Jasmine / Truly, madly, deeply spellbound by Austin Butler. Austin Butler's princess, good girl, and his loving, eager cum slut. I am older than Austin, so I am definitely over 21. Insta & Twitter JasmineHowever She/her cis female
Austin Butler intense smut and fluff. 🔥❤️ Very graphic and very romantic, just like me. 💯
My first ever completed fanfic. I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for reading. ❤️
Summary: Austin has a very kinky fetish, but luckily you are eager to satisfy him.
Warnings: Fingering, unprotected P in V, cum eating and cum drinking, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving, Austin receiving), multiple orgasms, some soft Dom Austin themes, sexy begging, simultaneous orgasms, Austin is a bit possessive, some aftercare, lots of loving use of the word "slut," established relationship.
Acknowledgements:
Thank you to @austinbutlerslovers for inspiring me to finally go for it, giving me the necessary encouragement to publish it, and more. ❤️
Thank you to @faegoddessog for proofreading one of the iterations of my story. ❤️
Champagne Flute
Austin is sitting naked on the loveseat by the master bedroom window. The moonlight is illuminating him, as well as the tranquil ocean outside the window. You are madly in love with Austin, because of the beautiful person he is on the inside, but whenever you look at him, you still can't help but notice how unfathomably beautiful he happens to be on the outside as well.
You are at yours and Austin's secluded vacation villa. He is waiting for you in the bedroom, holding a champagne flute in his hand. The flute has some milky liquid in it. Austin is looking into the glass, lost in thought, while swirling the liquid around.
He wanted to try something new with you tonight. Since you are always eager to please him, you readily agreed without question.
When he sees you enter the bedroom, he smiles mischievously and says, "I have something for you, my love." You inquire, "What is it, Austin?" Your stomach fills with anticipation of what his mysterious, sexual request might be. Austin smiles again as he admits, "I jerked off a few minutes ago and ejaculated into this champagne flute for you."
A look of surprise crosses your face. You had known that he wanted to try a new kink, but when you agreed to be obedient, you didn't know that he intended for you to literally drink his cum. You approach him with intense curiosity.
Austin extends the glass to you, but as you reach for it, he pulls it back. "Get completely naked and kneel by my cock, then I will allow you to drink my cum," he asserts and places the champagne flute on the dresser, as he stands up.
With a twinkle in your eyes and a smile on your face, you sweetly utter, "Yes, Austin." Seeing that he seems very serious about this kink, you obediently proceed to take off your clothes.
As you undress, Austin touches your exposed body. He sucks each of your nipples when you take your bra off. You can't help but moan. He puts his middle finger in his mouth to wet it and as soon as you take your panties off, he slides it into your pussy.
Austin is holding you tight, kissing you deeply. You moan and whimper into his mouth, as he fucks you with his fingers.
Once Austin withdraws his fingers from your cunt, he licks your wetness off his fingers, while making intense eye contact with you. He then guides you to kneel by his cock. Already knowing what he wants, you ask him with pleading eyes, "May I drink it now, Austin?”
He smiles at how you beg for it, your actions causing him to become hard again. Since you are being very good and obedient, he rewards you.
“Yes, you've now earned the privilege of drinking my cum. Go ahead and swallow it, like my good, needy, little cum slut," he teases. Looking down at you with a smile, he hands you the glass.
You take the champagne flute full of Austin's cum, and while kneeling by his beautiful cock and looking into his love-filled eyes, you start to drink it.
Wanting to please Austin, you swallow it all down, slurping it. You then lick inside the glass, to get every possible drop of Austin's love juice.
Austin is stroking himself, while watching you desperately drink his cum. His cock engorges and stands fully erect for you.
"You are such a good girl for me, my enchanting Angel," Austin praises you with a smile on his satisfied face.
You kiss his hot, reddened cockhead and lovingly tell Austin, "Thank you, Austin. I love your cum." He collects the empty glass from you. You find yourself so turned on, you bite your lower lip, while looking at Austin with intense passion. You delicately cup his velvety balls with your left hand, while you take some of the wetness from your folds with your right hand and wrap your wet, right hand around Austin's eager, waiting cock. You then liberally lick your lips and wrap your wet lips around his superb cock, swirling your tongue around the tip and tonguing the hole, while you gently stroke his veiny shaft, milking Austin in every way you can. You suck gently and slide your mouth along his cock, bobbing your head as you suck, continuing to make loving eye contact with Austin. Austin's fingers are gently grasping your hair, his hands slowly guiding the movements of your head on his cock. The sounds of your sucking and his moans fill the room. You are hoping to suck out any and all of his cum that may have remained. As he moans in pleasure, you moan around his girth. Austin always goes feral for the feeling of your wet mouth and your skilled, agile tongue on his cock.
After a few minutes of you licking and sucking his dick, he pulls you up to standing. "I’m going to fuck your pussy now," Austin informs you, full of arousal. He gently pushes you back onto the bed. You lay back on the covers and excitedly spread your legs for him. As Austin climbs up your body, he stops halfway, unable to hold himself back any longer. He dives onto your pussy with his mouth, sucking your clit, while plunging his long fingers into your wetness.
"I will never get over how soaked you get for me every single time you have my cock in your mouth," he says. "I am addicted to it, Austin," you quietly admit to him.
He keeps fingering you, his curled fingers hitting the spongy, sensitive part inside you with every thrust. You gasp, then moan and whimper, as he increases the intensity of his fingers in your pussy and of his mouth on your clit. It makes you tremble and lose control of yourself, because it feels so incredibly good. Austin always makes you feel so magically good, he is like a sorcerer of your body. And much to your heart's delight, Austin feels the same way about you.
Austin finger-fucks you harder still, while flicking your clit with his tongue, readying your tight pussy for his large cock.
He is so skilled with his nimble hands and his versatile mouth that you orgasm very quickly, screaming his name. But Austin doesn’t stop. He continues to suck your clit and to finger your cunt, while you writhe and tremble beneath him in overstimulation. It's too much, yet you love too much from Austin. "I can't. Oh, God! Baby, please," you whine. Austin loves seeing you overstimulated. He chuckles, "Mhmm. Nice try, my love, but not so fast." You feel like you can't take any more, but you want it all! You can't get enough of Austin. "You are going to orgasm for me again now,” Austin insists, “I love watching you cum, honey! You look fucking mesmerizing when you lose control for me." Austin forces you to have a second orgasm, making you squirt all over his lips and his fingers. You tremble.
“Now, I'll fuck you for real, my beautiful Princess," he states, smiling, knowing he has already satisfied you twice. He sucks your juices off his fingers. You look at him in dazed awe.
Austin climbs up your body, aiming his engorged cock for your wet core. In his fervent arousal, Austin inserts and hastily pushes his entire length into you in its entirety, while he firnly palms your ass cheeks. The large size of Austin's cock always gives your pussy an intense workout, thankfully he always makes sure you are insanely wet and turned on for him before he fucks you. You moan and so does he. "Ooh" is all you can muster at this point. "Oh, fuck, you are so wet and so tight! Your pussy feels fucking perfect around my cock!" Austin breathes out. His soft, strong hands roam your body, sending tingles all over you, causing your arousal to escalate, as he starts thrusting in and out of you. You feel so intensely stimulated. The squishy sounds of him fucking your wet cunt are driving both you and Austin wild. Your hands are on Austin's firm ass, trying to pull him deeper into your pussy with each of his dives into you. You grind your pelvis into him each time he thrusts into you driving you both even more wild.
He fucks you so deeply and so passionately, you tremble under him, moaning uncontrollably. "Austin, this feels too good. I feel so full,“ you whimper, “I don't know what I am feeling. These sensations are so intense. Oh, God!"
Austin responds to your pleas on each of his thrusts, as his hands settle on your hips, holding them tightly, "Tell me ... how much ... you love me fucking you ... How much ... you love my cock ... What a slut you are for my cum ... Tell me how much ... your pussy needs to be filled by me ... only me ... You want me to pump you full of my cum? ... Beg for it ... Beg me like a good slut ... Show me how needy you are for my cock and for my cum!"
“PLEASE, Austin, please,” you cry out, as he continues to fuck you hard, his balls repeatedly slapping against your body, adding to the intense stimulation. Austin's lips graze your neck, then he captures your mouth, kissing you deeply. Your pussy gets wetter and wetter, as it pulses around Austin's firm cock. His raspy grunts into your mouth and his tightening grip on your hips give away that he is getting close to cumming.
His breathing is getting heavier, as he thrusts into you even harder. It feels so good, you feel like you are practically losing your mind.
Then Austin yells, "Beg for my cum! Beg for it now! Beg to be filled by my cum! Beg me!” His thrusts falter, his orgasm is imminent, and he wants to hear you say the words that will push him over the edge.
You are at a loss for words, unable to beg him. Your eyes are gently rolling to the back of your head. You are completely lost in the pleasure of Austin's cock, as he powerfully satisfies your core with every delicious move of his body.
Through clenched teeth, he growls, "I am almost ready to fill your slutty, little hole with my cum. Fucking BEG me for it!"
His commands finally snap you out of your trance.
“A-austin! Pleeeaaase fill me with your cum!” you beg him, full of desperate arousal. Experiencing your 3rd orgasm of the night, your pussy flutters around Austin's cock, as his pulsing cock drains all his cum into you. You love the sensation of Austin painting the walls of your pussy with his warm cum. He lets out a loud roar, lustily filling you to overflowing, with some of his cum dripping out of your cunt and running down your thighs and your ass, as he continues thrusting into you.
Eventually, Austin plunges deep into your core a final time and stops thrusting. You gasp, shiver, and let out a long, shaky breath. You and Austin are both panting, looking at each other adoringly, both blissed out of your minds. Austin is ecstatic that you fulfilled his fantasy so perfectly. With his cock still deep inside you, you both roll to the side, your bodies lovingly intertwined. He kisses you passionately, while holding you tight, his cock staying in you all the while.
"Fuck! I love you so much, my Princess! Nobody else could ever make me feel the way you do, I swear you were custom-made for me. I am so wildly in love with you, my darling,” Austin says, ”And I love what a total slut you are for only me." Beaming with intense love, you smile happily at him. "I love you more than I can put into words, Austin," you confess, "I will always be a perfect slut for only you and fulfill your every fantasy, my love."
"One question for you, though, honey, what did you think of my new beverage idea?" he smirks, with a gorgeous dimple appearing over the left side of his lip. You chuckle, then smile gleefully, swooning, as Austin's sexy cuteness threatens to activate your arousal all over again, "It's my new favorite beverage, sweetheart. You can make it for me again anytime!" He winks at you. You bite your lower lip. Less than a moment later, his lips are on yours, overtaking your mouth. You almost can't handle how much you love Austin and how much he turns you on, but you love every single second with him. You melt into each other as you continue to kiss for a few more minutes, neither one of you able to stop.
You and Austin are fans of showering before bed, usually together, in fact. Tonight, however, feels different, and both of you just want to stay as you are. You kiss again passionately, and drift off to sleep in each other's arms, Austin's cock continuing to remain inside you.
❤️ The end. ❤️
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️
Tagging some of you beautiful people, who I thought might enjoy my story. ❤️
Summary Your boyfriend Austin is quite the culinary expert, so when he suggests Sundays as pizza night…you don’t just order it…you make it….from scratch… with fresh ingredients chosen at the local farmers market, creating something delicious together that becomes a romantic evening.
💝Romantic Smut💝 Austin as your quasi -chef boyfriend• domestic bliss• romantic fluff • couples farmers market trip • hand in hand • public displays of affection (small gestures) • cooking together • food as offering of love • sweet talk• teasing • praise kink• devout eating-oral on fem • clit play • sex for dessert• he talks you through it • multiple orgasms •cream pie• declarations of love• after care
🔗 Masterlist
📖 Proofreader @purejasmine ✨ Inspo via Request 💌 his affection in puppy photoshoot 🐶 him in light blue 🩵
Made with Love
It’s late afternoon at the bustling farmers market, the air is filled with the scent of fresh herbs, warm bread, and artisan-crafted delicacies.
Austin, with his brown hair loose and designer sunglasses on, strolls hand-in-hand with you along the aisles, his fingers gently interlaced with yours.
He’s wearing a powder blue short-sleeve Carhartt shirt, the small logo visible on the chest pocket, and his light blue jeans are soft and fitted, giving him a relaxed and effortless look.
You’re almost matching in your baby blue sundress that sways with each step, his hands having cinched the strings at the back before you stepped out together, carrying a tote bag over your shoulder.
You’re caring for his photographer friend Matthew’s pet, Bingo, while he’s away on a shoot, the border collie trotting happily beside you, his nose sniffing curiously at every passing stall with his leash draped loosely over Austin’s wrist.
“Alright, babe,” Austin says, his voice soft but playful, his blue eyes filled with excitement as he glances at you.
“Our pizza nights are going to be serious. We need the perfect ingredients. No toppings to hide flavors on a Margherita..I’m counting on your mozzarella expertise.”
You laugh, nudging him lightly with your hand. “Wait, you’re the one who’s been hyping up your legendary Margherita sauce recipe all week. I’m just here to make sure you don’t sneak tuna onto the pie.” You tease.
He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest in pain. “Tuna? Tuna on a pizza? I would never baby, you wound me.”
You can’t contain your grin, and Bingo let out a little bark, as if backing him up and you both dissolve into a fit of laughter, drawing a few curious glances from nearby shoppers.
The market is alive with color, crates of vibrant tomatoes, bundles of fresh basil, and wheels of creamy mozzarella stacked high at the cheese stalls.
You and Austin wander from vendor to vendor, tasting and testing playfully. He always gives you first bite, holding out the sample with his hand beneath, both of you trying not to grin as you lean in to taste.
Bingo, ever the charmer, earns a few awwws and ear scratches from vendors as Austin splurges on an expensive jar of artisanal olive oil and soft mozzarella from a brine bath.
Finally, you reach the pinnacle.
“Okay, hear me out,” Austin says, holding up a bunch of fragrant Genovese basil with a mock-serious expression.
“This is the soul of the pizza. You can’t skimp on the basil.”
You raise an eyebrow, plucking a leaf from another bunch labeled Thai Basil for comparison.
“Hmm, I don’t know, Mr. Butler, this one has a little more kick to it.”
“Kick? Baby, Genovese basil is going to give such balance and harmony to the pizza, you’re breaking my heart over here.” he says, his hands gesturing passionately earning a giggle from a few passing patrons.
You love it when he shows conviction like this, and you smile coyly, leaning in. “Fine, Austin you win, Genovese it is.”
“Such a smart choice, baby,” he says, slipping an arm over your shoulder, and he pulls you in pressing a quick kiss to your cheek as you grin feeling the warmth of his affection.
As you move toward the next stall, a small group of teenagers hovers nearby, whispering excitedly. One of them, a girl with a phone clutched tightly to her chest, finally works up the courage to approach.
“Um, excuse me, are you… Austin Butler?”
Austin grins softly, his easy charm kicking in. “Yeah I am, it’s so nice to meet you.” He says, as he glances at you with a quick, apologetic look, but you just smirk, already used to these moments by now.
The girl’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh, we love you! Can we get a picture with you?”
He laughs warmly. “Sure.” He says crouching slightly to match their height and they crowd in quickly snapping a selfie.
Bingo, sensing the excitement, wags his tail furiously, and sits on his haunches nudging Austin with his paws making the girls laugh. Austin scoops him up, quickly cooing at him and the girls watch fondly, clearly endeared by the sight of it.
You observe off to the side as he chats with them a moment longer, asking about their favorite pizza toppings making them all answer excitedly at once. He looks so tall, so handsome, completely at ease with his natural way of charming everyone.
As the teens walk away giggling and scrolling through their phones, you spot a man from the corner of your eye, his camera lens glinting from across the market aimed at Austin.
Paparazzi.
You sigh, but Austin just shrugs, pulling you closer. “Ignore ‘em,” he says pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “They’re just jealous they’re not making pizza with the most beautiful person in town tonight.”
You roll your eyes affectionately. “Who me or you?”
“You, baby.” He says leaning down, placing a soft kiss against your lips. “Definitely you.”
Back at his place that evening the kitchen is a glorious mess, flour dusts the counters after you poured the container to quickly, sliced mozzarella litters the cutting board, and Bingo is contentedly in the corner, gnawing on a chew toy after his dinner.
Austin hums softly as he stirs his “legendary” tomato sauce on the stove, hips swaying a little to his own rhythm as you sneak glances while rolling out the dough biting back a smile.
“Alright, chef Austin,” you tease, brushing flour from your hands. “Show me this legendary sauce that’s supposedly gonna change my life.”
He smirks as he dips a spoon, blowing gently, before he holds it out for you, and his eyes lock with yours, playful but intent as you lean in to taste it.
The rich, tangy flavor lands on your tongue, and you exaggerate a satisfied “Mmmm,” just to watch him beam with pride.
“Told ya,” he says, leaning back against the counter arms crossing over his chest as smug as ever.
You scrunch your nose, tossing a piece of mozzarella at him, but he catches it midair, bringing it into his mouth with a wink.
“You’re on dish duty for that one,” he says, though his voice is all affection, and he slides by you brushing his had along your waist.
Together, you assemble the ingredients: your carefully rolled-out dough, his rich, savory sauce, spread with care, a generous scattering of creamy mozzarella, and a final sprinkle of fresh basil, vibrant and fragrant.
He leans in, stealing a quick kiss against your lips. “We make an amazing team, don’t we? This pizza’s a masterpiece already,” he says, his tone full of admiration staring at what you’ve created together.
Your eyes linger on him as you slowly beam with pride. “Yeah Austin, we do.” You agree, your voice soft but certain and you steal a kiss from him in return.
He carries the pizza on a metal tray to the outdoor brick oven in the backyard, the section covered with lattices over a wooden table decorated with fresh flowers.
As the pizza slowly bakes filling the air with the intoxicating smell of crisping crust and melting cheese, Austin takes the moment to set the table.
He places two plates and wine glasses, before lighting a set of candles that cast everything on the table in a warm golden glow.
You watch as he carefully moves the finished pizza from the brick oven to slide in front of you on the serving plate.
The crust is golden and airy, the mozzarella melting between bright basil leaves across the surface.
As you sit together, he pours red wine into the glasses, filling them perfectly with an exaggerated flourish before picking one up.
“To the best pizza nights,” he toasts, clinking his glass against yours.
As you begin to eat, the pizza really is incredible, the soft mozzarella, fragrant basil, and his sauce living up to every bite.
“I ever tell you about that time I found out Taylor Swift grows her own sourdough bread and gifts it?” Austin chimes in finishing another slice. “I bet that’d make such a unique crust,” he says thoughtfully, and it encourages you to pitch in with your own “genius” idea.
“What if…what if I grow basil right here in the backyard? I bet it would smell wonderful, we could plant it just there.” You point, but he’s all smiles, as he looks at you, content with seeing just how excited you are.
Your mood shifts quickly as you think it over.
“Actually, I’d probably kill it in a week,” you admit, taking a drink of wine.
“No way, baby. I’ll keep it alive for us,” he says, his voice filled with confidence, and you swoon at his conviction in your idea.
He takes your hand, thumb grazing your fingers, his voice dropping lower. “You know… these nights, where it’s just us planning, cooking, making something together…they’re my favorite.”
Your heart flips at the look in his eyes. “Even with the flour explosion and the mozzarella war?” you tease softly.
“Especially with those,” he says, leaning in and kissing you slow and sweet, his lips tasting faintly of wine and basil.
Your foreheads press together as you both pull back. “I love you so much,” he whispers, his voice rough with emotion.
“I love you too,” you reply weakly, already drawn into his orbit, and he kisses you again.
His mouth moves with yours in perfect harmony, your tongues sliding together smoothly, every stroke making you crave more of each other as his hands roam over the fabric of your dress.
You kiss until he takes you up on to the table pushing the dishes aside, your legs parting as he grips your thighs, kissing you even deeper.
“I’m so crazy about you,” he whispers his voice rough with need as his lips trail down your neck, and his fingers gently slide into your hair tilting your head back, exposing you for even more of his reverent kisses.
You're already aching with want as he lays you flat on the table, his focus entirely on you, his hands trailing down your body lowering between your legs.
“Austin” you pant, head lifting up as you feel his hands bunch your dress up your thighs, and his thumbs slip under the bands at your hips pulling your panties off.
His eyes glance up to meet yours as his lips trail kisses lower and lower down to your center, his mouth devoted as his tongue lashes at your clit until you’re writhing in pleasure.
He places soft kisses, and teasing licks as he whispers, “You taste just like dessert, baby,” his hands sliding up to grasp your hips, and his tongue swirls in slow drawn out in circles as he breathes against you, “So sweet and soft for me.” He praises, his words vibrating against your slick skin.
You’re already shaking, not sure how long you’ll last as his mouth lavishes you with unrelenting attention, each kiss and flick of his tongue sending your body soaring.
Your head tilts back as the pleasure climbs higher, looking up at the starry sky through the lattice as your hips twitch involuntarily, your chest heaving as he edges you closer to ecstasy.
His thumb finds your clit, stroking quickly with firm pressure, coaxing moans from your lips as you feel yourself start to orgasm.
You’re gasping as your hips grind helplessly to his mouth the sensation intensifying your pleasure, and he laps it up eagerly, humming against you as his hands squeeze your thighs.
He spreads your legs wider, your body still rolling through an orgasm as you watch him undoing his jeans, knowing he’s going to take you right there on the dinner table making your heart beat pound in anticipation.
You whimper, watching his hard cock slide out heavy in his grasp, and he nudges forward gently, your slickness, coating the tip as your walls flutter involuntarily.
“You’re so perfect like this,” he praises, his voice heavy with desire as he takes your hands, interlacing your fingers, and he presses them down onto the wood of the dinner table, anchoring you beneath him.
His eyes are dark with focus as he watches his cock pushing inside of you, a satisfied groan falling from his lips as you moan helplessly feeling how far he’s sliding in as your legs part instinctively.
He’s already panting on the first thrust, his eyes fluttering shut as he savors the moment. “You feel so perfect on me baby,” he says, hushed and reverent.
He sets a rhythm feeling his cock gliding in and out of you, his eyes opening pupils wide, taking in every detail of you beneath him. “You’re so beautiful.” he breathes, his voice rough and incoherent as he picks up the pace, the table creaking under the force of him.
You’re already lost in him, moaning helplessly urging him on as your body responds to every well placed thrust.
“Yeah?” He pants seeing your face soften with pleasure “Feels that good in you?” He whispers, and you nod breathless.
“Feels that good on me too.” He pants, releasing your hands and gripping your thighs around his waist, holding you steady as you take each firm thrusts until you surrender completely.
You’re listless as you feel his cock hitting that perfect spot inside of you over and over again as your walls throb uncontrollably.
“Austin…… right there, please… it’s perfect,” you praise, your voice desperate and raw.
His brows knit together, his cock twitching as he feels how close you are to falling apart.
“You’re right there, baby,” he gasps, bringing his fingers to slide over your slick clit in tight practiced circles, and your hips arch up as a moan tears from your throat.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urges, his voice low and rough with desire, his blue eyes searing as he watches you lose control as his words push you over the edge.
Your abs clench tight as you come, your orgasm surging through, and he falters feeling your walls fluttering on his cock.
“Baby…you came so pretty for me.” he gasps, moving, harder, faster, both of you moaning as the slickness lets him drive deeper as his cock twitches hard inside of you.
He comes almost instantly a warmth filling you up as he grunts uncontrollably and his release overtakes him.
His breathing is harsh, his mind in a haze of pleasure, trying focus on you as his body pulls tight, his hands gripping your thighs to lay in the final, shuddering thrusts.
His head tips back as he braces his hands on your knees gasping as he pulls out slowly, and you lay on the table softly grinning at him, utterly spent, glowing under the starlight filtering through the lattice.
“What is it?” he says breathlessly, his blue eyes gleaming with a mix of exhaustion and adoration seeing the way you’re gazing at him.
“I want to be the dessert every time we do this” you breathe, your voice soft and certain, your eyes lidded heavily with pleasure.
Austin laughs the warm sound lighting up his face, and he carefully pulls you up to his chest, keeping you in his embrace. “No fair, I want to be the desert sometimes too.” he teases, his voice playful as he nuzzles your cheek.
Bingo lets out a loud bark from inside the house, his paws clawing on the glass window, reminding you he’s there, and Austin chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest.
“I haven’t forgotten about you Bingo!,” Austin yells, and you laugh, your stomach shaking under his hands as he grasps your waist to steady you.
“I love you baby ,” he says, placing a quick, tender kiss on your lips.
“I love you too,” you reply sweetly, looping your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer.
As you kiss under the lattice, shadows of moonlight dance across your skin, the glow of candlelight casting a warm halo around you.
After the market’s finds and a dinner made with love, it’s just you and Austin, wrapped in a perfect, messy, romantic evening that feels like something out of a dream.
It is so sweet, so ronmantic, so fluffy, so smutty, and gets me excited in so many good ways and warms my heart so much. All that praise and professions of love from Austin are so delicious and so is that sexy, skilled mouth of his, and the rest. It melts my heart so much. I am ready to be Austin Butler's dessert for every meal and everyone knows that I am also very ready to eat his dessert as well. 😋💯❤️🥰❤️💦🥵
Summary After landing several movies and brand deals, Austin purchases a new home to celebrate his success, making full use of the amenities with you.
❤️🔥Passionate Smut ❤️🔥 Austin playful • Austin excited • established relationship • domestic fluff • couples dynamics •competitive couple •man handling/strength kink • moving in to a new place• first time in a new home • ice plunge challenge •cock warming • praise kink• temperature play• sensory contrast • body worship• sensual overstimulation • dirty talk • sauna sex • simultaneous climax• creampie •exhibition undertones •skinny dipping • sweet talk
📝Co-writer @purejasmine ✨ inspo via DMs comments
Housewarming
Austin has always been modest, almost minimal in his way of living. He wears the same comfort clothing, frequents the same quiet restaurants, and keeps his life as curated and meticulous as his acting.
Everything about him feels like a practice in quiet perfection.
So when he tells you he’s bought a new home, you’re stunned. When you find out it used to belong to Brad Pitt, one of his favorite actors, a man he shared the screen with in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood…the surprise turns into awe.
It feels almost too fitting, as if the universe itself had written it for him.
With money coming in from his new film Caught Stealing, residuals stacking from The Bikeriders, Dune: Part Two, MOTA and Elvis, along with his brand partnerships for Breitling and YSL, Austin’s net worth has skyrocketed from $4 million to $12 million.
You can’t stop thinking about how proud you are of him… the quiet, focused man who’s worked so hard, now standing in a home that once belonged to one of his heroes.
Once everything is moved in and set up to Austin’s standards, the two of you tour the place, observing the view, testing the lights, running your hands over the sleek details. The house feels alive with its stylish design and history, but also brand new because it belongs to you and him now.
Your first day alone together, Austin insists you try the ice plunge with him. He’s playful and coy, enticing you into your bikini and luring you toward the plunge pool with a mischievous grin.
“C’mon, baby… first day in the new house, first plunge together,” he coaxes, leaning down to kiss you quick and sweet before pulling you with him. You try to protest, half laughing, but he’s already wrapping an arm around your waist, dragging you toward the plunge pool.
“Austin! Wait it’s freezing, I’m not ready!” you squeal trying to back out.
“That’s the point,” he says, voice teasing, his strong arm barely noticing your resistance as he hauls you closer. You push his chest, but he just laughs, the low sound vibrating against your palms.
At the edge, he leans in close, his lips brushing over your ear. “On three?”
You nod, but the second you whisper “two,” he tightens his grip and pulls you in with him.
The water bites immediately, shocking your skin as you gasp feeling the icy chill. You claw at his shoulders, teeth chattering, body trembling, but he just laughs through his own shivers, blue eyes locked on yours.
“You look like a little popsicle,” he teases, his lips curving in that smug smile even as his own jaw clenches against the cold.
“You dragged me in!” you sputter, hand pushing at his chest, but you’re hanging on to him for dear life.
“Uh-huh, and you’re still here… haven’t climbed out yet.” His grin widens, daring you.
Your pride won’t let you give in first so you glare back, breaths in clouds, both of you locked in a silent, ridiculous battle of who can last longest.
You’re trembling, he’s shaking, but neither of you budge, grins breaking through between the sharp stabs of cold.
Eventually, you break, shrieking as you scramble out of the water, running straight for the sauna. Austin is laughing as he chases after you, both of you locked in the warmth of the cedar-scented haven as the door clicks shut.
The heat envelops you immediately, but you’re still shivering, your teeth chattering as you wrap your arms around yourself. “I can’t warm up Austin,” you say, half-pleading.
His face softens when he sees you shivering, and he wraps his arms around you, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so proud of you for doing that,” he whispers, his voice rough with sincerity. “I love you so much.”
His cold lips claim yours, the kiss starting tender before deepening, harder, faster, as if he’s trying to warm the chill right out of you. The heat builds in your mouths, tongues sliding, lips brushing, every breath stolen from you by his urgency.
His hands lower to your swimsuit with sudden desperation, stripping you bare. “Take this off,” he pants against your lips. “These are keeping us cold.”
He shoves his own trunks down, and you unclasp your bikini top, the soaked fabric falling to the floor. His palms cup your breasts, thumbs circling, and squeezing your nipples already stiff and aching, and his mouth never leaves yours, kissing with an almost frantic rhythm, every press of his tongue making you give more to him.
His hand slides lower between your legs, his fingers icy as they find your clit, the shock of cold making you gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his kiss.
He presses his cock between your thighs, soft at first, searching for warmth with friction. The sensation is strange, his cool length surrounded by your heat, but as he grinds harder, each stroke drags along your slick skin, the contrast making you shiver all over again, this time, not from the cold.
His kisses grow messier, his cock thickening slowly but surely between your legs, until you feel him swell to his hardest. Hot from your slickness he grinds against you, every thrust dragging along your clit until you’re moaning into his mouth.
The more he kisses you, the more the cold fades, replaced by the heat of your bodies aching for each other, desperate to warm, desperate to consume.
He lifts you against the sauna wall, his hand sliding lower, guiding himself against your entrance, pressing the head in just enough for you to feel the stretch as your legs instinctively wrap around him.
“Hold onto me, baby,” he rasps, and you clutch his shoulders, his blue eyes locking onto yours, sharp and intense. “Yeah… just like that, let me have you.”
With a sharp thrust, he pushes in, the force making your back press the wall. The shock rips a sound from your throat, your legs tightening around his waist as his hands grip under your thighs, keeping you pinned as he drives in deeper.
The steam inside the sauna clings to your slick skin, your bodies sliding together as he thrusts into you.
“Austin,” you breathe, your voice breaking against his mouth.
“Take me, baby,” he whispers, his lips grazing yours. “Need to feel you take all of me.”
His pace grows faster, rougher, his hips thrusting between yours until your moans fill the steamy sauna. His hair clings to his forehead, his face flushed pink, sweat dripping down his muscles as his hands grip your thighs tighter, his chest pressing hard against yours with every deep thrust.
You whimper, overwhelmed, your head falling back and he takes your jaw, guiding your eyes back to him. “Right here baby,” he pants, his blue eyes darkening. “Stay with me.”
The intimacy becomes too hot, too wet, too much, each stroke leaving you trembling, your body coiling tighter around him. He grinds deeper, his pelvis pressing into your clit with every thrust, pulling desperate moans from your lips.
“Let me feel you baby…” he breaths, his voice breaking as his thrusts quicken. “Want to feel you come for me.”
Your whole body reacts, your walls throbbing, the heat and intensity finally tipping you over, your orgasm tears through you in waves as you gasp his name against his mouth.
He doesn’t stop, his hips still driving into you until he stiffens, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spills into you with a shuddering groan.
Both of you rest against the wall, panting heavily, bodies pressed together, your lips brushing in messy, lingering kisses.
“It’s too hot,” Austin finally mutters, carefully pulling out of you. He pushes open the sauna door, the fresh air a shock against your overheated skin, and you both stumble out, laughing breathlessly.
He doesn’t let go of your hand pulling you with him, aiming toward the pool, and the two of you jump in together, the cold water crashing over your bodies.
You come up gasping, clinging to him as he holds you, his laugh vibrating against your chest.
The water laps at you both, cooling you instantly, and Austin keeps you at his chest, holding you steady as your breathing slows.
“You okay?” he checks, brushing the wet hair from your face.
You nod, smiling faintly. “Much Better.”
“You know what’s crazy?” he says, his voice low but playful. “That was our first sauna session… in our house.”
You giggle, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “And our first skinny dip in our pool.”you grin.
He smiles, kissing the tip of your nose.
“Guess we’re setting the standard pretty high for housewarming traditions.”
“Better than unpacking boxes,” you tease, tightening your arms around his neck.
His smile softens, his eyes searching yours and slowly you lean in and kiss him, smiling against his mouth. “So, what’s next? Breaking in the kitchen… or the bedroom?”
He grins, pulling you even closer. “Both….definitely both.”
The morning sun spills through the kitchen window, casting a golden glow across the room where Austin sits at the counter shirtless, his broad shoulders hunched slightly over his journal.
The soft scratch of his pen against the paper fills the quiet space, a rhythmic counterpoint to the distant chirping of birds outside.
His skin is a warm, tan canvas, dappled with freckles, moles, and beauty marks, each one a tiny constellation telling its own story.
You pause in the archway, mesmerized by the sight of him, so unguarded, so beautifully himself.
Crossing the kitchen, your bare feet are silent on the hardwood, and a smile tugs at your lips as you approach.
Your fingers reach to touch him, to map the familiar terrain of his body, and without a word, you slide your arms around his waist, palms splaying across the firm planes of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch.
You press a soft kiss to a freckle on his shoulder, then another to a mole near the curve of his spine. “You’re too pretty, you know that?” you confess, your voice low and teasing, your lips brushing against a tiny speck near his shoulder blade.
Austin chuckles, the sound vibrating through your hands. “My favorite distraction,” he teases, though he doesn’t stop writing… not yet.
You grin, undeterred, and kiss another mole nestled near the base of his neck, your fingertips tracing lazy circles across his chest. “They’re like a map,” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “I could get lost in these forever.”
That catches his attention and he slowly sets the pen down, his grin playful as he stands, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, revealing even more freckles scattered across his torso.
“You’re already lost in me?” he teases, his eyes glinting with affection, and he takes your hand, leading you to the couch where the windows are thrown open to let in the early morning breeze.
Austin stretches out on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lightly on your hip as you lie across him, your head on his chest.
“I was journaling a little while you were sleeping” he says, his voice low and soothing against your cheek. “Trying to put into words how this season of my life feels… how every choice I make ends up shaping me in ways I don’t see ‘til later…”
You hum, listening, but your attention is drawn elsewhere, your fingers trailing over the freckles scattered across his torso.
“You listening to me?” he teases.
“Of course I’m listening,” you say, looking up with a sly smile, and you press a soft kiss to a freckle on his cheek, then one to his earlobe, your lips brushing the sensitive skin there before trailing down the column of his neck.
Each kiss is filled with intention, a quiet worship of the marks that make him so unique. You move to his chest, lips finding a mole near his nipple, then another on his sternum as your fingers trace a cluster along his ribcage, your touch featherlight.
“Where’s your favorite?” he asks, his voice teasing but curious, his eyes catching yours as you realize he’s stopped speaking to indulge your obsession.
You smile, pressing a kiss to a single mole just near his navel. “Maybe this one,” you whisper softly. “No wait this one’s my favorite.” You move lower, kissing another tiny mark on his abs, your lips curving into a smile against his skin.
“Uh-huh, keep going,” he says playfully, and your fingers graze the waistband of his sweats pulling them down and letting his large cock slide out, hard and heavy.
You ignore it intentionally, your kisses more insistent as you press your lips to a freckle on the front of his thigh, then another on his pelvic line, dangerously close to where he wants you, your breath warm against his skin.
Austin’s fingers finds your jaw, his hand guiding your face as he groans, low and desperate, craving what you’re denying him, until finally you take him into your mouth.
His tip is swollen and plump, the veins along his shaft engorged as your movements stay slow and reverent, as if you could pour every ounce of your love into this single act.
His groans deepen, his cock throbbing against your tongue, and your lips glide over him with wet, messy, sounds that fill the quiet room. The taste of him is warm and intoxicating, each suck pulling another sharp exhale from his chest.
His breaths rise and fall quickly, the freckles shifting across his skin as his muscles tighten. His eyes, heavy with need, never leave yours, his jaw clenching as he fights not to give in.
His thighs flex beneath your hands, his hips twitching at the slightest touch of your mouth, showing exactly how close he is… and just when you think he might lose himself, he pants softly, begging you to look up. “Slow down, baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with want.
You release him with a wet pop, his body jolting in response, and he guides you up, his hands steady but firm on your arms, bringing you over him until you’re lying on top, your chest pressed against his.
He kisses you deeply, his lips claiming yours as he rolls you beneath him, pinning you to the couch. The world narrows to the heat of his skin, the weight of his body, and the way his freckles stand out in the morning light.
“Need you so much baby,” he confesses against your mouth, his voice breaking with urgency. “Been wanting you all morning.”
His fingers find the hem of your pajama shorts, sliding them down with a slow pull until your lower half is exposed beneath him. His touch dips between your thighs, finding you already slick, and his fingers sink into you, slowly, savoring the way your body clenches around them.
Your breath hitches sharply as he curls them just right, pressing into that spot that makes your hips jolt up against his hand. His thumb drags over your clit in lazy circles, coaxing soft gasps from your lips as the wet sounds of his touch grow louder in the quiet living room.
“Aus… yes, right there,” you whimper, your voice breaking as your hands cling to his shoulders.
“I know baby,” he promises, his voice low and certain, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction. He works you open, pumping his fingers deeper, faster, until your thighs tremble against his wrist.
Each curl has your breath hitching, your chest arching helplessly into his, until the slickness coats his fingers as he thrusts them into you with precision, and just as you’re about to come, he pulls his hand away, his eyes gleaming at the desperate sound that escapes you.
“Not yet, baby,” he soothes, his lips brushing yours, and he guides himself between your thighs, the swollen head of his cock pressing against your slick entrance, and with a deep groan, he pushes in, stretching you until your body takes him completely.
He thrusts into you gently at first, his movements slow and measured, but soon his rhythm deepens, steady and intimate. One hand lowers to your hip while the other cradles your face and he kisses you, his breath mingling with yours.
Each thrust is a promise, each touch a vow, as he makes love to you with a tenderness that feels like it could stop time. He pulls back, eyes falling shut, lost in the feel of you as his cheek hovers close to yours, freckles scattered across his skin, and you can’t resist kissing them, his tiny marks grounding you in the intimacy of every movement.
“Baby…” he groans, his voice ragged, and desperate against your ear. “I want you to come with me,” he whispers, and you nod, your voice breaking as his hips jerk faster, harder, making your walls flutter tightly around him.
His pace becomes relentless, frantic, every thrust a surrender as your nails dig into his shoulders holding tightly, as if you could anchor yourself against the force of him.
His groans break apart as your moans join his, your hands sliding down to the dimples in his back, pulling him deep and holding him there.
He stills, buried inside of you, spilling as your release crashes over you both, your bodies reaching the peak of pleasure together, every pulse and contraction in unison.
You lie there, tangled together, Austin’s weight a comforting anchor as his head tucks into the crook of your neck. Your fingers trace the familiar map of his freckles, lingering on a cluster near his shoulder as if you could memorize each one by touch.
“You’re a work of art,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, circling a mole near his spine. “Every single part of you is perfect.”
He hums, the sound low and sated, before lifting his head to look at you, his blue eyes steady and filled with devotion. “No, baby… you’re the masterpiece,” he says softly, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “The way you see me… the way you love me… the way you make me feel…” he confesses, the honesty of his words making your heart swell with the quiet joy of just being his.
The world outside falls away. For now, it’s just you and him, your fingers caressing his body of constellations, your lips kissing each one with love.
Mmmmm, I have always found Austin's gorgeous beauty marks to be such a sexual trigger and this fic is fire! The teasing of him with some oral pleasing, the superb fingering, the subtle edging, the sweetness, the praise, the exquisite intercourse to another orgasm after an orgasm, the simultaneous orgasms, the closeness, the sweetness, the romance, the love. Mmmmmm, such a tasty delight! 💯❤️🥵
Summary Back home after an international tour for his latest movie, Austin wants to keep his tan, basking with you for hours under the warm California sun.
❤️🔥Passionate Smut ❤️🔥 Austin returns home • Austin confident & teasing • body worship • body praising • sexual tension • edging playful to passionate •slow grinding •clit play •sex outdoors •pool side sex •size kink • praise kink • multiple orgasms • cream pies • aftercare
Austin skin is always perfectly golden but that Puerto Rican ocean made him glow.
Now, back in Los Angeles, he’s doing everything to hold on to it. The press tour through Paris, London, and New York had stolen some of his bronze, but home in his backyard by the pool, time seems to stretch on endlessly.
The water sparkles a deep, temping sapphire blue, the trees whispering in the breeze, the heat soft under the afternoon sun.
Austin is stretched out on a lounge chair in nothing but black swim trunks. His narrow waist tapering to his broad chest, glinting faintly in the sunlight.
His sunglasses are perched in his sandy-brown hair, and his arms bulging with biceps from months of training, are folded casually behind his head.
His eyes are closed, his breathing slow, his whole body relaxed.
You’re lying beside him, propped in your own lounger, bikini straps down your shoulders to tan as you sip from a cold berry smoothie. The condensation slicks your fingers, but you barely notice because you can’t stop staring at him.
The way the sun darkens his tan, the way his abs tighten with each breath, the casual sprawl of his gorgeous body….Austin knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
You lower your sunglasses just enough to let your gaze linger, and his eyes are closed but his lips curve into a faint knowing smile.
“Enjoying the view?” He says, his voice lazy and teasing.
“It’s not so bad,” you say, letting your tone dip with the same kind of tease he’s giving you.
Finally his lashes lift, blue eyes gleaming as they pin you where you sit. He slowly pushes himself up muscles flexing, tanned golden in the light.
“Not so bad?” he repeats, scoffing with mock offense, taking his sunglasses off. He stands, tall and fluid, his shadow falling across your lounger. “That’s all I get after perfecting this tan for hours?”
You can see all of him, his broad chest rising and falling with steady breaths, the cut of his abs, hard planes catching the light.
The thick curve of his biceps have veins just visible beneath his sun kissed skin, and his waist narrows down into those black swim trunks, every line of him hard, carved, golden, impossible to look away from.
You tilt your head back, meeting his eyes, trying not to smile as he leans closer, the air between you tightening with the scent of tanning oil and something purely him.
“You look… better than not so bad,” you admit, your voice softer now, slipping past the wall you tried to hold as you pull off your shades.
He smiles wider at that, dipping lower until his face is inches from yours, his hands sliding up your thighs, the press of his palms warm against your skin as his body blocks out the sun.
“I thought so…” he whispers, his voice low, teasing, and his lips press to yours, soft at first, then deeper, building slowly with desire.
The faint swing of his chain brushes your chest, the cool metal dragging across your heated skin as he lowers his lips down your jaw, your throat, each kiss filled with intention.
You want him…you want all of him, the weight of his body on yours, his chain against you, and as his mouth moves higher you’re tilting your head back, inviting him in without even realizing it.
He climbs onto the lounger, lowering over you, the heat radiating from his body. He feels solid, heavy, his muscles pressing you down, every inch of him burning against your skin.
Your legs spread willingly to accommodate him, and as his hands slide along your thighs, your fingertips grasp his shoulders pulling him even closer making him grin against your mouth.
His kiss becomes heated fast, his plush lips devouring yours until your hips roll beneath him clutching at his shoulders. He shifts his hips, the blunt tip of his cock nudging against you through the thin barrier of fabric, and you moan into his mouth.
“Austin” you gasp, your voice trembling with need as he grinds against you, slow at first, then heavier, powerful, making you wetter by the second.
The pressure builds until you’re panting in his mouth, every breath a shaky whimper as your hips tilt up to meet him and the little sounds you make spur him on.
“God, you sound so good,” he whispers against your lips, his voice low and rough as his thrusts become firmer, rutting into you with purpose as you writhe beneath him, messy, desperate, unable to stay still because it feels too good.
His fingers find your bikini ties, pulling them loose one by one. He doesn’t stop kissing you, his broad shoulders flexing as he strips you down. You cradle the back of his head, holding him to you, tongues tangling as you kiss him until your breath is nothing but his.
His shorts are shoved off carelessly, and suddenly he’s naked under the sun, golden and perfect.
“Aus,” you whisper, voice breaking as his kisses lower down your neck. “Right now?” you gasp, the thought half-plea. “Outside?”
“Right now.” He grins, his hand sliding between your thighs, “Outside,” he says stroking your clit until you’re arching, pressing your slick heat against his cock
The blunt head pushes into you slow and steady, easing his cock in deeper until he’s fully inside, his hips grinding heavily, filling you completely as you moan at the feel of him.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers, his voice hushed and reverent as he thrusts gently inside you. “So good for me… always so good.”
His rhythm is slow, adoring, each thrust pressing deeper, and you gasp, clutching at his shoulders, your body shivering as his hips grind down heavy and strong, pinning you to the lounger.
The sun beats down, his golden skin gleaming, every movement passionate, reverent, making you forget everything except the way he feels inside of you.
Your gasps turn into broken cries as the pleasure builds, his lips claiming yours again and again, kissing you through every wave of pleasure.
His rhythm stays steady, hips rocking deep, his body grinding into yours until the pressure peaks, until he has you trembling uncontrollably.
“A–Aus,” you cry out, your voice shaky, the sensation taking over unstoppable, your hips twitching beneath him, and you whimper helplessly into his mouth, clinging to his shoulders.
“Come for me baby” He says, knowing he has you right there, how to move, how to hold you, taking you higher as every thrust narrows to one sharp point of release, your clit throbbing as you break.
You come sharp and hard, your walls fluttering tightly around him, your voice trembling against his lips.
He groans thickly, cock twitching inside of you as he buries himself deep, his hips thrusting as he loses control, spilling into you while you moan in pleasure beneath him.
His kisses turn messy, breathless, both of you moaning through it. His lips taste of sunlight and salt, his breath warm as he whispers against your mouth, “So good…so fucking good, baby.”
Everything stills as a rush of relief floods through you, and you can’t move, you don’t even want to move until he kisses you again slow and deep, both of you smiling.
“Rinse off with me,” he says, his blue eyes studying your face until you nod.
You’re in a dreamy haze as he helps pull you from the lounger, playful now, as you walk toward the outdoor shower with a sway in your hips, knowing his eyes are on you.
When you glance back, he’s completely naked, cock swaying heavy with each stride, hardening again just from watching you.
He can’t help himself. Not when you’re like this.
Water sprays from the shower as you twist the handle and before you can even adjust it, he’s on you, pressing you against the wet tile, his mouth rough and hungry on yours, the water running down over his flexing muscles.
He lifts your leg high, his hand sliding between your thighs, fingers finding your clit. He strokes in firm circles, you’re clit already so sensitive your back arches against the wall, head tilting as shivers roll roll down your spine. Your whole body seizes from pleasure, and as he slowly pushes inside you again, the combination is so overwhelming your vision blurs.
“A—Aus…” you moan, your second orgasm surging through you almost instantly. He kisses you hard, thrusting deep, his body slamming against yours with every flex of his powerful muscles. His fingers don’t let up, circling your clit as he pounds into you, making your body shake uncontrollably, making your walls throb tight around him.
He groans, pulling back just enough to glance down between you. The sight makes his jaw clench seeing himself slide inside you, your body a perfect fit as you take him in again and again.
The water pounds over both of you as he thrusts harder, lips crashing back to yours, drowning your cries with his own.
“Baby, I’m—” His words choke off in a moan as he pushes in deep, his cock twitching inside of you. The hot pulse of him spills into you in thick waves, your walls fluttering around him as you both ride it out, locked together against the shower wall.
He keeps kissing you through it, desperate, relentless, his lips soft and full, his breaths ragged against yours. The water runs over his flexing shoulders, cascading down your bodies and he grinds into you with the last slow, shuddering thrusts, holding you tightly like he can’t let go.
When he finally softens, he looks at you, eyes half-lidded, a smile tugging at his lips. “I love you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.
You gently cup his jaw, your own lips forming into a smile. “I love you too,” you breathe, the words slipping out as natural as air.
He kisses you again, softer this time, dazed, and utterly spent, both of you finally rinsing off together under the steady rush of water.
Mmmmmm, this is so hot! 🥵💦 SPF and massive privacy hedges and I wouldn't be able to resist this intense, sexy passion from Austin. He is such a a turn-on and that safe risque outdoors sexy time with Austin Butler really gets me going, mind and body! 💯
I love when Austin looks sweet and adorable like this and some of the looks in these gifs have me going wild. Those eyes, those facial expressions, that gum.chewing, that smirk... 😍 Mmmmmmmmm. 💦
Summary Austin looks so spectacular in his leather suit at the premiere of his new film, that you don’t even want him to take it off when you’re finally alone.
🔗MasterList
❤️🔥Passionate Smut❤️🔥 Austin in leather • leather kink • fawning • sweet talk• dirty talk •praise kink • the leather stays on • thigh riding • he talks you through it • clit play • edging • teasing •size kink •hand job while in leather pants • p in v on a lounger • multiple orgasms • cream pie •aftercare
📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 🫦 Plot consultant @Butdaddyilovehim99 ✨Inspo via reblogs, DMs….Austin in Full Leather 🥵
Leather & Lace
The premiere is a spectacle, gritty and glamorous, exactly the kind of chaos that echoes through New York City. The red carpet is a fever dream of flashing cameras, shouting fans, and interview questions.
Austin is the star of the night, gliding through it all with practiced ease. His leather-on-leather suit fits him like a second skin. Black, sleek, no shirt, just the sharp cut of the tailoring to his muscular frame. His tan skin glows under the lights, hair swept back in that effortless way that makes the crowd lose their minds.
He wears shades to shield his eyes, a trick he picked up from a famous musician to mask the anxiety when he feels the pressure rising in his chest.
He is the lead of the film, untouchable, charismatic, but you can see the signs: jet lag, endless interviews, the same questions asked over and over again on a loop until his answers start to blur.
Zoe his costar struts beside him, all cool confidence. Bad Bunny the protagonist flashes his grin, owning the carpet with every step. Even Tonic, the film’s unofficial mascot cat, steals the show, rolling up in a remote-controlled car, decked out in a tiny leather jacket.
After the photo call Austin makes sure to give an interview to every entertainment journalist, his voice steady, his eyes distant.
You wait out of sight, Austin’s private life kept carefully separate, your fitted black lace dress a quiet contrast to the glittering spectacle surrounding you.
You’re content watching him shine, the way he dazzles the crowd, the way he’s so professional at every event, always knowing he’s counting down the hours until he can unwind.
After the interviews Austin pauses to sign a few autographs, his smile warm as a fan holds out a blue rose. A new fascination, it seems, these roses being offered to him. It started at Cannes and now at every other event he is offered one, always accepting graciously.
Hours later in the suite, the doors clicks shut, sealing out the publicists, the wardrobe team, the noise.
The sounds of the city can’t reach the penthouse, and in this pocket of quiet, its just you and Austin.
He stands in the center of the room, still in his leather suit, the jacket revealing just enough to tease the line of his chest.
He looks like a fever dream, his movements smooth, his posture relaxed, but you can see the exhaustion in his blue eyes.
“Baby,” he calls, voice pitching up, a thread of panic lacing through as he fumbles with a button, his fingers slipping more than they should. “I’m, uh… I got a problem.”
You cross the room in a heartbeat, concern spiking. “What’s wrong?”
He sighs, loosening his leather suit, and then you see it, his skin is glistening, slick with sweat.
The low light catches the sheen on his abs, each ridge defined, shimmering, and your, thighs pressing together instinctively.
“Austin…” you gasp, your voice soft, barely a whisper.
“I know,” he says, glancing down at himself, a mix of embarrassment and frustration. “I’m soaked under this thing. Can you grab some towels?”
“Aus…” You try again, but your voice is breathy, weak, thoughts scattering like confetti.
He looks so good…too good, his skin slick and chest heaving slightly from the heat of it all. “Austin…just sit….I’ll help you.” You finally manage.
He obeys, sinking onto the plush lounger with a heavy sigh, his head tipping back, eyes half-closed.
You bolt to the bathroom, snatching a stack of folded towels, and when you return, he’s sprawled out, legs spread, the leather inviting in all the right places.
The sight hits you like a punch, he’s gorgeous, unguarded, and your pulse races, unable to stop yourself.
“Wait I need to capture this,” you say, setting the towels down and grabbing your phone.
He cracks a smile, a slow grin spreading across his face seeing how flustered you are.
“You want a picture of this mess?” he teases, his voice low, but he leans back further, letting his legs fall open just a bit more, playing coy knowing exactly what you want.
You snap a few photos, the leather gleaming, his chest glistening. He looks like a rock star, a god, a fantasy you can’t believe is real.
He beckons you closer with a smirk. “C’mere,” he says, voice softer, now heavy with intent.
Your phone trembles in your hand as you set it down. You cross the room, and his hands find yours first, pulling you right down to straddle his thigh.
“Austin,” you breathe, your hands finding his chest, fingers brushing the damp heat of his skin.
He pulls you in, his lips crashing onto yours, desperate and searching. His mouth is warm and needy as he groans softly, hands settling on your hips, pulling you closer.
“Missed you all night,” he whispers against your lips, voice rough with want.
“I… missed… you too,” you reply, words tumbling out between kisses, fingers digging into the leather of his jacket, the scent of it mixed with his sweat driving you insane.
You can feel his hand sliding to your lower back, pressing you down until your clit rubs his thigh. The leather of his pants is slick against your lace panties, making your eyes flutter shut as a soft moan escapes.
“Feels good doesn’t it baby?” he whispers, his voice filled with want, and his fingers slip between your legs tugging your lace panties aside.
The leather is slick and warm against your bare clit sending a jolt of pleasure through you, and he guides your hips, making you to ride his thigh, the smooth surface amplifying every sensation.
“Austin, yes” you moan, eyes closed, lost in the rush of pleasure, and his grip tightens on your hips, a quiet groan betraying his own need.
His mouth finds yours again, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours as he moves your hips, making you glide along his thigh through your slickness.
Your soft, broken whimpers spill out, your body trembling as the overstimulation takes hold.
“Keep going for me,” he whispers, lips kissing along your jaw, and trailing down to your neck.
Your hips rock back and forth, his hands guiding you, the sensation so intense your thighs clench tighter, soft little breaths escaping as your vision blurs.
He hums, low and filthy, teeth grazing your collarbone. “You like me like this, all messy for you?” He says, his hand sliding up your side, thumb brushing over your nipple, teasing you slowly. “You’re making it real hard for me to get out of this suit.”
“Don’t take it off,” you moan quickly, fingers curling into his hair. “Keep it on. Just… just a little longer.”
His eyes darken, a wicked edge to his smile, and he obeys, shifting slightly so you can feel every press of his thigh between your legs.
“You want me to stay like this, all sweaty and stuck, for you?”
“Yes Austin,” you breathe, grinding down harder, the friction of the leather sending sparks through you making you desperate for more.
He kisses you again, his hands on your thighs, pulling you close until there’s no space left between you.
Your moans are soft and weak vision blurring thighs squeezing together as your walls flutter.
“You’re gonna soak this leather,” he whispers, voice raw, lips brushing your ear. “Fuck I want you too.” He confesses.
The room spins, the city outside fading to nothing as you lose yourself to him, hips rocking, soft moans and whimpers spilling out as you come.
You’re panting, shivering, the relief washing over you in waves as he stares, eyes heavy with awe and want.
You begin peeling off his leather jacket to reveal more of his sweat-slicked skin and the warm intoxicating scent of him hits you like a drug.
“I need you,” you whisper, hands trembling as they skim down his chest, slipping lower, finding his fingers already trying to undo his pants.
You gently push his large hands away and look up at him through your lashes as you easily undo the tack button, and his eyes lock on your face as you slowly lower the zipper.
He gasps as your hand slides inside the leather, finding him already hard, hot, his cock slick with sweat pulsing against your palm.
“Austin…” you breathe, your core throbbing as you stroke him, the slickness of his sweat making your hand glide perfectly along his cock.
“Baby…” his voice cracks, raw and desperate, his hips jerking into your touch. “Baby…you’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”
You keep going, savoring his reaction, the way his breath hitches, the way his fingers dig into the lounger, the low, groans spilling from his lips.
His cock pulses harder, slick and heavy in your hand, and you can feel him teetering on the edge, his control fraying with every stroke.
With a shaky groan, he quickly grabs your wrist pulling your hand away and he moves you to lay down across the lounger.
He curses under his breath, fumbling with his leather pants, the tight fabric clinging to him, as he tugs them down just enough to free his cock.
His breaths are heavy, his eyes wild. “I want you so bad,” he rasps, fingers grasping your hips. “You have no idea how much I need you, right now.”
You gasp, arching up to him and with a low groan he thrusts into you deeply, hitting that spot just right.
You cry out, back arching as the sound rises from your chest.
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groans, his cock thrusting into you, each stroke harder than the last.
Your cries break into frantic whimpers, hands clawing at his back. “Austin— please, don’t stop—”
He presses his forehead to yours, panting, his voice rough. “I’m not stopping, baby. Not until you come all over me again. You hear me?”
You nod as he increases his pace, his thrusts making your body shudder with each one until all that’s left is his voice, his weight, his need pounding into you.
Everything becomes hazy your breaths heavy gasps as your walls clench tightly around his cock.
“—Aus—” you whimper, your voice breaking as pleasure crashes through you, waves pulsing from your core. Your body arches, fingers digging into his shoulders, nails leaving crescent shaped marks.
He groans, low and guttural, voice shuddering as he feels your walls gripping him. “Shit—baby, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he pants, every thrust faster, harder, his muscles flexing as he rides it out.
Your moans and whimpers mix with his grunts, your body trembling under the force of him, his hands holding thighs to take more of him as he groans louder, each gasp and shudder betraying the intensity building inside of him.
He makes a shuddering grunt, his thrusts faltering “Ffffuck—Im gonna come,” he rasps.
He groans, every muscle clenching tight, his voice a mix of pleasure and sharp exhales as he comes inside of you filling you with warmth.
He collapses against you, head slumping onto your shoulder, breathing heavily, all the tension draining from his body.
His moves against you as he suddenly starts to laugh, a light, giddy sound he can’t control and you can’t help but giggle too, your bodies slick and warm together.
He exhales, voice soft and satisfied. “Damn… I’ll never get over that feeling.”
“What feeling?” you ask, still catching your breath, fingers tracing through his hair.
“Being so exhausted… that I can only rest after I come in you,” he confesses, eyes closing, completely spent.
You smile proudly. “Don’t rest just yet,” you tease. “We have to shower first.”
His head nuzzles against your shoulder as he groans. “In a minute….I just want to…stay right here with you.” he says, his voice muffled and tired against you, and your fingers trail through his hair as he surrenders to your warmth with a heavy sigh of satisfaction.
I don't even have a leather kink, but damn! Austin all feral and "messy" and talking about it and all that fresh Austin sweat, mmmm, yes, please. Delish indeed. And of course Austin giving me multiple orgasms and wanting to give me more of them. And I love all the things he says. Mmmmm, I need him now!!! 💯😍🥵
UK peeps and near-UK peeps, you can go see Austin Butler, Zoe Kravitz, and Darren Aronofsky in person and see an early screening of Caught Stealing at the UK Gala for Caught Stealing, tickets still on sale. Go have fun!
We’re incredibly excited to be able to offer you tickets to the UK gala screening of "Caught Stealing"
Austin Butler on a beach in Puerto Rico looking wildly delicious. 🥵
Just when you thought that Austin Butler couldn't look any hotter, he goes ahead and does this! How is he allowed to look this perfect for me when he is not with me?! Austin is looking literally perfect right now. 😍
Is this the Hank Thompson body? How much of this body are we going to see at the end of Caught Stealing? IYKYK. Does that mean Austin also had this body for Enemies? Is his body for his next role? Is he keeping his body like this unless he needs to be smaller for a different role? Does Austin know how much we love this version of his body? 🫠
Seriously perfect, perfect, perfect! Perfection. Need to see more! 👀
I’ve read on several occasions that people confuse Austin with Justin Bieber, and I honestly don’t get it 😂 Do you think they look alike enough for people to even say that? Because I just don’t see it at all.
There was a part at certain times where Austin looked like Chord Overstreet and there was a certain part when he looked a lot like Justin Bieber. Some parts, some pictures.
Austin has even mentioned that one time he had a conversation with someone at a party for around 20 minutes and they had thought he was Chord Overstreet that entire time. It was back when Chord was on Glee. They could have easily played fraternal twins at some point. Austin definitely did look very similar to Chord Overstreet some time ago, but not similar enough to cause me any confusion though.
There was definitely also a point in time when he looked very Bieberish. There are some reposts of pics from years back where he super looks like Bieber. I think some in black and white if I recall correctly, with partial shadow on Austin's face, with long hair I think.
Then there is a pic of young Bieber sleeping that looks quite Austinny and many people don't know the difference between the 2 guys well enough and sometimes post that Bieber pic as Austin sleeping, lol. 🤭 They do look very similar in that pic, so I understand the confusion, but I have a PhD in Aus-tronomy, so no confusion for me, since I am in too deep when it comes to Austin.
Sometimes Austin has had a Bill Skarsgard look happening too.
And there is a pic from an airport or somewhere of Austin at some point, maybe in a black leather jacket or something, with sunglasses maybe, I don't recall exactly, but he super looks like Cole Sprouse in that one.
So Austin has definitely looked very similar to certain celebrities throughout the years.
I am a professional , but I would need to rehearse this scene with Austin in my trailer or his. It's imperative to get it just right, you know?! I am committed to my craft (I really am, but this is a special case.).
Can you write an Austin Butler x reader imagine where tired of the public scrutiny due to their age gap , the reader and Austin attempt to go off-grid for six months. no press, no social media, just the two of them in a house in Big Sur. At first, it’s bliss: fireside dinners, hikes, handwritten love letters. But isolation brings up unresolved trauma from the readers past. She spirals, and Austin has to help her through the darkest part of herself.
oooooh okay kinda edited the request for something that suited me a bit more!! i hope you love it nonnie <3
OKAY UH,, smut ?? but like, we have anal this time around too- so if you're not into that jazz then you might wanna skip this one loves.
Every now and then, Uma is reminded that love—real love—is not effortless. It is not passive. It asks of you. It requires presence, patience, and the terrifying courage to be seen. It demands you strip yourself bare, peel back the layers you’ve built to survive, and place your trembling heart in someone else's hands. And you do it with the quiet, aching hope that they won’t flinch. That they won’t scoff at the offering, won’t turn away from the bruised, beaten thing you present—but instead, they’ll accept it. Gently. Reverently. That they’ll cradle it like something precious, and in return, offer you theirs with the same trembling trust.
It sounds beautiful—holy, even—but there’s more to it than that.
Because when you give someone your heart, you’re not just giving them your capacity for love. You’re giving them everything that’s ever shaped it. The shadows that haunt it. The wounds still bleeding beneath your ribs. You’re handing over your daddy issues, your trust issues, the betrayals you’ve filed away but never truly forgot. The heartbreaks that still echo in your chest. The anger you’ve swallowed. The shame. The silence.
You give them your rot alongside your bloom.
And maybe—if they love you right—they’ll take it anyway. Maybe they’ll sip your poison like it’s wine and ease the sting with the sweetness of their mouth on yours. Maybe their hands will trace every scar like scripture, and their warmth will seep into the cold places no one’s ever touched before. A kiss here. A whispered name there. A soft sigh against your skin that makes all the mess feel worth it.
That’s what Uma wants. What she fears. What she’s holding her breath for.
To be known in full—and still, somehow, to be chosen.
As she watches him sitting by the fire, shoulders hunched, jaw tight, Uma feels the heat of their argument still simmering in the room—clashing harshly with the low amber glow that flickers across his profile. The fireplace crackles softly, but all she hears is silence. That hollow, post-fight quiet that settles like ash on the tongue.
Just hours ago, they were all kisses and laughter, sighs pressed against skin, tangled limbs and lazy, wine-slowed afternoons. This cabin had been their sanctuary. Every room still smelled of them—of warmth, of desire, of a love so sweet it made her dizzy. But now, all that tenderness felt like a dream fraying at the edges. The fight, sharp and sudden, had taken a blade to the illusion.
And maybe… maybe that was a little bit her fault.
Uma knew she was young. Knew what it looked like: a wide-eyed girl playing house with a man the world had already crowned golden. Nine years older, famous, carved from experience and charm and late-night wisdom. He loved her. Not just with words, but with actions—with touches that lingered, with protection that made her feel wrapped in velvet, with a love that was so much it often left her aching, overwhelmed, teary-eyed from the sheer weight of being adored like that.
But it wasn’t always easy.
Dating him meant navigating whispers—critics who insisted she wasn’t enough. Too young. Too naïve. Too new. And maybe they were right. Maybe she was still growing. Still figuring out who she was, still learning when to speak, when to stay silent, how to hold space for someone without losing herself in the process.
But wasn’t that the point? That she was still becoming? And wasn’t part of loving her—truly loving her—being willing to witness that evolution without using it against her?
She clenched her jaw, watching the firelight dance along his cheekbones, illuminating the strain there. He hadn’t looked at her since she walked back into the room.
They’d hurt each other tonight. With words flung too fast, with old insecurities unearthed like splinters. But still, beneath it all, Uma could feel the pull—could feel the quiet ache of her heart begging to be offered again.
To be seen. To be chosen. Even in this.
Hell, they were in Big Sur for her. Because everything had started to feel like too much—too loud, too invasive, too cruel. The kind of cruelty that seeps through a screen, hidden behind comment sections and stitched videos. She couldn’t even open her phone without seeing herself dissected under harsh lighting—every gesture, every glance, every slip of her tongue turned into proof of something ugly. Immature. Vapid. Unworthy.
As if she wasn’t a real person. As if she didn’t breathe the same air as them. As if her heart didn’t break the same way theirs did.
She had scrolled past the umpteenth TikTok that day—some stranger narrating her expressions like a wildlife documentary—and something in her just cracked. And maybe he saw it. Maybe he always saw it before she could say it.
So he brought her here. To this house tucked against the cliffs, where the ocean roared like a lullaby and the rest of the world felt far, far away. He gave her an out. An escape. But more than that—he gave her himself.
Austin loved her loudly in these walls. Kissed her in the kitchen with the windows open. Traced “I love you” down the curve of her back like prayer. Held her too tight in the mornings and didn’t let go until she laughed. He wanted her to know—really know—that even when it hurt, even when the world made it unbearable to love in public, what they had was still worth it.
That she was worth it.
And for a while, that had been enough. The quiet. The ocean. The warmth of him. Their little world of shared glances and whispered promises. But tonight... tonight they’d let the weight of it all spill out too fast. They’d fought. And now he sat by the fire, alone, and she stood behind him, heart in her throat, unsure if the silence meant endings—or the calm just before someone finally reaches for the other.
It started with a joke.
Or at least, Uma thought it was a joke.
She’d laughed—halfhearted, wine-blushed, cheeks pink from the firelight. “You must be getting tired of defending me. Your little PR disaster in heels. The girl who makes the headlines and makes you look—what do they say?—unserious.”
She said it with a crooked smile, swirling her glass like the words were nothing. Like they didn’t claw at the underside of her ribs.
Austin didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile. He just looked at her. Slowly. Quietly. That kind of silence that makes your skin feel too tight.
“I really wish you’d stop talking about yourself like that.”
The air shifted. The fire popped behind him, a soft hiss of flame against stone, but all she heard was the sharpness in his voice—low, measured, frayed at the edges.
She arched an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “I’m joking. Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” he said. But he wasn’t. His jaw was tense, thumb tracing the side of his whiskey glass like he needed something to hold onto. “It’s just not funny anymore, Uma. Every time you say shit like that, it sounds like you believe it. Like you're just waiting for me to agree with you.”
She felt the heat creep into her chest—not from the fire, not from the wine. From the words she’d swallowed too many times.
“Maybe I do believe it,” she said, voice tight. “Maybe I see what everyone else sees. That I don’t belong in your world. That I’m the immature little girlfriend who runs her mouth too much, wears the wrong things, says the wrong things, is the wrong thing—while you’re the poised, polished, Oscar-nominated man of the hour.”
Austin’s mouth twitched, but not into a smile. Into something bitter, barely held back. He sat up straighter, like her words had struck bone.
“So now I’m the asshole for loving you?” he asked, cool and measured. “You think I flew us up to this house, gave you space from all that noise, just so you could remind me how little you think of yourself?”
“No,” she snapped, pushing her chair back. The legs scraped the hardwood like a scream. “I think you did it to convince yourself this was still worth it. Because you could have someone else, Austin. You could find a woman who fits your world. A woman on your level. One with flawless skin and publicist-approved statements and no history of panic attacks in dressing rooms.”
He stood then—too fast. His chair tipped slightly before he caught it.
“You really think that’s what I want? Some media-trained mannequin who doesn't challenge me? Who doesn’t feel anything?” His voice was rising now, sharp and hurt. “You think I don’t know what I signed up for with you?”
“I think,” she said, staring him down, “you’re going to get tired of holding me up.”
Austin flinched. Just for a second. And then came the words she wasn’t ready for.
“Then maybe you should be with someone who doesn’t need holding.”
Silence. Wide. Dreadful.
The fire crackled behind him. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t even know if she was angry or just bleeding out beneath her skin.
He looked at her like he wanted to take it back. Like he already hated himself for saying it.
But it was out there now. And some things, once said, just hang in the air like smoke you can’t cough out.
She turned. Walked out of the kitchen, past the glass doors, into the wide, aching quiet of the house. The cold mountain air slid through the cracks, and for the first time since they’d arrived, Big Sur felt like too much space between them.
She watches him from across the room, the fire painting gold across his skin. He’s still in the sweater she’d tugged him into this morning—cable-knit, too soft, too expensive, sleeves shoved up his forearms the way she likes. He hasn’t looked at her since the argument. Not once.
There’s a chill in the air now that the sun’s gone. It creeps through the stone floors of the house, nestles into her bones. But it’s not the cold that makes her shiver.
It’s the distance.
Two hours ago, this room held laughter. He’d been humming some stupid 70s song, barefoot, hair a mess from the way she’d run her fingers through it while he cooked. She remembers how the butter sizzled on the pan, how he bumped his hip into hers just to make her smile. How she’d leaned into his chest and pressed her face there, breathing him in like he was something holy.
And then—just like that—her mind slips.
Not to the fight. But to the morning before the storm.
The bed, once too big for her, now cradled the perfect imprint of them. Of togetherness. His side was always warmer, always deeper somehow, like the mattress had long since learned to hold the weight of him—and now her, too.
Austin was curled around her like instinct, chest pressed to her back, arm heavy across her waist, anchoring her with that quiet, sleep-drunk possessiveness she’d come to crave. His breath stirred the hair at the nape of her neck in slow, even waves. That deep, steady rhythm of a man utterly at peace.
She lay there for a moment, eyes open, suspended in the softness of dawn. Then, slowly, carefully, she shifted—just enough to turn and face him.
God, he was beautiful like this.
His face slack in sleep, mouth parted just slightly, letting out the faintest snore—gentle and almost childlike. Lashes long and dark against his cheekbones, catching the muted gold light that spilled through the curtains. One hand was tucked under the pillow, the other still wrapped around her middle, even in his dreams.
He looked younger like this. The weight of the world nowhere on his shoulders. No red carpets, no cameras, no sharp suits or charming deflections. Just him. Just hers.
And she couldn’t help herself.
With the kind of mischievous reverence only lovers are allowed, she dipped her head and began the slow, serious business of counting his freckles.
First, the ones scattered across his cheeks—tiny, sun-kissed constellations she kissed once… then twice. She smiled against his skin. Whispered numbers into the quiet like a spell.
Then she moved downward, her fingers trailing a warm path across the slope of his shoulder, the curve of his collarbone. She followed the freckles like breadcrumbs—pressing soft kisses to each one, some fleeting and quick, others lingering with open-mouthed affection. Her lips brushed the subtle dip at the center of his chest, the scar near his ribs, the line of muscle that disappeared beneath the rumpled sheets.
She paused where the blanket rested low on his hips. He shifted slightly in his sleep, a soft sigh slipping from his lips, and she swallowed a laugh—giddy and breathless.
Then she kept going.
Down the ridges of his abdomen, along the V of his hips. Her mouth ghosted over the hollow of his navel, then the hard lines of his thighs—strong and relaxed now, but she knew what they could do. She kissed the back of his knee, the inside of his calf, the smooth muscle of his back when he shifted and half-rolled into her touch.
Ten freckles. Fifteen. Twenty-three. Then she forgot what number she was on.
Because the counting didn’t matter anymore. Only the feeling did.
The knowing that he was hers to map. To memorize. To love like this—in tiny kisses and quiet devotion and the sacred silence of morning.
She was somewhere around his lower back—her lips barely grazing a freckle just above his waistband—when she felt the shift.
A slow inhale. A subtle tightening of the arm still draped over her waist.
And then—his voice. Thick with sleep, low and amused, curling through the quiet like smoke.
“I know what you’re doing.”
Her heart stuttered.
She froze, her lips still a breath away from his skin. “No, you don’t.”
A lazy smirk tugged at his mouth before his eyes even opened. His voice was all gravel and heat. “You’re mapping me.”
She pressed a kiss just below his shoulder blade, trying to recover, trying to play it cool, though her cheeks flushed instantly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I’m flattered anyway.” He shifted, rolling onto his back, dragging her with him like she weighed nothing. One arm stayed curled around her, the other came up to brush a piece of hair from her face as he cracked one eye open. “How many did you get to?”
She rested her chin on his chest. “Somewhere between fifteen and losing my mind.”
“Sounds about right.” He smiled, slow and soft. One of those smiles that made her stomach drop and her heart climb into her throat.
His fingers traced idle shapes on the small of her back. “You kiss all of them?”
She arched an eyebrow, feigning offense. “What do you think I am, lazy?”
He laughed—a real one this time, chest rumbling beneath her. And then his voice dipped lower, teasing, but not unserious. “You missed one.”
“Oh yeah?” she murmured, tilting her head.
“Mhm.” His hand slid beneath the sheet, slow, suggestive, trailing heat along her thigh. “There’s one on my hip. Right here.”
She laughed, breathless, rolling her eyes even as her heart raced. “Convenient.”
“Extremely.”
And still, somehow, he was looking at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered. Like she was soft light and shelter and his.
She kissed the corner of his mouth, slow and lingering, then whispered, “Consider it… corrected.”
“You’re mine.”
The words hadn’t even finished leaving her lips before he was kissing her again—deep, consuming, with a hunger that had been coiled beneath the surface all morning. Austin moved over her like he couldn’t stand the space between them, mouth hot and desperate against hers, tongue sliding past her lips in a kiss that stole the breath right out of her lungs.
His hand slid under her shirt, and this time, it didn’t stop. He pushed the fabric up slowly, fingers dragging along her ribs, her waist, reverent like he was touching something holy. She lifted her arms for him without a word, and the shirt was gone, discarded in a soft thud to the floor.
He pulled back, just enough to look at her—eyes dark, blown wide, chest rising in shallow breaths.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
The way he said it—not just lust, but awe—made her skin flush, her thighs press together under him. She reached up, running her hands through the mess of his hair, tugging gently until he groaned and kissed her again, this time slower. Deeper.
Austin’s hands wandered like they’d missed her. One cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple until she arched beneath him. The other trailed down—slow, teasing—until it found the edge of her underwear.
He looked at her once, checking.
She nodded. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
Fingers dipped beneath the waistband, sliding over her slick heat, and his breath caught like she was the one wrecking him. He kissed her harder as he stroked her, fingers working her open while her hips lifted to meet him, soft gasps leaving her lips with every curl of his hand.
“You’re already so wet,” he muttered against her mouth, half in disbelief. “All that for me?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Always.”
That did something to him. He groaned—deep and guttural—then slipped a finger inside her, then another, curling just right, thumb circling her clit until she was trembling beneath him, thighs tightening, hands scrambling at his shoulders for something to hold on to.
She was close—right there, breath shallow, lips parted—
And then he stopped.
“Austin—”
“Shhh.” He kissed her jaw, her throat. “I’ve got you. I just need to be inside you when you fall apart.”
She whimpered at the promise in his voice.
He stripped quickly, underwear kicked to the floor, then lined himself up between her thighs, dragging his cock slowly through her slick heat, teasing her until her hips bucked. She was shaking, nails in his biceps, eyes wide and begging.
“Please.”
He pushed in with one long, slow thrust, and they both moaned—his name on her lips, her name rasped from his chest like a prayer. He filled her completely, perfectly, and then paused—just for a second—to feel it. The stretch. The heat. The way she clenched around him like her body was made for him.
“You feel—” he gasped. “—so fucking good.”
He moved slowly at first—deep, dragging strokes that made her gasp and reach for him, made her feel every inch of him. His hand cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing her bottom lip.
“Open,” he whispered.
She did. He slipped the thumb inside her mouth, watching her suck on it, eyes half-lidded, moaning around the weight of him inside her.
“Good girl,” he muttered.
That ruined her.
Her hands curled into the sheets. Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist. And he snapped, his rhythm shifting—deeper, faster, the sounds of skin meeting skin echoing through the room as he drove into her like he was trying to carve his name into her bones.
“Say it again,” he groaned. “Tell me whose you are.”
“Yours,” she gasped. “Yours, Austin, yours—”
And that was it. That was all it took.
He reached down, rubbed her clit hard and fast, and she broke with a cry—head thrown back, body arching into his, shattering around him like stars collapsing. Her orgasm pulsed through her, rippling tight around him until he cursed, hips stuttering, spilling deep inside her with a moan that was nothing short of worship.
They stayed there like that—panting, trembling, pressed forehead to forehead. His weight still on her, his breath still warm against her mouth.
“Still counting my freckles?” he asked hoarsely, a half-smile ghosting across his face.
She laughed weakly, threading her fingers through his hair. “I lost count. Somewhere around eternity.”
Granted, Uma should’ve said something.
She should’ve opened her mouth before the silence bloomed into a monster neither of them could name. Before her thoughts began to scream louder than his voice ever could. Before the fear rooted itself so deeply in her chest, it became part of the rhythm of her breath. A steady, quiet panic. A thrum beneath every word she never said.
She should’ve told him—God, she should’ve told him.
Told him how the dread didn’t come all at once. No, it arrived like a ripple in still water—small, harmless—until it swelled into a tide and dragged her under. Told him how the weight of being seen by millions, picked apart by strangers with sharp tongues and blurred faces, made her retreat from the only place that had ever felt like home: him.
She should’ve said that her silence wasn’t indifference—it was fear.
The kind that calcifies in your throat, that wraps around your ribs like barbed wire.
The kind that whispers, You are too much, and not enough, all at once.
And he wasn’t a mind reader. She knew that.
He was flesh and blood and tenderness and temper. He was flawed, real, trying. He couldn’t possibly know the wars she fought within herself unless she handed him the map. But she didn’t. She left him standing in the dark, alone, while she bled quietly in the corner and hoped—prayed—he’d just know.
That failure haunts her.
She should’ve told him she needed to hear it. Needed it. Not once, not twice—but endlessly. Like breath. Like heartbeat. Like her life depended on it.
She should’ve told him she wanted him to claim her—gently, ferociously.
That she wanted to be called his. His baby. His sweet girl. His beautiful mess.
That even when she was all sharp angles and contradictions, even when she didn’t know how to be soft, she still wanted to be his.
That she wanted to belong to him the way the sea belongs to the shore—wild and constant, crashing and returning, always, always coming home.
She wanted his voice to drown out the ones in her head.
Wanted his words to stitch the broken pieces back together.
Wanted to be wrapped in certainty—not because she was perfect, but because she was enough.
She wanted to be wanted.
Completely. Unconditionally.
Even when she was a storm.
Even when she didn’t know how to ask for it out loud.
But instead, she said nothing.
She’d stood in front of the man she loved more than air, bleeding in silence, hoping—desperately—that he’d recognize the shape of her wounds without her ever naming them. Hoping he’d reach for her anyway.
And now, here she sat—curled on the edge of the room, watching firelight dance across his profile, wondering if the space between them had become too wide to cross.
She wanted to go to him.
Fall at his feet. Press her face to his chest, not say a word, and beg with her being.
Say it.
Say I’m yours.
Even now.
Especially now.
She sighed—soft, shaky, almost inaudible—and gave in.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up, sinking down onto the edge of the sofa beside him. Close. Achingly close. But not close enough. Not nearly.
She could feel the heat of him beside her, could see the way his fingers were flexing against his knees, like he was holding something back. His jaw was tight, his eyes trained on the fire, flickering gold and shadow against the beautiful bone structure she loved too much to admit out loud.
But still—he didn’t look at her.
And that was what broke her.
Because she couldn't take the silence anymore. Couldn't take pretending that distance didn’t hurt.
So she rose again, slowly, almost dazed, like she was being pulled by something magnetic and ancient. She stepped between his knees, her bare feet silent against the floor, and placed her hands gently on his shoulders.
He looked up, startled at first—but he didn’t stop her. He didn’t move.
So she guided him back, eased him into the cushions, then climbed into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her knees sank into the sofa on either side of his hips. Her fingers threaded into his hair as her gaze—God, her gaze—searched his face with a desperation she couldn’t hide anymore.
And then she saw them.
His eyes.
Those impossibly blue eyes that had always undone her.
They were darker tonight—not quite storm, not quite sky. Somewhere suspended in between. And in them, she saw everything she was afraid of. Everything she wanted.
So much depth. So much weight. So much love, unspoken and trembling on the edge of his lashes.
She leaned in. Her forehead nearly brushed his. Her hands cradled his jaw like it was something sacred. And when she spoke, it was a prayer disguised as a plea.
“Tell me I’m yours.”
Her voice cracked on the last word.
His eyes widened. His mouth parted like he might say something—but no sound came out.
So she said it again. Softer. Broken.
“Please.”
She swallowed hard, her thumbs brushing across the scruff on his cheeks, memorizing the shape of him. She wanted to bury herself in him, crawl beneath his skin, live in the parts of him that never turned away.
“Even now,” she whispered, her voice nearly shaking. “Especially now.”
Because what she was really saying—what she couldn’t say—was:
Remind me I’m safe. Remind me I’m wanted. Tell me I’m still yours, even when I’ve made it hard to be.
And she waited.
Wide open. Bare.
A girl holding out her heart, hoping the boy she gave it to still wanted it.
She trembled in his lap, her legs on either side of him, fingers curled along the line of his jaw like she was holding him together. Like if she let go, the space between them would swallow her whole.
Her eyes, glassy and dark, searched his face like they were reading scripture—like somewhere beneath his silence, his stillness, was the answer she needed to keep breathing.
“Tell me I’m yours,” she whispered, the words tumbling out so softly, so broken, they barely made it across the space between them. “Please. Even now. Especially now.”
The silence that followed was thick, trembling with things unsaid. The firelight danced between them, casting gold on her tear-glossed cheeks, warming the shiver in her shoulders.
And Austin—
He didn’t answer right away.
Because how could he, when her words had just gutted him?
He felt like she’d opened his chest and dropped her heart inside it, still beating, still bruised, still so trusting—asking, do you still want this?
He reached for her slowly, as if any sudden movement would send her vanishing into smoke. His palms came to rest on her thighs, fingers spreading gently, grounding him in the warmth of her skin. He could feel the faint tremble in her legs, the tension in her hips, the way she was holding herself like she might break in his hands.
“Uma,” he breathed—her name nothing more than air and ache.
He tilted his head back just enough to see her clearly, to take in every inch of her: flushed cheeks, lashes wet, lips parted, a furrow between her brows like hope and fear were still battling behind her eyes.
And then—his voice cracked like something sacred and breaking.
“You’re mine.”
She blinked hard, lips quivering, but he kept going.
“You’re my baby,” he whispered, voice thick, each word soaked in reverence. “My girl. My everything.”
He leaned in, their foreheads brushing, breath mixing. The air between them hummed like the last second before lightning.
“Doesn’t matter how hard it gets. Doesn’t matter if we yell, if you go quiet on me, if the world tears you up and you don’t know how to find your way back—I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”
His hands slid up her sides, thumbs brushing her waist with worshipful care. Like she was something delicate. Like he wanted to rebuild her from the inside out.
“You should’ve told me,” he said, voice near breaking. “I would’ve said it a hundred times. A thousand. I would’ve screamed it if that’s what you needed.”
Tears were sliding down her cheeks now, silent and aching. She didn’t wipe them away.
“You’re mine when you’re soft,” he murmured, “when you’re kind and sweet and full of sunlight. And you’re mine when you’re a fucking hurricane. When you’re too tired to talk, when you pull away. When the fear gets louder than your love—I’ll still be here.”
His voice dropped, barely a whisper now.
“You’re mine when you can’t say it. When you can’t ask.
And I’m yours, Uma. I’m yours. Not halfway. Not when it’s easy.
Always.”
She made a sound—shattered and quiet—and then she moved.
She surged forward like she couldn’t take one more second of space between them. Her hands fisted in his hair, her mouth crashed into his with a desperation that made his whole body jolt. The kiss wasn’t neat, wasn’t perfect—it was wet, gasping, starved.
She kissed him like she was drowning and he was the only thing keeping her above water. Like she was pouring everything she didn’t know how to say into the heat of his mouth, the clutch of his shoulders, the way she whimpered his name into his skin.
And Austin held her like he’d been waiting for her to fall apart just so he could catch her. His arms wrapped around her back, hands pressing to the bare skin beneath her shirt, pulling her closer—closer—until not even the air could slip between them.
She sobbed into his kiss, and he kissed her through it.
She gasped his name, and he pressed his lips to her cheeks, her forehead, the corner of her trembling mouth.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered. Again and again. “I’ve got you. You’re mine. I’m yours.”
And somehow—
Even in all the aching mess of it, all the tears and the heartbreak and the things they still had to learn—
It was enough.
It was everything.
He kissed her like he needed her to feel it—not just on her lips, but in her chest, in her bloodstream, in every place she'd ever doubted if she was worthy of being wanted like this.
She moaned softly into his mouth as his hands slid beneath her shirt, rough palms dragging up her spine, slow and unhurried. They were learning each other again—not as strangers, but as lovers rediscovering how to say I still want you with their bodies.
He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.
“Can I take this off?” he asked, fingers curled into the hem of her shirt.
She nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Please.”
He tugged it over her head gently, reverently, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d been too scared to open before. And then—he just looked. His eyes dragged across her bare skin, and everything about him stilled.
Like he couldn’t believe she was real. Sitting in his lap. Letting him see her.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough and uneven, like it hurt to say it out loud.
Her heart thudded against her ribs as his hands found her waist, thumbs brushing the dip just above her hips. He leaned in and kissed her collarbone, then lower—his lips warm and open, grazing the slope of her breast. She gasped when his tongue flicked over her nipple, and he groaned—deep and low in his chest—like her pleasure was his own.
“Fuck, I missed this,” he whispered, dragging his mouth across to the other side. “Missed you.”
She threaded her fingers into his hair, tugging when he sucked a little harder, a little deeper—until her thighs started to squeeze around his waist.
When he finally kissed down her stomach, she couldn’t breathe.
Each kiss was deliberate. Open-mouthed. Wet. His tongue teased the dip of her navel. His hands gripped her thighs, thumbs brushing the soft flesh at the top, and then—
He looked up at her.
“Let me taste you.”
Her breath hitched.
She nodded, unable to speak, and he smiled—soft and filthy—as he slid her panties down her legs, kissing her knees, her thighs, the crease where leg met hip. She was already shaking before he even touched her there.
And then his mouth found her.
He groaned the second his tongue slipped through her folds, like she was something he’d been craving. His arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her steady, to keep her here, and then he went to work.
He was slow, at first. Wide, teasing licks from bottom to top, the flat of his tongue dragging up her slit before flicking—soft, rhythmic, devastating—against her clit. Then again. And again. Until her fingers clawed into his hair and she couldn’t hold still.
“God—Austin—” she gasped, hips stuttering.
He moaned into her, his fingers digging deeper into her thighs. Then one hand slipped between her legs, fingers slick and confident as he eased one inside her—then two.
The stretch made her cry out, and he smiled into her heat.
“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, voice muffled. “Let me have you. Let me make you feel good.”
His fingers curled inside her with precision, the rhythm of his thrusts syncing with his tongue on her clit. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t messy.
It was intentional.
Worshipful.
Like he wanted her to fall apart slowly—wanted to earn it.
Her whole body arched, mouth open in a silent cry as her orgasm crept up like fire licking through her veins. It hit her like a wave—sharp, overwhelming, perfect. She pulsed around his fingers, thighs shaking, cries spilling out of her like she was exorcising every fear she’d ever swallowed down.
He kissed her through it, gentle now. Kisses on her thighs. Her stomach. The inside of her knee. Like he couldn’t stop loving her just because she’d come.
She collapsed into his chest, dazed and breathless, her skin flushed and damp, her mouth still parted like she might cry again.
Austin wrapped his arms around her, pressing kisses into her hair, her temple, her cheek.
“You okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse, lips grazing the corner of her mouth.
She nodded against him, whispering, “Don’t stop.”
His breath caught.
She looked up at him—wrecked, glowing, eyes glassy with need.
“I need you inside me,” she said. “I need to feel you. All of you.”
And the look he gave her in that moment—utterly unhinged with love—would’ve made her weep if she hadn’t already.
“Then baby,” he said, voice shaking, “I’m not gonna leave your body all night.”
He entered her slowly—agonizingly so—like he was afraid too much too soon might shatter her. Might shatter them.
Uma gasped, back arching slightly as he pressed into her, inch by careful inch, stretching her open, claiming the space between her hips with reverence. Her hands clutched his shoulders, her breath hitching at the sheer depth of it—not just the physical stretch, but the way it felt like he was slotting into something more than her body. Like he was sliding into every part of her she’d left empty.
Austin’s eyes fluttered closed, his jaw tense, breath trembling. The heat of her surrounded him, warm and wet and home, and it took everything in him not to lose himself right there.
He sank down onto his forearms, chest pressing against hers, mouth brushing her temple as he held still—deep inside, grounded in the feel of her.
“Jesus,” he whispered, voice raw. “You feel… so fuckin’ good.”
Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist, needing more. Needing all of him.
“Move,” she whispered against his neck, her voice barely more than air. “Please, Austin…”
So he did.
Slowly. Gently. He rolled his hips in a steady, aching rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate. Like he wasn’t just trying to make her come—he was trying to reach her. Reassure her. Ruin her for anyone else who’d ever dare try to love her this way.
Their skin slid together, slick with sweat and friction. Her breath came in soft little gasps, lips parted, eyelids fluttering as pleasure built sharp and slow in her belly.
He kissed her everywhere—her cheek, her throat, the spot behind her ear that made her hips jerk. His mouth moved down to her collarbone, open and wet, tongue tracing the ridge before he sucked gently, leaving a faint red mark that would blossom into a bruise.
His name spilled out of her mouth over and over—sometimes a whisper, sometimes a moan, sometimes just a broken sound she didn’t know how to shape.
“I love you,” he said into her skin, between thrusts, like a prayer. “I love you. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”
Her fingers slid into his hair, pulling him closer until their mouths met again—sloppy and desperate now, all teeth and tongue and emotion too big to hold.
He moved deeper, slower, hips grinding into hers just right, the angle of each thrust making her thighs tremble, her hands fist in the cushions, her breath catch in her throat.
The build was unbearable.
And still—he didn’t speed up.
He kissed her like he had nowhere else to be. Like there was no world outside this room. No fire still crackling behind them. No argument. No pain. Just her and the way her body gripped his and begged him not to stop.
“I need—” she gasped. “Austin, I’m gonna—”
“I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers, eyes wide open and locked on hers like he needed to see her fall apart.
She came with a cry that was all throat and surrender, legs tightening, hips lifting, body shaking. Her orgasm tore through her like a wave—endless, aching, all-consuming.
And as she clenched around him, pulling him deeper into the tremors, he groaned—low and deep—grinding against her once, twice more before he came with a curse against her mouth, his release slow and hot and holy.
They didn’t separate.
Didn’t untangle.
He stayed inside her, their bodies still joined, her heartbeat fluttering under his hand where it rested just below her breast. He kissed her forehead, then her cheek, then the corner of her mouth—so soft, so gentle now.
“Still with me?” he whispered, brushing back her hair.
“Always,” she murmured, voice wrecked, lips swollen.
He smiled. Kissed her again.
And held her there, in the quiet, in the glow of the firelight, where nothing could touch them except the echo of I’m yours. You’re mine. Still. Always.
She was still trembling when she whispered it.
“Wanna try something.”
Austin paused. His thumb was still circling the slick mess between her thighs, and he leaned in close, catching the shift in her tone.
“Yeah?” he murmured, low and rasped. “Tell me.”
She swallowed. Her cheeks were already flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses, her thighs still sticky from the way he’d just had her crying into the pillows.
“I want you…” She bit her lip. “Back there.”
Time slowed.
Austin blinked, then stilled completely—his eyes dropping to her parted lips, then lower, to the flushed curve of her ass. Her voice was shy, but the look in her eyes? That was brave. That was a gift.
“Holy fuck,” he muttered. “You sure, baby?”
She nodded. “I want to be all yours.”
And just like that—his control snapped.
He didn’t rush. He dragged her over his lap, one hand spreading her open while the other reached for the drawer. She heard the lube bottle open, the squelch of it hitting his palm, and then—
Cool. A long, slow drizzle of lube poured between her cheeks.
She gasped.
Austin grinned.
“That’s it,” he purred, rubbing it in, slow and firm. “Gettin’ you nice and wet for me. Can’t just shove it in like some dumbfuck rookie.”
His fingers worked her open gently—obscenely slick, the lube making every stroke, every press, soaked. When the pad of his finger circled her rim, she twitched, breath hitching. He leaned down, lips brushing her spine.
“Let me in, baby. C’mon, open up f’me.”
She moaned—needy, high-pitched—and he slid the first finger in, watching with dark, reverent eyes as her tight heat gripped him.
“Fuck. So tight. You’re squeezin’ the hell outta me.”
He worked her open—one finger, then two—slow pumps, twisting gently, until her moans turned into cries, her body pressing back into him shamelessly.
“That’s it. My filthy little angel.” He kissed her neck. “Gettin’ ruined for me like it’s what you were fuckin’ made for.”
She whimpered. “Please, Austin. Want you in me.”
He slicked up his cock—coated it—lube dripping down his shaft as he lined up behind her. Her body was trembling, her hands clenched in the cushions. Her pussy was still wet, twitching, aching.
“Stay still,” he growled. “Let me stretch this perfect fuckin’ hole.”
And then—he pushed in.
The stretch was blinding—hot, slow, filthy. She gasped, back arching, lips falling open in a silent moan.
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Take it. Take it all. You’re doin’ so good, baby.”
She sobbed—pure sensation wrecking her.
“You feel me?” he growled. “Feel how deep I am? This ass is mine now, you fuckin’ hear me?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes from how full she felt.
“Say it,” he demanded, snapping his hips once, hard enough to make her jolt. “Say whose you are.”
“I’m yours,” she cried. “Yours, Austin. All yours—oh, God—”
“Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”
He started moving—slow at first, making her feel every inch. The lube made it slick and sinful, every thrust loud and wet, her whimpers echoing off the walls. He reached around and grabbed her throat—gently, a hand there to steady her, thumb brushing her jaw.
“Look at you,” he murmured in her ear. “All cock-drunk on somethin’ you weren’t even ready for ten minutes ago. You’re fuckin’ perfect.”
He circled her clit again, watching her come apart.
“You gonna come for me?” he asked, grinding deep. “Gonna make a mess while I’m buried in this tight little hole?”
“Yes—yes, I’m gonna—fuck—”
She shattered—loud, shaking, undone. Her body clamped down, rippling around him, and he fucked her through it, biting down on her shoulder to muffle his own moan.
When he came, it was rough and raw—hips stuttering, cock pulsing, lube and come leaking out around the seal of her ass.
He didn’t pull out right away.
Instead, he kissed her cheek, then her shoulder, then her spine.
“Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, still trembling.
He smirked.
“Good girl.”
He was still buried in her when the tremors started to settle. Her body had gone lax—shaking slightly, breaths uneven, a flush creeping down her spine as the fire crackled in the distance.
“Fuck,” he muttered, voice thick, reverent. “You’re somethin’ else.”
And then, without warning—he pulled out.
She gasped, hips twitching from the loss of him, the leak already starting down her thighs, warm and filthy. But before she could even catch her breath, he gripped her waist and dragged her back—gently, firmly—until she was spread over the arm of the couch, legs trembling.
“Wait—A-Austin—what’re you—”
He was already dropping to his knees.
“You didn’t think I was done,” he growled, breath hot against her swollen, wrecked heat. “Not when you’re drippin’ like that.”
And then—
his mouth was on her.
No warning. No hesitation.
Just hot, wet, sloppy worship.
He licked up everything—everything—his tongue slow and flat, dragging up from her pulsing pussy to the soft mess leaking from her back hole. His groan was guttural, deep in his chest, like he was tasting something sacred.
“Fuckin’ ruined,” he murmured against her, licking messily. “Can’t believe how good you taste.”
She choked on a moan, hands clutching the cushions like a lifeline.
Austin’s grip tightened on her hips. He spread her wider, tongue sliding between her folds like he was starving, sucking her clit with practiced precision before flicking it, then dragging his tongue down again to where his come was leaking out of her.
“You feel that?” he rasped, licking up his own mess. “That’s mine. Soaked in it. Filled you so deep you’re still dripping.”
She moaned shamelessly, trying to shift—but his hands were iron.
“Oh no,” he said darkly, pulling her hips back again. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
He dove back in, this time using his tongue and two fingers—curling them deep, lips suctioning around her swollen clit while his thumb rubbed slow, slick circles against the messier part of her. Messy, nasty, perfect.
“Gonna make you come again,” he grunted, voice muffled by her. “Wanna taste you fall apart.”
“Austin—A-Austin I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice was low, possessive. “You will. I said I wasn’t done.”
He pushed deeper, sucked harder, and she screamed into the cushions, coming so violently her whole body seized. Her thighs shook. Her voice broke. Her vision blurred.
And still, he didn’t stop.
He kissed her through it. Licked up every aftershock. Kept murmuring “mine” between each stroke of his tongue until she was limp, drooling, wrecked.
When he finally pulled away, his lips were shiny, his voice thick with worship.
“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Her body was still flushed—skin dewy, lips kiss-swollen, thighs slick with the aftermath of everything he’d given her. But she wasn’t done. Not even close.
She blinked up at him, eyes glassy with exhaustion and need, and whispered, “Sit down.”
Austin was still catching his breath, chest heaving, one hand dragging through his hair. “Baby—”
“I wanna taste you.”
That shut him up. Instantly.
She pushed at his thigh until he dropped back onto the couch, still sticky and softening—but not for long. Not with the way she looked at him. Not with that raw hunger in her eyes. Not when she crawled between his legs like that—messy and radiant, fingers tracing the trail of lube and come down his length with reverence.
She licked it—slow, one stripe from base to tip, eyes never leaving his.
“You’re such a fuckin’ problem,” he muttered, hand falling into her hair.
“Say thank you,” she whispered, licking again, tongue tracing the underside of him like she was committing it to memory.
“Thank you,” he rasped. “Jesus.”
She smiled, then swallowed him whole.
He let out a choked moan, hips jerking forward—but she held him down with one hand on his thigh, the other wrapped around the base of his cock as she bobbed her head, slow at first. Worshipful. Taking her time. Letting him feel the wet, velvet heat of her mouth, the way her tongue circled him on the way back up, her lips popping off the head with a soft, sinful sound.
“Look at you,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Such a good girl—fuck—suckin’ me clean after I filled you up.”
She whimpered around him, taking him deeper, until tears welled in her eyes and spit dripped from her chin.
“You want me to come in that pretty mouth?” he asked, low and dangerous. “Or you want it all over that sweet fuckin’ face?”
She pulled off with a gasp, blinking up at him, lips swollen. “Whatever you want.”
He clenched his jaw. “Goddamn.”
Then she was on him again—faster now, hand and mouth working together in perfect rhythm, a filthy wet symphony as his hips began to stutter.
“Just like that,” he gasped. “That’s it, baby. Fuck—you’re gonna make me—”
He groaned, long and low, as he came—hot and thick, spilling across her tongue and lips. She swallowed once. Twice. Let the rest drip down her chin, her throat, her chest.
And smiled.
He stared at her, wrecked. “You’re gonna be the fuckin’ death of me.”
She licked her lips and sat back on her heels, glowing.
“Good,” she whispered. “Die madly in love, then.”
She was still on her knees—messy, blinking, glowing—but the tremble in her thighs told him she was spent. Not just satisfied. Spent.
Austin reached for her the second she sat back on her heels, pulling her up into his lap like she weighed nothing. Her skin was warm, flushed, sticky where their bodies had met over and over again. But he didn’t care about the mess. He tucked her into him like she was made to fit there, pressing kisses to her temple, her shoulder, the damp curve of her neck.
“You okay, baby?” he asked softly, brushing the hair out of her eyes.
She nodded, eyes still dazed. “Mmhm.”
But he didn’t take that for granted. He kissed the top of her head. “Color?”
She breathed out a tiny laugh—touched by how serious he was about checking in, even now. “Green.”
He relaxed. “Good girl.”
Then he was on his feet, carrying her bridal style straight to the bathroom. The lights were dim, the air still heavy with heat and sweat and firelight. He nudged the faucet with his knee and started running the bath, his chin tucked over her shoulder, murmuring to her as the water filled the tub.
“You were perfect, you know that?”
She smiled, half-asleep on his shoulder.
“So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he added, setting her down on the edge of the tub.
When he undressed her—what little clothing remained—he did it gently. No rush. No hunger left in him. Just soft fingers, tracing bruises and bite marks like they were precious. He helped her in first, then slipped in behind her, settling her between his legs. His arms came around her like instinct.
The water was hot. Her breath hitched.
But then she melted.
Austin pressed his lips to the top of her spine, rubbing her thighs under the water, then her hips, then her arms—gentle, circular motions. Her breath evened out. Her head fell back against his chest.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, his voice barely there. “Need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” she said softly. “More than okay. I just… I feel full. Loved.”
He smiled into her damp hair. “You are.”
They sat like that for a while—his fingers still moving, rinsing the sweat and lube and come from her skin, brushing over her body like he was trying to memorize it all over again.
Eventually, he reached for the soap, lathered it up in his hands, and washed her. Her arms, her neck, her thighs. Between her legs, with reverence. Not arousal. Just care.
And when they got out, he wrapped her in the softest towel they’d brought, pulled her back to bed, and tucked her under the sheets. Clean skin, warm limbs, her body folded into his again like she’d never left.
He kissed her slow this time—no urgency. Just lips to lips, over and over.
“You’re mine, you know,” he murmured. “Not just when I fuck you. Always.”
She nodded, barely conscious, fingers curled against his chest.
“Yours,” she whispered. “Always.
He didn’t crawl into bed right away.
She was tucked beneath the comforter, her body still warm and pliant from the bath, her lashes fluttering, that post-bliss daze softening every line in her face. But Austin didn’t move to join her—not yet.
He dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed.
And she noticed. Her brow knit, just faintly. “Austin… what are you doing?”
He didn’t answer with words—not at first.
Instead, he reached for the cocoa butter lotion, uncapped it quietly, and began rubbing it between his hands. The scent rose up—warm, nostalgic, soft. It smelled like safety. Like something that had existed long before him, but something he wanted to be part of now.
Then he lifted one of her legs, cradling her foot in his lap like it was something delicate. Sacred.
“You don’t have to do that,” she whispered.
“I know.” His voice was low, near reverent. “But I want to.”
His fingers began working the lotion into her foot—slow, strong strokes over the arch, the heel, the ball. Every pass of his thumbs said: I see you. I’m sorry. I’m still here.
He looked down at what he was doing like her skin deserved all his attention. Like the act of soothing her was more holy than any apology. And maybe it was.
“I hate when we fight,” he murmured, not looking up. “Not ‘cause we don’t bounce back. But because I know what happens in your head when we do.”
Her throat tightened.
“You go quiet,” he went on. “You start thinkin’ I don’t want you anymore. That you’re too complicated. That I’m regrettin’ all this.”
He moved up to her ankle, thumbs pressing in gentle, firm circles.
“But that’s not true,” he said. “Not for a single second.”
He brought her foot to his lips, kissed the inside of her ankle—slow, lips lingering like a vow. Then set it down carefully and took the other.
“You don’t have to be easy to love for me to stay,” he whispered, working the lotion into her other foot, her toes, the softest parts of her. “You don’t have to shrink your fear. Or hold back what you need. You think I don’t wanna hear it, but baby…”
Now he looked up.
“I want every fucking messy piece of you.”
Her lip trembled.
“I want the girl who spirals sometimes. Who needs to be held a little tighter. Who needs me to say it again, and again, and again.”
He kissed her shin. Her knee. The inside of her thigh. Not to start something, but to finish what they began—to love her through the cracks, the silence, the aftermath of not knowing how to ask.
He moved up the bed, pulled the covers back, and finally—finally—gathered her into his arms like she was something he’d nearly lost.
And she melted. Instantly. Her cheek pressed to his chest. Her fingers curled into his shirt like she couldn’t bear the idea of space between them. Not now. Not again.
He held her like she was breakable and beloved.
And then he whispered, lips at her temple:
“I love you. I love you when you’re sweet. I love you when you’re scared. I love you when you shut down. And I love you even when it’s hard.”
She swallowed hard. “Say it again?”
He cupped her jaw, tilted her chin gently, kissed the tear from the corner of her eye.
“I love you,” he said again. Slower this time. Deeper. “I’m proud of you. You don’t scare me. You’ll never scare me. And I’m not going anywhere.”
She fit against him like she was made to be there.
Curled on her side, legs tangled in his, face tucked beneath his chin, the soft sighs that slipped from her lips were the kind that only came after being loved fully—through the ache, the apology, the silence and the surrender. She had nothing left to hold up now. No shield. No sharp edges. Just soft skin and raw honesty, wrapped in warm sheets and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against her cheek.
And he—he didn’t let go.
One arm lay snug around her back, the other traced lazy, featherlight lines up and down her spine, fingertips brushing the bumps of her vertebrae like a devotion. He was whispering still. Words that meant everything and nothing at once, the kinds of things you say when someone’s already asleep but you say them anyway—because they need to be said. Because she needed to hear them, even if only in her dreams.
“I’m right here, baby,” he murmured.
“You’re safe.”
“You’re not too much.”
“You’re my girl.”
The quiet pressed in all around them. Outside, the wind danced gently through the redwoods. The fire had burned down to embers, its glow a soft flicker in the distance. But in this bed—in his arms—she was wrapped in something warmer than flame.
Her breath began to slow. So did the faint twitch of her fingers that had clung so desperately to his shirt just minutes ago. Her lips parted slightly. Her lashes fluttered. And then… peace. Sleep, slow and heavy, finally claimed her.
He felt the shift.
The way her muscles melted fully into him. The way she exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for days. The way she pressed her thigh tighter over his hip in sleep, even unconsciously seeking him out.
And God—if his heart didn’t crack open just watching her.
Austin didn’t sleep right away. He couldn’t. Not with how perfect she looked like this. Wrecked and clean. Loved and vulnerable. A girl who’d peeled herself open for him and let him love every scared, stubborn, beautiful part.
He studied the faint glow of her skin in the dark. The crease of her brow, now smoothed. The smudge of cocoa butter still lingering behind her ear. The place at her throat where her pulse fluttered like a secret only he knew.
She was still here.
Still his.
He kissed her there—just below her jaw, where her skin was warm and familiar—and whispered, softer this time, almost like he was telling the night itself:
“You’re mine. Not just tonight. Every night.”
And then he wrapped both arms around her, tucked her close like a prayer, and closed his eyes.
Wow! I accidentally stumbled on this and it jumped out at me, and wow! This is so cool, so sweet, so sexy, hot, and full of awesomeness. Love how supportive Austin is in this story and loving and devoted, no matter what. And he is so sexy and a scorcher. Mmmmm. Such a great story. I definitely recommend reading it. Took me by surprise, and dang! Hot! Sweet! Scorcher! Awesome! His! Mine. Mmmm. 🔥🥵
Austin Butler is back! (and in such a different role! I love it!) Ari Aster is back! Eddington trailer! Finally! Let's go!!! Can't wait for the movie! Coming out July 18. 😍
