the source. austin’s hair is considerably more messy than before, stains from his previous drinks littered across his shirt. his voice hugs you, and you feel a tingle in your core that you push aside because you’re so, so drunk and there is no way you’re letting his voice irritate you. if anything, you’re more shocked at the fact that he finally found a way to speak around you.

“really?” of course, florence is encouraging him on. “i haven’t been in ages, i’ve been meaning to go out there. you were in queensland, right?”

“yeah, we mostly went out ‘round there,” he now turns his body towards the two of you. “we did that for a good few months, before covid hit and everything.”

“oh, wow, where did you guys go out there? i might know a few,” florence says excitedly, giddy to have someone to converse with that wasn’t with your debby-downer attitude. you cross your arms over your chest like a toddler who hadn’t gotten their way, letting them tire themselves out with their chatter. they had stopped acknowledging you completely, just leaving you to listen in as if their talk was more important than anything in the world.

“i like sydney better,” you finally chime in — in a very snotty tone that throws florence off guard — and austin’s eyes widen a little, his head swiveling to face you.

“really?” he asks softly, almost coming out as a whisper against the rap music that blares from every corner. he’s lucky you can read lips. not that you were staring or anything.

“yeah,” you confirm, arms still glued to your chest. “just not really a fan of queensland.”

luckily, no one can tell that you’re literally lying through your teeth, because one: you have never been to australia in your entire life and two: if someone asks what clubs you’ve been to there, you were thoroughly fucked.

“no way! where in sydney have you been to?”

you were going to strangle florence pugh.

you smile, a shaky one that nearly falls off your lips, and your words are a little slurred as you speak, “oh, ya know, where didn’t i go? i can’t even remember the names, it was just so wild.”

that seems to be a good enough answer for the two of them — or, they’ve sussed out that you have no clue what you’re talking about — because they don’t push the issue any further. they move on to another topic, talking about filming and europe. you tune in and out of the conversation before reaching for your bottle once more. taking another swig, you hug it to your chest, replacing your arms.

“you know, [y/n], i’m soooo happy you came out tonight,” florence has finally reached the i love you speeches part of the night, but lucky enough for her, you’re more than capable of partaking in that.

“me too,” you grin goofily, tucking your hair behind your ear. “i love alcohol. and you. and budapest.”

“you weren’t gonna come out tonight?” he speaks directly towards you, and it takes you aback more than you’d like to admit, because for once, he’s not asking how you are or how’s the weather.

“yeah, wasn’t feeling it, honestly,” you shrug, still avoiding eye contact and playing with your hands that gripped the bottle.

“what changed your mind?” you can tell he’s drunk. god knows, he’s drunk because there is no way he’s actually speaking to you. he can’t even believe it himself, since he couldn’t muster the courage to say more than four words to you at a time.

“i don’t know,” you admit, “i really haven’t gone out in a while. felt like maybe it was overdue.”

“yeah, i felt the same,” he says, running a hand through his hair. you can’t help but notice how it descends perfectly onto his temple, and you finally look up to meet his eyes. they are ice-blue, something you had noticed before, but when you peer into them, you notice how they stare into your own, causing you to squirm in your seat. “haven’t been out in a while after my last movie. i don’t know if you saw it or anything.”

maybe it’s the alcohol creeping up on you, or the way his eyes are still gazing into yours, but you feel the need to keep the conversation going, uttering, “i saw elvis. you look—did good. did good.”

you were praying for a sink hole to open up in the middle of the dance floor to swallow you up whole.

thankfully, he spares you the embarrassment and doesn’t note that you almost confessed your attraction to him. no, no, not attraction. what the hell were you feeling? it was bizarre, he had spoken more than four words to you and you found yourself like putty in his hands. you were starting to see why everyone was laughing at his jokes on set; they probably weren’t even funny, his eyes were just piercing into them. “thanks. i saw your last film too.”

somehow, he keeps managing to shock you with everything he says. you chalk it up to liquid courage, because now this man is speaking to you as if he’s talked to you his whole life, with confidence and ease. “that piece of crap? god, i hated it.” it was entirely true; it was a netflix original that had you playing a high schooler at the grown age of 25.

he chuckles at your words, and you sit up straighter at the sound. for a moment, your heart almost betrays you, beating faster than its normal resting rate. “i get it. i was a nickelodeon star for a little. worst. years. of. my. life.”

your eyes widen a little as you come to a realization, your knees fully swiveling towards his body, “oh my god! yes! you were in zoey 101, weren’t you?”

“i was,” he smiles at you for the first time, and you’re overcome with a whirlwind of emotions; desire, attraction, possibly anger at the fact he waited that long to talk to you. and, so, you keep talking, because he’s good company and he likes hearing what you have to say. florence has fully disengaged from your conversation, entertaining herself with easy steve once more. you and austin talk about clubbing, what you enjoy to do in your free time, how you managed to get a college degree before becoming an actress, and he’s thoroughly hanging onto every word you say. liquor is still flowing, and you two even take a shot together before continuing to talk about nothingness.

you’re so enthralled in your conversation that you don’t notice when he rests his arm right above you on the edge of the couch, not touching your skin but enough to mark his territory. you’re not cognizant of his body fully facing you, knees touching yours as he watched your lips move with every word you spoke. “but, yeah, that’s why i moved to new york city. i feel like i made the right choice, ‘ya know?”

“oh, i get it,” he nods, “i’m trying to move from california. i think i like the city, did the broadway thing for a while and fell in love with it.”

“really?” your eyes are sparkling, and he takes a mental picture just for himself to envision later. “i love broadway. i used to see shows all the time.”

“what’s your favorite show?” he asks, genuinely interested in what you have to say, and it makes you feel seen, for once. men tended to look over you, and that might have been due to the people you were choosing, but you chalked it up to just them being disinterested.

“that’s a tough one,” you tap your nails against the 75% empty vodka bottle, “i would have to say wicked.”

“good choice,” his lips curl upwards into a smile once more.

“oh, i know my choice is impeccable,” you say sarcastically, and he throws his head back in laughter. you like the sound of it, to the point where you’re about to whip your phone out secretly and record it to listen to as a lullaby.

the nagging feeling of having to urinate is still pressing against your bladder, but your body refuses to get up. you’re captivated by the conversation you’ve partaken in, and the idea that if you move away from him might change anything is enough to keep you glued to your seat. but, you’re almost tempted to see if he would keep it going, to see if he would reciprocate the tension you’re feeling. florence’s words from earlier ring in your ear like a siren, and you have to clench your thighs to stop yourself from getting carried away. no, he definitely is just being nice. he’s drunk and wants someone to talk to, and frankly, so do you.

so, you decide to stand up, placing the vodka bottle down on the table and smoothing out your red dress. “hold on, i’ll be back. i just have to pee.” he answers with a slight nod. he misses the feeling of your knees pressed against his, and notices as soon as the contact is gone.

as you try and find your way to the bathroom, you let your delusions get the best of you, and you begin to hope, pray, that he follows you in there.

you actually really do have to pee, and you do sit down on the toilet, but some sickly part of you wants him to walk in there and tempt you. you don’t even know what you’re thinking — this man has continuously ignored you for months. but, florence’s words just haunt you as you think that maybe you do need to get laid, and austin isn’t the worst option out there. he’s tall, he smells good, he’s got a gorgeous laugh and stunning eyes. jesus christ, get a grip.

you’re about halfway out the bathroom door, drunkenly stumbling over your heels, before you fall right into someone’s arms.

upon contact, you know exactly who you landed into.

but, to confirm, you look up through hooded eyelids to make eye contact with austin, his arms still holding your biceps. “shit, my bad,” he says softly, swallowing the rest of the saliva that pooled in his mouth.

“yeah, no worries, i was just, um, going back out there.”

“yeah, no, of course.”

he says that but still makes no attempt to let you go.

“is it still fun out there?”

“it’s alright. florence went home.”

“oh.”

quit the small talk, you’re hoping he’s telepathic and hearing every word you’re yelling at him in your brain.

he finally releases you, and you fall back a little. he scratches the back of his neck nervously before asking feebly, “can i ask you a question?”

you’re hoping your eyes don’t look as if they’re about to fall out of their sockets. “what’s up?”

“uh — well, i, um,” all his confidence from earlier dwindles into thin air, “uh, was just wondering if —“

you raise an eyebrow, “yes?”

“i, uh, heard you earlier talking to florence.”

“and?”

“…ya know, about needing to hook up with somebody.”

where was that sinkhole to swallow you up?

“how’d you even hear us?” you manage to muster out in horror. it was more disbelief, but he must’ve moved with so much stealth that you didn’t even notice him, the way he hadn’t noticed you.

“i-i was just walking by, and then, heard my name and all —“

“oh, yeah, ‘cause that’s not creepy,” you say sarcastically.

“right,” he avoids your eyes now, focusing on some stain on his shoes. in all honesty, you’re not sure what he’s even getting at, because now that he was back to being unable to formulate words around you, you weren’t even sure you were attracted to him any longer. but, you were intoxicated, so that thought lasted about two seconds. “listen, i’m just gonna be honest.”

“okay.”

“would you… want to hook up?”

you’re stunned. you had never been so stupefied in your entire life, and you feel as though someone just yanked you off the spinning planet, leaving you to float in space. your jaw fell slack at his suggestion, silence overtaking the two of you despite the music that still blasted through the speakers. “what?” you have to ask, because there’s no way he’s being serious.

“we don’t have to — i mean, you don’t have to do anything. plus, i think i kinda have whiskey dick, but i could eat you out or something —“

he is being serious.

“you… want to go down on me?” you’re almost intrigued, because no man had ever offered to do something without getting some form of stimulation in return. you’re thinking back to all the horrible things you said about him, and discarding every last one.

he nods.

“you don’t even… you barely talked to me.”

“yeah, i-i’m sorry ‘bout all that, i just get nervous,” he draws his lips in between his teeth, and you think you might collapse then and there and someone’ll have to scrape your body off the floor. “kinda had a little crush on you.”

“are you serious?” you ask incredulously. “we exchanged four words.”

“yeah, i-i know, listen, i feel bad about all that, i just literally —“

you’re not even about to let him keep going on with his ramblings, and you find yourself dragging him by his shirt collar into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. you lean against the wood, cooling your body that seemed to warm up from his words. he faces you, lips parted and cheeks blushed. “okay, this is crazy.”

“i know —“

you held up a finger, pausing him mid-word before he could utter anything else that barely resembled a full sentence. he was so lucky there was even an ounce of alcohol flowing in your system, because all those feelings of desire and longing are lingering in your brain, demanding that you listen to them. “this is crazy. and, the fact that i’m even slightly considering it is concerning me more.”

his mouth parts as he’s about to respond before you shake your finger, indicating that there’s more left to your sentence. “if, if we do this, you cannot tell anyone.”

he nods again, this time like a lost puppy.

“i’m not kidding, austin. no one can know about this,” you repeat, hoping the words drill into his brain.

“no one will know.”

“i’m only doing this because it’s been a while, okay, like a good few months.”

“okay.”

he’s looking at you eagerly, as if he were ready to devour you and you’re suddenly overcome with every bit of desire for him, wetness pooling between your thighs and soaking your underwear. your heart thumps loudly in your ear as you mull over his offer. weirdly enough, he is your best option at that point in the night. it was either austin butler, the man who apparently has pined for your affection the entire time, or some sweaty stranger plucked from the dance floor. you repeat the same word he had, because what else is there to say when austin butler is begging you to let him eat you out? “okay.”

he blinks twice, an expression full of shock and a tad of confusion plastered on his face as he realizes you’re consenting to it, to him. he moves towards you, and your eyes are locked into his. you’re not even sure if you’re breathing properly as he reaches out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your jaw.

you take the moment to really, finally, look at him. his nose juts out at the perfect angle, blue eyes calming you as if they were waves melting into rocks, his plump, pink lips parted slightly as he exhaled. he was angelic, and you nearly shot yourself from the thought of ever looking past him. he’s doing the same with you; taking note of every single freckle, every mark that adorned your face. he was irrevocably entranced by you. he leans in towards you, hand cupping your chin, “‘m gonna kiss you now.”

you’re still nodding as he pulls your chin towards his to meet his warm lips that taste like alcohol, and you’re immediately paralyzed by the way your lips collide with his, meshing perfectly as if they were always meant to. he’s kissing you fiercely to make you want more, but not to be sloppy. your wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his body closer into you, back firmly pressed against the door. surprisingly enough, despite the drunken state you’re both trapped in, you move in sync and the arousal in your panties only escalates, burning your entire body.

you pull away for a moment of air, inhaling and exhaling at a sharp rate, and he doesn’t miss a beat, only going down to your neck to press light kisses, then suck. he continues the pattern, and you find yourself running your fingers through his curls, soft moans slipping from between your lips. you’re too blind to even realize what’s actually going on, that you’re really in a bathroom at a club in budapest, hungary, making out with your co-star. you hope your alarm clock doesn’t suddenly go off.

his tongue swirls around a sweet spot on your neck, and you bite your lip to contain the moan that’s begging to be let out.

and before you’re really going to protest or say anything remotely coherent, he sinks to his knees, the cold tiles grounding him as his hand roams up your thighs. you’re just watching, in complete and utter disbelief, as he slowly bunches up your dress to around your belly button, revealing your pair of panties that were absolutely dripping. you should be embarrassed — in fact, you definitely are — but he only looks up at you submissively, eyes interlocking selfishly. “can i?”

you nod, lip still stuck in between your teeth. you watch as he slips your underwear right down your legs, pressing a light kiss to your thighs. he looks back up at you one last time, for that one last confirmation he needed, and you give it to him, your hand entangling in his hair as you push his head to where you need him the most.

his hands make their way around your hips, pressing into the bone as he steadies your body against the door. just when you think you’re about to beg for him, that you might have to embarrass yourself further, he presses his tongue, flat, against your folds, and you whimper at the contact. he licks carefully, deliberately, as if he knows just what to do to make you unfold, as if he’s done this his whole life.

his lips slip around your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves and causing you to throw your head back and slam it on the wood behind you. he’s encouraged by your response, working faster as his tongue flicked against your clit repeatedly, the stimulation almost too much to bear. “o-oh,” you moan out, tugging at his hair and moving your hips against his face, nearly riding his lips at that point.

it had been a long time since you had someone go down on you, but never like this. your eyes are squeezed tight, strings of profanities amongst his name coming out your lips like the only words you ever knew. your juices ran down his chin messily, and he moves one of his hands from your hips down to your folds, parting them to get better access to your core. “fuck, austin,” is all you can say. he’s just watching, admiring you from down there as he works feverishly against your pussy, lapping up your juices.

your eyes meet for just a flash, and you suddenly feel shy, as if he wasn’t really eating you out on the floor of a bathroom, as if you hadn’t known for him for a good six months. his lips are coated in your juices, fingers soaked as well, blue eyes now darkened as he sloppily devours you. he wants you to cum, right onto his face, to feel you come undone because of him. he hooks two fingers into you, reaching a spot you had only ever done yourself, and you jolt forward. your body is trembling as he just fucks you with his finger, nose pressed against your lower body as he buries his lips, tongue darting at your clit.

just when you think you’re already down for the count, that he already was going to make you cum harder than any other man ever could, he reaches out to hoist one of your legs on his shoulder, and you instinctively push him further into you, as if it were even possible. his tongue is circling your clit, and you can feel it, the sensation you’d been dreading bubbling in your abdomen, because indisputably, you do not want this to end. you’re a moaning, screaming, shaking mess and austin is pinning you down against the door, fighting to get you to your release.

his fingers work desperately in and out of you, and he moans against you at the feeling of your walls tightening around his fingers. you can’t even fight the feeling, or try and delay it, because it’s overwhelming you to the point where you’re screaming his name and begging for more, to take you to the edge. “austin, oh my god, please, i’m so fucking close —“

“come on, baby. i want you to cum on my face,” he speaks against your core, hot breath waning over your aching entrance as he rapidly continues to stretch you out with his digits, and you’re done fighting; you want nothing more than to release all over his stupid pink lips, and his stupid perfect face that you can’t believe is at your mercy right now.

this could possibly be the most toe-curling, back-arching, mouth-foaming, eyes-rolling orgasm of your life, and it washes over with so much power you’re shocked you’re even still standing. his fingers are still inside you as your walls spasm and contact around them, hands reaching out to grip onto his shoulder in desperation. you let out a choked sob, as white washes over your vision, your body completely shattering into little pieces. he pulls his fingers out of you, hypnotized by the way your cheeks flush, eyelashes fluttering as you struggle to recover.

and, you’re still quite not sure you’re alive moments later, balancing yourself against the door as you try to contain your breathing. you look down at him, and you observe as he utilizes his fingers to wipe the remaining juices off his chin and lips, licking every last drop clean.

you’re rendered speechless, useless to him as you can’t even formulate a word, just one measly word to say to him. he gets up, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you’re still standing there, panties still draped around your ankles. “you good now?” he asks, almost coolly, as if his tongue wasn’t buried inside of you mere minutes before.

“i-i — yeah, i, uh, guess so. thanks, i guess,” you swallow, eventually gathering your last ounce of strength to pull your panties back up, pulling down your dress to your thighs. “you go out first, i’ll catch up. don’t want anyone to suspect anything.”

he just nods, looking like he’s about to say something but instead swallowing thickly before walking back out into the club. you hear the sound of the music for just a second when he opens that door, before you’re engulfed by the silence as soon as it swings closed. you look over at yourself in the mirror, makeup partially ruined and hair matted from the sweat. you’re not even sure you can walk properly, scared to even try. you feel like a baby bird who’s trying to leave the nest for the first time.

with one last exhale of oxygen, and the little resilience you still have left in your body, you swing open the bathroom door, flattening out your dress again and meeting the bustling crowd of people that happened to remain at this hour.

you’re hoping it’s not obvious that you just had the best orgasm of your life in that bathroom.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

yeah, you’re going to need to see that therapist.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#i need mental help #austin butler #austin butler angst #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler gif #austin butler fanfic #elvis 2022

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yelenasdiary · 2 years

Note

flo x reader halloween request where they are at a halloween party. maybe with other celebs and they are both dressed up(idk as who) but anyways just fluff maybe a little jealousy and if your comfortable smut?

Eyes Only For You || Flufftober

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: A little jealously at a party brings you and Florence closer

Fluff | Slight Angst | 1.1K | Typical Partying Content Warning |

AC: I hate how in Australia we don’t celebrate Halloween as much as everybody else! I’ve always wanted to go trick or treating and dress up, even just go to a damn Halloween party but I’ve never been invited to any, so I’ll just live through Halloween with fanfics lmao! I didn’t include smut because I only do smut for characters as I’m not exactly comfortable with smut for the actor / actress. I hope you enjoy this! X

Flufftober Masterlist

The room was packed with many people, people you recognised and some you didn’t. Florence and you had been invited to a Halloween party for a charity event to help raise money to those in need. There were so many great costumes and people just having an overall good time. The music was loud enough to drain out conversation causing people to practically hell in conversation, there was an open bar with what seemed like an endless supply of alcohol.

Florence’s love language was touch so it wasn’t unusual to find her with her arms wrapped around your waist or a hand on your lower back or on your hips, but you never thought it would bother others. Some of the guests were influencers, other celebrities and you never knew how but there were fans of many people here. They somehow manged to get exclusive access to the event. It sometimes worried you not knowing what others intentions were. The whole world knew about you and Florence and for the most part it you both received endless love and support from friends, family, and her fans but sometimes that wasn’t the case.

You squeezed Florence’s hand lightly as she catches up with co-star and friend, Timothée Chalamet. You did this whenever you start to feel uncomfortable, or your anxiety was playing up. Florence looked at you and smiled softly, “Are you okay?” she asked as Timothée took a sip of his drink. You nodded but your eyes drifted to the small circle of girls that kept looking over to the three of you and whispering amongst themselves. Florence’s eyes look over to them and she threw them a friendly smile before looking back at you, “don’t worry about them darling, you look amazing” she kissed your cheek softly.

“I’m loving the costumes! Whose idea was that?” Timothée smiled. Florence and you had decided to try and dress up as something different, something that people wouldn’t exactly expect from the pair of you. You both settled on going as “Xena Warrior Princess and Gabrielle”. Florence absolutely rocking the outfit of Xena that blew your mind. The conversation wasn’t long lasting as Florence was swept away for some press, you tried to keep track of her but eventually lost her within the crowd of the party.

You found yourself talking with Hailee, Zendaya and a few other friendly faces you knew. Sipping your drink through a straw to prevent from being spiked, a fear you’ve always had. You were enjoying the small talk with the others and sharing memories from other events you have met at before you felt arms wrap around your waist making you feel at once again.

“Sorry about that, I just need to do some things” Florence kissed your cheek once again. “You don’t have to apologise; we are having a great time over here” you smiled. The conversation picked up again as you all discussed different costumes, horror movies and drinks to give a try. Florence got you a refill and have her free arm draped around your hips as you stood close to her. Photos were taken and you forgot about the girls from before.

“Excuse me, Florence?” a voice made you both turn around, a fan you thought and gave them a smile. “Hi there, how are you?” Florence being her loving herself greeted them with smiles and hugs before they asked for selfies which she happily took. Florence didn’t pick up on it, but you could clearly see by the way one of the girls couldn’t keep her hands off Florence’s arm and the glares she sent your way that she was flirting. You ignored it knowing Florence and you had nothing to worry about, but you couldn’t ignore how uncomfortable it started to make you feel.

“You should so come into my work one day! I made the best tea!” the girl boosted her skills, “or maybe we could grab a tea date one day” she added. Florence smiled softly, “that sounds lovely, maybe I will come down to the café one day just depends on if I’m ever down that way” she replied.

“Oh of course! I’d love to show you around my town, we have the cutest little clothing stores, and you’d love the handmade jewellery!” she says as she gently grabs Florence’s wrist to look at the bracelet she was wearing. “This is so cute! I have to know where you got it” she spoke. Florence just smiled softly once more, “actually, Y/n got it for me. So, you’d have to ask them” she replies. The girl looked at you in an almost disgusted look, “Oh” she mumbled, “W-where did you get it?” she asked in a lowered tone.

“I had it made” you replied sternly, Florence looked at you and saw how uncomfortable you were as your eyes didn’t stay on the girl for very long. “Well, it’s pretty but trust me, the handmade stuff in my town is to die for!” she grabbed Florence’s attention and making you shake your head slightly and walk off to the bar. You’d gotten Florence the gold bracelet for your 1-year anniversary, and she’s never taken it off, only when she’s in the shower, washing dishes or she has to wear certain jewellery for an event. The way the younger girl tried to fake her interest in Florence’s taste was making your blood boil.

The bartender replaced your drink with a fresh one as you watched Florence try to escape the girls as friendly as she could. She made her way to you and placed her empty glass on the bar. “Honey are you okay?” she asked knowing you weren’t. “Yeah, I just…I just didn’t like how flirtatious she was. I’m sorry, you know I’m not usually the jealous type, but I didn’t like the way she brushed off the bracelet and tried to convince you something else was better” you admitted.

“Oh darling” Florence placed her hands on your hips and pulled you closer to her, “I think it’s cute when you get jealous, but you know I’m yours and you are mine” she smiled softly while looking into your eyes, “and I’m glad she didn’t really like my bracelet because that showed me her taste wasn’t the best” she chuckled finally getting a smile from you, “there’s that beautiful smile I love” Florence commented before kissing you tenderly. “I’m sorry again” you said with a pout.

“Don’t be sorry my love, you are allowed to get jealous and uncomfortable. Do you know how many times I’ve gotten jealous when somebody drags you away from me?”

“You get jealous?” you playfully cocked a brow. “Of course, I do, you’re mine” she smiled and kissed you once more, “now take me to the dance floor and so I can show everybody I only have eyes for you” she adds after the kiss.

“Yes, Princess. As you wish” you smiled and gently took her hand, giving it a kiss on the top before leading her to the dance floor.

#florence pugh #florence pugh x reader #fanfiction #flufftober

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