#austin x y/n

[vintagepresley]

Elvis or Austin walks in on reader fully naked

Thanks for the request! ❤️

The Golden Globes were coming up in two days and Austin still didn't have a anyone to bring with him since his sister was unable to make it. He had thought about asking if you'd wanna accompany him since you were his best friend and there wasn't anyone else besides you or his sister that he'd want to bring. But he wasn't sure how'd you respond since you were never one for that kind of attention and you saw firsthand how crazy his life had gotten since Elvis, it was overwhelming for you. But he figured that he'd ask anyway so he quickly grabbed his phone and called you. You could feel your phone vibrating in your back pocket as you were getting some coffee at a local coffee shop, you slid it from your back pocket and smiled when you saw it was Austin. You wouldn't ever admit this to anyone not even him, but you had always had the biggest crush on him. But he never seemed to take any interest in you the same way which kinda led to you being friend zoned.

You slide your thumb across the screen to answer it and held it to your ear. "Hey, what's up?" you said softly as you paid for your coffee. "Y/N, hey, I had a question and you can say no if you want. But just know I'd truly appreciate it if you didn't." he said with a soft chuckle. You raised an eyebrow at his words. "Uh, okay.. What did you do?" you laughed. "I didn't do anything. It's nothing bad!" he said rolling his eyes playfully. "I was just wondering if you'd be my plus one to the Golden Globes?" he said hesitantly. You nearly spat out your coffee at his words. "Me?!" you exclaimed. He laughed at your reaction. "What about Ashley?? I thought you were taking her." you said still in shock. "She can't make it. I'd really like for someone who's like family to join me." he said. You were a bit apprehensive about the whole thing because that was not your world and you certainly didn't have anything that would be able to even walk down the red carpet in. But you didn't want to let him down because this was a huge night for him especially if he wins. "Soooo... Will you?" he questions. You cleared your throat and exhaled softly. "Okay, yeah, I'll go. But I have nothing suitable to wear to this." you teased. "Don't worry about that. You know when it is right?" he asked. You furrowed your brow at him telling you not to worry when that's the biggest thing to worry about. "Mhm, I do. I'll come over to your place that day." you said. "Okay, sounds good. Thank you for this." he said softly. You smiled to yourself as the both of you hung up.

Two days later and it was the big day. You were a nervous wreck as you got to Austin's house a little after noon. He welcomed you inside and you were greeted by a few other people that looked like they were in the process of getting him ready for tonight. He pulled you into a hug the moment you walked in his house and you smiled hugging him back and capturing your bottom lip between your teeth as you got a hint of his cologne before he pulled away. "I'm so happy you are doing this." he beamed. "Well, that's what friends are for." you smiled. "Uh, Aus.. I don't have anything to wear. I know you said don't worry but-" he cut you off and grinned cutely before he grabbed a hold of your hand and led you over to the living room where the dress he gotten for you was hanging. You were in awe of the beautiful backless red dress. "I-Is that for me?" you say softly. "Of course. I picked it out myself." he smiled. You had never seen anything more beautiful let alone wore something this beautiful. He grabbed the dress from where it was hanging and handed it to you. "Go try it on." he said happily. You took it into your hands, running your fingers over the soft silk of the dress. "Austin.. You didn't have to do this." you said shyly. "Stop it, I wanted to. Now go try it on. I want to see what it looks like on you." he smiled gesturing for you to go to his room.

You smiled and nodded at him. "Okay, I will." you beamed and began to make your way into his room, shutting the door closed and laying the beautiful dress onto his bed so you could undress, taking everything off wanting to see how it would feel if you went commando under the soft silk. You stood there for a moment in your nakedness just still in awe of this dress. While Austin waited for you he realized he forgot to give you the shoes that went with it and he quickly grabbed them and not even thinking that you may have already started getting undressed but it was too late at that point because he had already burst through the door with the shoes in hand. "You forgot the-" but he suddenly forgot how to speak when he was face to face with you and his eyes widen at the sight of you naked. You gasped when you saw him and quickly grabbed your shirt to drape it over the front of your body to cover what you could. "Austin!" you shrieked. He swallowed harshly as his eyes wandered over every inch, every curve, every line, everything and since your shirt didn't cover much but your breasts he got an eyeful of your pussy. He didn't say a word it was as if he was frozen in place. He'd never really thought of you in such a sexual way, he did have a bit of a crush on you when you first met, but you didn't seem too interested in him or you didn't let it show that you did. So he pushed those thoughts from his mind about you. But now they were all coming back.

"Earth to Austin! Hello?? Can you get out!?" you yelled. He snapped out of his dirty thoughts about you and cleared his throat nervously, his cheeks becoming a bit flushed. "Uh... I-Uh... Here's the shoes.." he put them down frantically and he quickly made his exit almost slamming the door how fast he closed it. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously the image of your naked body replaying in his head. You didn't even know what to do after what just happened you felt so embarrassed having him walk in on you like that. You didn't know how you were going to possibly face him now without being awkward and shy and he felt the same way. You eventually got the dress on and smoothing it over your body and checking yourself out in his mirror and staring at how the dress clung to your body and you really liked how beautiful it looked and how great you felt in it. You slipped on the heels which went so well with the dress and you took a deep breathing still needing to show Austin what it all looked like but you were so nervous. You slowly opened the door, peering out of the small crack to see him pacing back and forth with such a nervousness to him.

What the hell is he nervous about? He walked in on ME naked. You opened the door more and slipped out of his room slowly approaching him and everyone else. He turned to face you as he heard the sounds of your heels and his eyes lit up when he saw you in the dress his jaw practically on the floor seeing how the dress hugged every bit of your curves so perfectly, he couldn't understand the feelings that he was beginning to feel so strongly. But one thing was for sure he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off you. You cleared your throat a bit afraid to even look at him as you mumbled, "How do I look?" in a soft tone, turning a bit give him a view of the backless part. "Perfect.." Austin murmured. You furrowed your brow catching a bit of what he said but not really. "What?" you asked softly. "Uh, I mean.. You look beautiful. I knew that dress was perfect for you." he smiled, rubbing at his face shyly. You tried your best not to blush as you still wouldn't make eye contact with him. "Thank you and thank you for the dress. "No need to thank me." he smiled. "I guess I'll get ready now.." he mumbled as he began to walk past you to get to his room the two of you making eye contact as he passed and quickly looking away from one another. Tonight is going to be awkward.

Once he went off to get dressed you were being brought over to get your hair and makeup done. It was all so very strange being pampered this way, being dressed this way and going to the Golden Globes, that you told them not to go to heavy with the makeup. You were already nervous about going there and now you're doubly nervous because things were going to be super awkward between you and Austin you could just feel the tension in the air between the two of you. Moments later Austin came out in the most beautiful tux that you tried not to stare too hard at him but he looked so handsome. "How do I look?" he beamed. "You look very handsome." you said softly, nodding your head. He smiled at your words and he still was completely in awe of you that he knew you'd be a distraction for him the whole night especially after knowing how you look under that dress. You were finished with your hair and makeup and you stood up now soothing out your dress and you watched as Austin went to get his hair done and you were being handed a purse that went along with your dress, clutching it in your hands as you stared at Austin. You kept giving each other quick glances and then looking away.

You both were ready now and by the time you both got ready it was almost time to start heading to the show to walk the red carpet. Your nerves kicking in full force and Austin reached out his hand to you and you hesitantly took his hand in yours. You tried to hide your slight blush. "Don't want you falling down the stairs with those heels." he chuckled. You rolled your eyes at him as he you held onto his hand a bit tighter as the two of you made your way out with a few of his people following behind as you got into the huge suv that was there to pick him up. He helped you inside of the car and he stepped in right after, sliding over next to you. He could tell you were nervous because your hand was shaking in your lap and he gently placed his hand over yours. "You'll be okay, I get nervous too." he smiled. You nodded with a small smile as you stared out the window as you begun your journey there and you noticed that he had not removed his hand from yours which only made you smile widely to yourself. Things seemed to be going okay only a bit of awkwardness not what you expected but you did catch him staring down at your body a few times and he assumed that you didn't catch him. But you did.

Once you got to the Golden Globes the crowd of people was insane and the amount of celebrities that were there made you feel out of place. Austin tightened his hand around yours and intertwined his fingers between yours slowly. "Ready? You're my hot date tonight!" he grinned. You blushed for the thousand time tonight and followed him out of the car, he helped you down and let go of your hand to slip around your waist, keeping you close by him wanting to help you feel as comfortable as possible. You were trying not to faint at the feeling of his strong arm around your waist and just being this close to him. He was being so different with you now and treating you not just as his friend, but as if he had actual interest in you. You held onto your dress a bit as to not step on it as you two walked down the red carpet together, the cameras snapping away and the people screaming. You stared up at him. "What if they think I'm your girlfriend?" you whispered to him. "Would that bother you?" he asked with an eyebrow raised. "Oh.. Uh.. I-I don't think so..." you said shyly. "Then who cares what they think." He said with a shrug as he squeezed at your waist a bit tighter.

Now it was time to pose for pictures and you were not excited about that but Austin wasn't letting you leave his side especially not in that dress even as the photographers had yelled for him to get pictures on his own he refused because he didn't want to let you go. You felt less nervous since he did everything to make you feel comfortable and you opened up a bit more and started posing a bit with him for the pictures. But it was needed for him to take a few alone and you didn't mind so you wiggled from his grip and stood to the side as he took his solo pictures reluctantly. You smiled warmly as you watched him and if you didn't already have the biggest crush on him it grew even more just standing there. "Let's get a few of your girlfriend!" one photographer shouted. Austin smiled to himself and you shook your head with a smile because you knew they would assume you were dating. Austin gestured you over to him and you walked over and then he moved out of the frame of the cameras so they could get solo shoots of you. You thought it was strange they wanted photos of someone that wasn't famous, but you played along with it and after a while Austin grabbed your hand again and waving to the photographers as he whisked you away.

"That wasn't too bad, huh?" he grinned. "I guess not." you smiled. The two of you eventually headed inside after Austin did a few interviews that now had not only questions about his feelings if he wins or Elvis, but who you were and if you were his girlfriend. He couldn't help but blush and you caught him a few times and the whole thing just had you confused. He friend zoned you this whole time and now he suddenly acting like the two of you were together. But you kept those thoughts to yourself. This night was about him and as you took your seats beside Baz, Priscilla, Lisa Marie and Jerry; you beamed happily never imaging being at something like this in person. As the night went on Austin was holding your hand most of the night under the table and you could feel him trembling he was nervous. You looked over at him with a smile and you leaned over towards him. "I just know you're going to win.." you whispered. He smiled at your words and leaned over to kiss your cheek. "Thank you.. We'll see." he mumbled. You tried your best to hide your face because you were blushing so hard from his kiss. Why he is doing this to me.. He doesn't even like me like that..

You quickly snapped out of your thoughts when the award for 'Best Actor' was being presented and he began to squeeze your hand so tight now and you did your best to soothe him as they ran down the list of names and you smiled so big when they listed him. The two of you so nervous and you weren't even the one nominated as they went to open the envelope and you heard the words, "Austin Butler" utter from their lips and you nearly squealed from excitement and he was in complete shock as he hopped out of his seat, his hand slipping from yours and you stood up with the rest of your table and right before he went to walk to the stage he leaned over toward you and planted a kiss to your lips purely out of sheer impulse and excitement that he didn't even realize what he had done as he went running up to the stage after. You were now the one frozen touching your lips with your fingertips gently thinking you were in a dream.. A dream where Austin just kissed you. You slowly sat back down in your seat in a complete daze unable to stop touching your lips as you watched him up on that stage accepting the award he and Elvis rightfully deserve. You left your daze for a moment just to hear his adorable and beautiful speech that almost had you close to tears as you clapped happily for him. Once he got backstage he finally realize what he did before he went to accept his award and now he felt so stupid for doing that only furthering whatever awkwardness had faded throughout the night.

Once he returned to the table you gave him the biggest hug, but neither you or him spoke of what happened and continued on with the night as usual. The night was finally winding down and the ceremony was coming to a close and the two of you made your way back to the suv that had taken you here earlier and Austin clutched his Golden Globe in his hand as he slipped the other around you. You smiled proudly as the two of you got into the car. "I knew it. I knew you'd win!" you said happily. "Thank you, Y/N. Seriously, thank you for coming with me tonight. I needed it." he smiled. "Of course. You know I'm always here for you and here to support you." you said softly. "I know.." he mumbled, patting your hand gently. The ride back to his place was a quiet one. The both of you with some much on your mind about one another and so confused. You knew how you felt about him, but you were unsure now of how he felt about you. He too was unsure because he had suppressed these feelings for so long because he assumed you weren't interested in him. But now he was getting the feeling that he was completely wrong. But he didn't want you to feel like seeing you naked earlier is the reason he likes you. It certainly was not. That was just an added bonus for him.

You got back to his place and once you got out front you ripped the heels off your feet and letting out a exhaled. "Finally." you laughed. He chuckled softly as he reached over for your hand and lead the two of you back inside. Once inside of his house things seemed more awkward now that it was just the two of you alone. You fumbled with your hands nervously as you stared at him and he stared at you, setting down his award as he moved closer to you. You swallowed harshly as he moved toward you until he towered over you. "We should probably talk about the uh.." you interrupted him. "The kiss.." you mumbled. "Yeah... That.." he uttered as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Aus, listen.. I'm going to say something because I need to get it off my chest." you said softly. "O-Okay.." he mumbled. You took a deep breath and nodded slowly. "I've had a crush on you for a very long time. But it seemed like you never felt the same and you kinda friend zoned me.. Which crushed me a bit. But it never stopped how I felt about you. Now tonight.. I don't know.. You confused me.. Do you like me? Or is it because you saw me naked and you're doing all this to try to sleep with me?" you said hesitantly.

His eyes widen for a moment when he heard you had feelings for him but then immediately furrowed his brow at the last thing you said. "Y/N, do you truly believe I would use you in that way just to get in your pants?" he questioned. You shrugged. "I don't know.. It's just all sudden that you're acting this way." you whispered. "Can I get something off my chest now?" he chimed. You nodded slowly. "The first time we met I had a crush on you, but you didn't seem that interested in me and obviously I know I was so wrong now. I don't know why I couldn't see it. I'll be honest seeing you naked did bring all those feelings back. But I would never use you, flirt with you the way I did tonight and play with your feelings just to sleep with you. I kissed you because I like you.. I've always liked you." he confessed. You tried to hide your smile and you let out a relieved sigh and you knew in the back of your mind that Austin would never do something so cruel like that. But you needed to hear him say it.

You tried to hide your smile as you stared up at him and you moved yourself close to him until your body was up against his. He brought his hands up to brush them over your arms slowly and that brought a shiver down your spine and the two of you just stared silently at one another. You didn't know what to say or that words even needed to be said as your faces moved closer. Your heart racing as your lips met for the second time tonight and he slipped his arms around your waist and you wrapped yours around his broad shoulders, kissing each other deeply. You felt his hands moving up and down the silk of your dress and squeezing at every curve of your body. His hands slipping back around your arms and sliding them up to your shoulders, hooking his fingers beneath the small straps of your dress and tugging them down your shoulders slowly. "Did I mention how perfect you look in this dress?" he mumbled on your lips. "Mm.. I think you may have let it slip earlier..." you hummed. He grinned on your lips stealing another kiss and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth. "So you did hear that.." he chuckled.

"Mhm.. Also know you've been dying to see what's underneath this dress again.." you smirked. You pulled away from him and tugged your arms out of the delicate straps and you shimmered out of the tight little number and his eyes widen with a smile. "You weren't wearing any panties this whole damn time??" he said practically foaming at the mouth from the very sight of you. "Nope.." you giggled. All of a sudden he grabbed you by your waist and threw your naked body over his shoulder and you squealed softly, playfully hitting him. "Austin!" you exclaimed as you squirmed. He grinned as he tried to keep you still as he dragged you to his bedroom, giving your bare ass a hard slap which caused another squeal to escape you and he threw you onto his bed and you giggled softly as you rolled over onto your stomach and swinging your legs in the air back and forth as you stared up at him. "Come here.." you whispered, reaching over to grab him by his belt and tugging him forward. He licked over his lips as he stared down at you. "I wanna reward you.." you cooed.

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Oh? For what?" he teased. "For winning tonight and for being honest with me.." you smiled and now both hands were holding onto his belt and then you ran your fingers slowly across the hard leather before you began to unbuckle it and undoing his pants. You bit down on your bottom lip so giggly and blushing a bit as you tugged his pants down along with his underwear and he already had a semi when his cock had sprang out right in your face. You blushed so hard staring head on at his cock and licking over your lips as he stepped out of his pants and underwear, kicking them to the side. You wrapped your right hand around his cock as he slowly began to slip off his tuxedo jacket and undo his bowtie and unbuttoning his shirt watching you as began to stroke his cock slowly and he choked back a groan. You watched his cock grew to it's full size in your hand and you leaned forward pressing your soft lips against his swollen leaking tip and coating your lips with his precum until your lips were glossy from it and you licked the taste of him right off your lips.

He watched in amazement and his eyes slightly rolled back. "Damn.." he mewled. You smirked and pressed a soft loving kiss to his leaky tip and then slowly parted your lips and took him into your watering mouth, sucking just on the tip for a moment and making soft suckling sounds just to tease him, your legs still swinging back and forth happily. He placed his hands on your shoulders as he let out a soft exhale from the feeling of your mouth around him and now his groans escaped him as much as he tried to fight them back. You placed your hand at the base of his cock as you slid more of him into your mouth and began to suck at a steady and slow pace, bobbing your head on him as your innocent doe eyes stared up at him. "Oh fuck." he moaned, squeezing tight at your shoulders. You loved the sound of his moans and decided to drive him a little wild and you placed your hands on his thighs and pushed your face down further against his pelvis and swallowing his cock down your throat, gagging and choking around him quietly, as you reach one of your hands down to squeeze and grope at his balls that hit up against your chin as your other hand squeezed hard at his thigh. "H-Holy shit.. Y/N..." he whimpered as he stared at you having a mouth full of him.

You slowly pulled your head back and his cock popping out of your mouth with strings of your saliva stuck to it and dripping down your chin, giggling to yourself. "D-Do it again.. Please baby..." he begged as he hands rested on the back of your head. You nodded at his begging and happily wrapped your mouth back around him and swallowed his cock down once again and playing with his balls and now you felt his hands tightening around your head and forcing you to keep him down your throat a bit longer, your gags becoming louder around him and your eyes welling up with tears as you tried to keep staring up at him, swinging your legs faster. Globs of your saliva gathering around your mouth and dripping down his cock, your chin and onto his floor as you whimpered and moaned around him. "Ah.. Oh my god... Your throat feels so damn good.. I wanna cum down it. But not yet.." he moaned as he tugged at your hair and pulled his cock out of your mouth and you gasped softly and letting out a quiet cough as your saliva poured out of you and making a mess and that wasn't the only mess, your pussy was completely soaked from how turned on you were.

He smirked and leaned down taking your messy face into his hands and kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue into your mouth and you whimpered into his mouth kissing him back and then he pulled away. You ran your hand up and down his thigh gently before you got up and laid on your back and turned so that your head was facing the other side of the bed and slowly parting your legs before him as he continued to stand above you, he grinned and grabbed a hold of your thighs and roughly pulling you toward him. You squealed softly as you cupped your breasts in your hands and squeezing at them gently as you watched him move between your legs and wrapping them around his waist as he lifted your hips just slightly off the bed and he licked his lips at the sight of your soppy pussy that ached something fierce for him and only him. He grabbed a hold of his saliva covered cock and he ran his tip right between your soft wet folds and teased your clit with the head of his cock and you let out a soft cute moan. "Oh god.. So fucking wet.. I've been thinking about this pussy all night since I seen it." he chuckled. You giggled at his words and shook your head. "Well are you gonna get keep staring at it or fuck it?" you teased.

"So needy for me, huh?" he hummed. "Mhm.. You've no idea how much I've wanted this.." you cooed. His expression was warm and happy as he slide his cock up and down your slit one more time and emitting a low groan before he teased your tight entrance with his cock and then plunging himself deep inside of you, grabbing ahold of your hips as he moaned shakily. "Goddamn.. So fucking tight.. " he moaned out loudly. You moaned and whimpered loudly as you tilted your head back against the mattress feeling his cock stretching you and forcing you to adjust to his size as he slammed his hips into yours until you could feel his balls slapping against you as he began to thrust into you so rough and hard causing your body to jolt and move up and down against his bed, you clutched onto his bed sheets. "Fuck.. Austin.. Oh.." you nearly screamed. As he plowed deep inside of you he watched your gorgeous breasts bounce with his every movement.

The sounds of his balls slapping against you growing louder with each forceful thrust of his as he was slamming against your cervix and his hands dug into your hips as he grasped them tighter, his moans loud and long as his breathing grew heavier. You moaned his name repeatedly the words leaving your pretty little mouth like honey as he had your body moving so hard against his bed that he nearly had the bed moving beneath. You weren't expecting him to be so rough the first time you had sex together but his sexual desire for you had been so built up just like yours that he couldn't help but lose control. Your chest heaving as you moans and words came out almost inaudible from how crazy he was driving you into pure bliss. "A-Austin.. You're gonna me fucking cum!" you screamed between your moans. He smirked at your words and he grabbed your legs closing them around his cock as he held them against his chest and he plowed deeper, harder and faster and you cried out his name, literal tears leaving your eyes. He kissed lightly over your feet as he watched you convulse against his bed and feeling your body shaking against him.

Your orgasm was building so quick that you could feel the pain within your belly as it rose so fast to the surface and when he slammed against you one more time your orgasm came out loudly in droves as your body grew numb and your toes curled against his chest and your head buried against his bed as your cum made a complete mess on his cock and leaked out of you. He groaned louder than he had before. "Fuck!" he barked as he pulled his cock out of you his orgasm seconds away from hitting. "Get up and let me have that throat of yours again, baby." he growled. Your body felt so numb and wobbly but you managed to get back in position again and laying on your stomach and switching back over to the side he was standing at and opening your mouth for him and he shoved his cock into your mouth and forced you to swallow his cock down, tasting your sweet nectar on his cock and he whimpered so loud between his moan. "G-Good.. Girl.." he said between heavy breaths as his orgasm hit the moment you throated him and he emptied his balls in your mouth and you felt the thick warm liquid slide down your throat forcing you to swallow it all.

He slowly pulled his cock out of your mouth completely out of breath and you licked the rest of the cum that leaked out of him and then he moved to collapse on the bed right beside you. "Holy fuck.. You're amazing.." he chuckled tiredly. You smirked and got up to lay on top of him, brushing your fingertips against his chest and he leaned up to devour your lips in messy kiss. "It was worth the wait.." you hummed on his lips. "Certainly was.." he cooed. "So, uh.. Does this mean you'll be my girlfriend?" he asked shyly. You giggled softly as you continued to caress your fingers against his chest. "Well, since everyone in Hollywood is already whispering that I am.. I guess I will." you teased, pecking his lips. "Of course I will, it's all I've wanted.." you whispered. He pulled you into his tight embrace vowing to never let you go.

**

AHHH, I GOT SO CARRIED AWAY WITH THIS. Lmaooo, enjoy!

@purejasmine

#austin butler #austin x reader #Austin x y/n #Austin x you #Austin smut #Austin fluff #austin imagine #golden globes

[obsessedvibee]

Patient Love - Part 2

Missed part 1? Read it HERE!

Pairing: Austin x Evelyn (reader)

Words: 3.8k

Summary: Austin teaches Evelyn how to give a good handy and blowie.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, fingering, slight breast play, handjob, blowjob. MDNI, 18+

🌹❤️‍🔥💍🌶️

Her emotions spilled over in a fit of giggles as Austin’s eyes searched her curiously, her laughter becoming contagious.

“What’s so funny?”

She shook her head, falling back onto the bed.

He laid himself next to her, propping his head up with his arm, watching her with adoring eyes. This pure young woman, now his wife, lay bare and vulnerable in his bed. She gave her everything to him, placed her life in his hands and he’d never felt more terrified. He wanted to give her the stars, lasso the moon, travel the seven seas, climb the highest mountain. Anything. He’d do anything to keep that twinkle in her eye. Reaching for her small hand in the process, he pulled it up to his mouth to nibble playfully at her fingertips. “You did so good,” he praised, his words thick with desire.

“Aus,” she giggled, gently attempting to pull her hand back, “you’re still on my fingers,” the sentence died on her tongue, her mouth slightly agape as she watched him clean her fingers of his remnants. One by one he pulled them into his mouth, the wet muscle of his tongue curling around each one. Something deep inside her stirred at the sight.

Before she could think she went in, attacking his mouth with hers, earning a small grunt of surprise from him. Her tongue made its way into his mouth, immediately tasting his salty release. His hand splayed on the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. Sliding his hand over her hip, he grazed his fingers where her thighs were pressed together, encouraging her to lift her outside leg. She pulled away for a breath, “wait, I should probably pee real quick.”

He pulled himself away letting her up, his eyes watching her as she walked to the bathroom.

“You know, it’s not polite to stare at a lady,” she chided knowingly.

“‘s a good thing you’re my wife then.”

A warmth spread in her chest.

The door shut with a click.

He ran a hand over his face, his mind fuzzy with a new wave of arousal. Reaching for a tissue he cleaned himself off as best he could before getting up to straighten out the bed a bit. He wasn’t exactly a bed maker in his own apartment, but things are a bit different when your new wife is in the other room.

The sound of the shower starting caught his ears and a smile tugs at his mouth, noticing she cracked the door open. He walked cautiously into the doorway. His eyes were met with her backside to him as she reached into the shower testing the water. She turned to him as she stepped in, “you comin’?”

He stepped in behind her quickly pulling her body flush to his, pulling a small gasp from her.

He chuckled, quickly kissing her again as the water began to soak them. Reaching for the body wash off the shelf he tipped the bottle upside down drizzling the soap in his palm. Goosebumps formed over her skin in anticipation of his hands running across her body. He started at her shoulders, kneading gently, coaxing a sigh from her. He tried to not make it too obvious how much he was enjoying feeling every inch of skin beneath his fingertips.

She wasn’t fooled, nor bothered by the attention. Working a lather onto her breasts, and tweaking her nipples along the way only stirred up the burning coals of her desire for her husband once more. Moving his way down he lathered the rest of her up, leaving between her thighs for last.

“How you doin’?” He rasped, gently tilting her face up to him, the spray quickly rinsing the suds from her smaller frame.

Her green eyes sparkled at him under the bathroom light, her wet hair laying heavy on her shoulders, “so good, Aus.”

She closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in her own. Her hands began their own journey, gripping his biceps, his broad shoulders, his chest, working her way down feeling the toned muscles of his abdomen and the hair sprinkled beneath his bellybutton. She took pity on his soft cock, leaving him alone to recover.

His hands continued to creep closer to the junction between her thighs, her anticipation growing with every pass.

Craving the pressure of his hand between her thighs, she couldn't help but instinctively widen her stance. He noticed the small movement, a proud little grin spreading across his features. “You wanna go again, don’t ya?”

She could feel a pulse deep within her core, her body desperately wanting to reach that high with him again. “Yes,” she whispered.

“You don’t want me to help you, do ya?” He retracted his hand teasingly.

She shot him a glare and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing.

He turned them so his back was taking the brunt of the water. His hands tracing the curve of her waist into the globes of her behind, giving a light slap.

“Austin,” she whined, pushing into him.

“I’m coming baby, I’m coming.”

Reaching his right hand around to her front, he slipped between her thighs, carefully covering her mound, feeling her soft lips with his fingertips, his palm pressing deliciously against her clit. Dipping his finger between her warm folds, he collected her arousal, before pulling back to settle on her clit. As he gently began to play, his own cock started to flag interest.

His arm continued to work, eagerly awaiting those soft little moans he heard from her just minutes earlier when they were tangled together in the sheets.

Her hand gently covered his, pausing his movements to shift her weight, lifting her foot up onto the shelf causing a shampoo bottle to clatter to the floor. Her focus unwavering, quickly guiding Austin's fingers back into her.

And finally like a damn had broken, a quiet sigh of relief left her lips and she leaned her head back onto his sturdy chest, her hand slipping away, letting him take the reins. Feeling his length nudging her butt, she snuck her hand behind her, reaching for him. Her fingertips grazed his length before she curled her fingers around the firm shaft, earning a growl of appreciation from his chest.

His strokes on her clit stuttered when she swiped her thumb over his tip, the base of his shaft tingling. He nipped at her shoulder involuntarily needing to get out the sudden tension in his jaw.

Pulling himself together with an inhale through his teeth, his tongue swiped over the area, his hand quickly resuming its assault. His other hand came around kneading her breast. She tried keeping up with him, her hand giving small strokes to his poor throbbing length, but her attention was being pulled elsewhere, leaving his length to fend for itself.

“C’mon baby,” he coaxed her, his hand grazing her throat, grasping her chin, his thumb tugging her bottom lip from her teeth, “let it all out.”

He deliberately looked down into her eyes as he pushed a finger deep into her warm entrance making her jaw go slack with a gasp, her brow furrowing, a brief moment of anxiety covering her features expecting pain again, but that was quickly proving to be a thing of the past.

“That’s it,” he pushed into her again, gently working a second finger inside, her cries getting louder as she slowly climbed closer to the top.

Her fingernails dug into his arm as she gripped him for dear life. She involuntarily pushed into him, using her propped foot for leverage causing him to stumble back a step.

“Shit,” he chuckled.

He narrowed in focusing on rubbing at the front of her walls, desperate to feel her come around him. “You’re almost there baby girl, I can feel it,” he huffed, feeling his forearm beginning to burn. The squelching of his hand thrusting into her was sending her into her undoing.

“Austin,” she groaned, her eyes falling closed.

“Nuh uh,” he tutted, “look at me.”

Her glossy eyes looked back up at him, and he almost pathetically spurted at the sight of her. “Can you hold on a little longer for me?” He’s sure those words came straight from his dick, and maybe revealing a bit of a sadistic side, wanting to see her struggle.

He glanced down at his cock feeling a particularly strong throb at this realization. It twitched, jumping in envy of his hand, a clear string of precome leaking from the slit. God, he was an absolute mess. He was quickly brought back to more important matters when she suddenly clamped down onto his fingers, squeezing him.

“I can’t,” she moaned, unable to stop her own hand from reaching down to help ride herself through by working her clit. Her eyes rolled back as the first wave washed through her, her fingers giving the last push. Her eyes fell shut again as all conscious motor skills left her body and her instincts took over. Her hand worked vigorously, catapulting through her orgasm before she went limp, breathing heavily.

“Atta girl,” he pulled his fingers from her gently, making her twitch.

She plopped her foot down as he grasped her shoulders, steadying her on her wobbly legs.

A bit of smug pride filled his chest seeing her wobble. He was fulfilling his husbandly duties.

Reaching out with her hand she steadied herself with the railing along the shower wall, turning towards him. And what a sight he was, running a hand through his wet hair as if he was in the middle of a damn photoshoot. The water cascaded over his shoulders, running down his front, his nipples pebbled on his chest. Following downward, she couldn’t ignore his excited little friend, standing tall, a few veins littering the shaft. It gave a subtle twitch as if acknowledging the attention from her. Her tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip before bringing her eyes back up to Austin's, grazing her teeth along her lip.

His eyes were glazed over, lust and pride burning bright behind his pupils. She stepped closer reaching for his cock, grasping him lightly earning a sharp inhale at the contact. Her hand gave him a little stroke as she nibbled up his jaw to his ear, “lets dry off.”

She pulled back, releasing him from her hand, giving him a kiss as an apology and a thank you.

Shutting the water off and pushing the curtain back, they both fumbled their way out, Austin hands refusing to leave her skin. Her girlish giggles were music to his ears. Breaking away long enough to reach for a towel, they both managed to dry off a bit before she pulled away and began folding the towel. “Babe, that’s just going in the wash, what’re ya folding it for?”

“You’ll see,” she grinned, squatting down to place the neatly folded material at his feet.

He stepped back hesitantly, before the realization hit him like a freight train seeing her drop to her knees, looking expectantly up at him. His eyes widened, huffing a nervous laugh. She was truly out to kill him tonight. He stepped back closer to her, running his fingers through her hair. A warmth bloomed in his chest. “You really are making me the luckiest man alive right now, you know that?”

She flushed lightly at the compliment, bringing her eyes to face the new task ahead. He had waned a bit from the cooler air outside the shower, so his size didn’t frighten her. Not yet anyway. But putting him inside her mouth suddenly seemed a bit daunting. How did this task seem so much easier in her head earlier? Does she just go in mouth wide open? That seemed a bit aggressive for the first time. And it was all so new, what if she couldn't get him off? Nothing more humiliating than his new wife not being able to get him off. She didn't want to disappoint him. God, she was taking too long now, she should just go for it. What if she just-

“Hey,” he pulled her from her thoughts, the look of uncertainty clear on her face. He crouched down to her level, ignoring his softening cock. He didn’t care how horny he was, or how hot the sight of her on her knees looked. Her needs came first.

He placed a curled finger under her jaw making her look at him. “If we try everything tonight, what fun does that leave for the rest of our honeymoon?”

She broke his gaze, looking even more defeated, his words quickly deflected from her own feeling of letting him down. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what got into me, I just really wanted to please you, but then-” she hesitated.

He remained quiet, gently removing his finger from her jaw, letting her get her words out, his heart thumping in his chest.

“-but then it just hit me that I don’t know exactly what I’m doing and it was just right there in front of me,” she gestured to between his legs huffing a nervous laugh. She looked back up at him, “I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Evelyn, you could never disappoint me. How are you supposed to know what I like or what to do if I’ve never told you?”

She sighed, “I know.”

He stood back up, holding his hands out to her, helping her up. “C’mere.” pulling her into his chest in a hug, he rubbed her shoulder with his hand, comforting her. “You did far more than enough for me tonight.”

He felt her inhale deeply, the swell of her breasts pressing firmly against his chest with her breath. He willed his dick to not get any ideas. Lord help him.

She tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably.

“Let’s go to bed baby.”

She didn’t protest, the long events of today were finally starting to catch up with her. She didn’t exactly like leaving things on this note, but there was always tomorrow.

They both made their way back into the bedroom, reaching for some clothes.

She pulled open her underwear drawer, her fingers brushing the fabrics of a few before settling on a pair of black lace panties and an oversized tee.

A low whistle came from the other side of the room, making her roll her eyes.

Noticing he only had a new pair of briefs on, made her feel confident in her lack of shorts. They were married, having the whole house to themselves. They could run through the whole house naked for all they cared.

They both climbed into bed, their legs slotting together, her head on his chest, listening to the strong beat of his heart before slipping into a sweet sleep.

******

She woke before him, carefully pulling herself out of their warm cocoon being careful to not wake him. She padded to the bathroom, freshening herself up before heading to the kitchen. She pulled out a few ingredients whipping together a little breakfast she knew he liked.

She began humming a tune that was stuck in her head, -probably one of the songs that played last night- as the eggs sizzled in the pan. She flipped them and quickly threw some bread slices in the toaster. The aroma of coffee filled her nose as it brewed.

A creak down the hall signaled that Austin was awake, and her heart quickened in anticipation.

“Good morning, baby.”

Goosebumps covered her skin as she felt his breath on her neck, his fingers grazing over the exposed skin on her ass before resting on her hips.

“Mornin,” she replied with a small giggle, turning to greet him with a kiss.

He hovered around the counter as she did the last touches to get breakfast finished, placing a plate in front of him at the breakfast bar. She stood across from him on the opposite side of the counter leaning on her elbows dipping into the fruit bowl she cut up.

“How’d you sleep?” He asked between mouthfuls.

“On and off,” she admitted, chewing a piece of pineapple slowly, the juice flooding her tastebuds. She was never any good at sleeping in a new bed, and after such an event filled day. Her mind was just starting to slow its spinning.

He nodded, soaking up the last of his egg yolk with his toast, “that was a lot to take in yesterday.”

She picked up his plate, washing it in the sink, her mind beginning to wander. She knew it was silly but she couldn’t stop thinking about last night. She felt so confident but then couldn’t follow through.

He quietly helped her, ending the task with a quick little snap of the towel at her behind. A small shriek escaped her lips quickly spinning to face him with a mock expression of horror. He grinned quickly scooping her up, her legs instinctively spreading as he carried her to the living room, sitting with her straddling his lap. He brushed some hair away from her face, studying her features. “Is it bad that I want you again already?” His hands traced the curve in her waist.

She blushed, shaking her head, biting her bottom lip.

“Good, cuz I wanna see those pretty tits of yours again.” His hands already began tugging her t-shirt over her head.

She laughed playfully, keeping her arms stiff, making him work a little.

“Don’t make me tickle you,” he threatened.

She grinned slyly, but quickly broke her demeanor when his fingers brushed her tummy, giving a little squeeze. “Okay, okay!” She shrieked, lifting her arms.

Making quick work of pulling the shirt over her head and tossing it elsewhere, he hummed in delight at the sight of her perky breasts. A small sliver of his younger self came through, suddenly reaching up to push them together creating an absurd amount of cleavage before letting them fall back into place watching them jiggle causing a small chuckle to rumble in his chest.

“Don’t laugh at me!” She quickly covered herself with her hands.

He quickly looked back up into her eyes, “babe, no- they’re cute, don’t cover up.” He gently pried her hands away, leaning up to distract her with a kiss.

“Be nice to them,” she mumbled into his mouth, his tongue quickly dominating.

She let him play to his heart's content, quickly noting Austin was definitely a boob guy. Not that this was of any surprise; she caught him eyeing her chest up on multiple occasions.

Soon enough all the clothing was shed aside from her panties. His fingers gently feeling her through the fabric.

“Aus?”

“Hmm?”

She continued rocking her hips, her hair making a curtain around her as she watched the tendons in his wrist flex as he teased her. “Can you teach me what you like?”

He paused, glancing up at her, her head lifting, her eyes searching his.

“Yea- yeah,” he stuttered, his heart skipping a beat, “sure. What were you- you mean what you wanted to do last night?”

Pushing herself back up she maneuvered herself to kneel between his legs, looking back up, “yeah.”

He swallowed thickly, “yeah, okay-, um,” he ran a hand through his hair, “let’s start with your hand, yeah?”

She brought her hand up to rest on his thigh, his own immediately reaching out to guide her to his shaft. The feel of her cool fingers touching his heated skin almost made him moan out loud. He encouraged her hand with his, slowly beginning with small strokes.

“Theres not a whole lot to it,” he started, frantically searching his blood deprived brain for the right words. “Just start with stroking for now,” he slowly let her go. “Play with the tightness of your fist, don't be afraid to squeeze a bit.”

She listened intently, lightly squeezing on her up strokes, loosening on the way down, watching the skin move over his shaft with her hand. She brought her thumb out to trace a throbbing vein.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathed, “you’re doing perfect.”

Her confidence grew with every small noise she earned from him. She quite literally had him in the palm of her hand. His manhood trusted in her fist.

His balls hung below his shaft, tempting her other hand to come out and play. Staying focused on stroking him, she gently caressed the heavy sacs, lightly rolling and squeezing.

He cursed, thrusting his hand into the pillow next to him, gripping it for dear life, trying to keep himself tame, “I think you know what to do, baby.”

She did, and she finally got out of her own head. She paused her strokes, leaning forward to open her mouth, carefully licking a stripe from the base to his tip. The sound he emitted, made her core twist with desire.

Testing the waters she held his cock up with her hand, mouthing her way up to his tip before holding her tongue out flat, tapping him onto her waiting tongue.

“Babe,” he groaned.

And then he said a word that caused a tingle to run down her spine.

“Please.”

She finally took him into her mouth, her tongue doing its best to swirl around his length.

A growl came from above her, making her core clench around nothing.

She tried moving a bit, but couldn't quite get a rhythm going, so she opted for stroking while working his tip with her mouth. Whatever she was doing was working for him. His fingers were tangled in her hair, and he gently guided her with his hand. She could feel his panting breaths on her scalp. Her tongue made contact at the little spot where his shaft met his tip at the back and he actually whimpered; a strong throb followed.

“Do that again,” he whined, another moan leaving his lips.

She quickly began flicking her tongue over his little sweet spot and, between the stroking of his hand and fondling his balls, she felt him begin to harden further.

“Ev, watch out- I’m gonna-” he grunted, “I’m gonna cum.”

She popped off him, his hand coming to guide hers to quicken her strokes.

“Tighten your grip.”

She did as she was told, her eyes flicking from his scrunched face, to his shaft awaiting the spill. And a moment later she was awarded. His cock began spurting thick white ropes of his seed, with deep grunts rumbling from his chest with every pulse. Not three, not four, but five good spurts erupted before he began to slow, the warm liquid making its way down their fingers

His hand loosened on hers, their strokes slowing before he pulled her hand off of him, flopping back into the couch.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, picking up his head to look her in the eyes. “We’ve got to do that again.”

I really do like writing for these two.. maybe there will be a part 3 one day? Let me know if y’all would like something like that.

Need more? Check out my other works! > masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader #austin smut #austin #austin x y/n

[octobers-snow]

So… we all collectively agree a shit ton of fanfics are gonna be written with this character right? I mean so far this man is screaming Breeding Kink.

#austin butler #dune 2 movie #austin x reader #austin x y/n #dune fandom #austin butler fandom #breeding bitch #yandere

[butler-trouble]

Room 23 (Pt. 3) // Austin!Elvis x Reader

part one  ♡   part two

Comment here to be added to the tag list

A/N: Since it has been so long since I’ve updated this story, I decided to make it extra long and spicy for you guys. I apologize for the late update, school and l life has kept me super busy I have a lot of ideas going for the future. As always, requests are open and welcome to suggestions!

Rating: 18+ only, minors dni

Warning(s): A bit lengthy, oral (f receiving), reader's first experience, a bit of swearing, slight word change from the original hayride scene 

Prompt: You're seeing your boyfriend Elvis' performance for the first time and you’re having a great time, until you see him practically touching noses with a girl in the audience. After the show, you confront Elvis about the interaction to which he reassures you, in more ways than one, that he’s all yours.

Word count: 3,446 words

Tag list: @otherbluefae @shynovelist @kaitaesupremacy

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•

You had been pumped all day in excitement to finally be able to see your boyfriend, and best friend, perform. Elvis had confided in you throughout your  years of friendship about his passions for music, making it more special that you finally get to see his dreams coming true. 

“You ready, darlin’?” Elvis called behind you, causing you to turn around to the dark-haired man in front of you. He was dressed in a loose pink suit with black accents and a black button up shirt tucked into the pants. Smudged eyeliner and mascara lined his eyes to add a perfectly rugged look, complimenting his slicked back hair. 

The sight of him alone caused your heart to begin rapidly beating, along with another heartbeat somewhere else. “U-Um, yeah, I’m ready,” You spoke once words circulated your brain once again, the stuttering caused a small smile to pull at his lips.

"You look..," You started, taking in his appearance, "hot." The word slipped out of your mouth before you could think, causing a small chuckle to bubble from his chest. "Not as hot as you, lil mama," He stepped closer, setting your petite hands into his before stealing a small kiss. He twirled you in a circle, your baby pink dress fanning out and causing you to erupt into giggles while stopping in front of his grinning face.

"Are you ready, my future superstar?" You asked in a half-joking manner, turning the attention back to him. You knew Elvis had so much talent that needed to be shared with the world, but also knew that he greatly doubted himself. Elvis was completely unaware of how talented he truly was.

"A man can only dream, baby," Elvis responded solely to the nickname, seemingly avoiding the question. His blue eyes staring himself down in a small mirror, face slowly dropping his cocky smile.

"You will do great things, Elvis. I believe that with my entire heart," You stepped closer towards him, slowly planting a hand onto his cheek. The touch caused his eyes to shift focus to you, uncertainty in his eyes. "You have an incredible voice and everyone needs to hear it. Don't get so in your head like I know you always do," You encouraged, his own hand cupping over your own as his eyes never left yours.

"Just be yourself, Elvis, and everything else will come naturally. You've got this baby. Now show all of them who Elvis Presley is," You finished before leaning up on your toes to kiss his cheek, taking his hand in your own before guiding him to the car.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Your seat was within the front row of chairs, side by side with the other men and women of the audience. Jimmie Rodgers Snow took the stage before Elvis, his country sound filling the room and inviting the audience to clap along. Before long, Jimmie's set had finished, leaving an empty stage and anticipation for the next act.

"He's a young singer from Memphis, Tennessee, with a record out at Sun label. It's alllll over the radio. Give him a warm Hayride welcome to Mr. Elvis Presley," 

This is it.

Elvis appeared from behind the curtain, taking his place on center stage as a man adjusted his microphone. As he put the guitar strap across his shoulder, your heart began to beat rapidly in anticipation for what was about to happen. 

The spotlight now shined on Elvis, focusing everyone’s attention onto him. After exchanging words with the host, Elvis took a wavering breath as his blue eyes scanned the audience. With the spotlight directly into his eyes it was difficult to make out faces, just the outline of many people sitting within the audience.

“It goes somethin’ like this,” He spoke into the mic, a bit of feedback screeched in response. Silence. 

Elvis began to sing the intro to Baby, Let’s Play House, taking a moment to observe the audience. “Get a haircut freak,” A man yells from the audience, earning a few laughs throughout the audience. You scoff and roll your eyes at the immaturity, looking around to see where the comment came from. 

As your eyes landed back onto Elvis, it was like a transformation within him. One second he is a shy, nervous boy and the second he begins to sing with the band, he becomes a confident man. As the song takes over him, Elvis’ legs began to wiggle to the beat. 

You’ve never seen anyone move like that before but seeing Elvis doing it brings a warm feeling throughout your body. Your eyes widened slightly, the sight of him wiggling his pelvis on stage had awakened feelings you ‘ve never felt and you’re not alone.

Just as the audience began to warm to Elvis’ performance, a small scream escaped a girl’s lips only a few seats from you. She covered her mouth as if the scream was beyond her control, awakening the same feelings that you were having. A small part of you was jealous that another girl felt that way about your boyfriend, but the other part of you understood. 

Almost like a chain reaction, girls across the audience began to scream almost out of their control. Elvis' wiggling had the same effect on these girls that he had on you and you weren't sure if you were prepared for that.

Within seconds, girls started to spring from their spots in the audience to be close to Elvis. High-pitched squeals filled the room alongside Elvis’ singing, leaving the men confused in their seats. You stand with the rest of the girls, trying your best to reach the front of the stage.

By the time you reached the front, your vison comes to focus on Elvis bent down towards a brunette girl. The closer he bent down, you noticed her leaning forward almost as if to kiss him. Heat flows through your body, a feeling you have never felt before. Jealousy? Everything else in the room becomes background noise, your eyes and mind only focused on the closeness between them. 

Their eyes connected as if Elvis put her in a trance, but once inches apart, Elvis breaks from her to rear back towards the stage. Your stomach twists thinking about what could have happened, causing your face to twinge slightly. Almost as if on cue, Elvis’ eyes happened to land on you. 

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

After the show, you found your way towards the dressing rooms where you knew they would soon arrive. While awaiting for Elvis, you spoke with Gladys and Vector about how fantastic the performance was. Despite feeling hurt, you did not want to ruin the moment for Elvis or his parents.

The boys appeared from behind the stage and towards the dressing room, Elvis’ sweat glistening under the light as they got closer. You leaned against the wall to patiently await your turn to speak to Elvis, with your arms crossed over your chest. Gladys was the first to swarm Elvis, "Oh Bewbie,” She cooed, embracing him tightly with murmured compliments. 

Once Elvis made his way through, he found his way to you. Arms crossed and leaned against the wall, you had a slight pout placed upon your lips. Elvis' head tilted slightly at your stance, "Hey Bug'," He said as he approached you.

Your face softened into a small smile as you straightened to hug him, his arms enveloping you into a warm embrace. "That was-" You began, scrambling to find the words, "You were amazing, E," You settled, your grip around him tightening for a moment before pulling away to see his face.

"Thanks, darlin'," He spoke, his bright blue eyes fixated on your own. His hands placed onto the sides of your waist, feeling him inch closer like a magnet. Just as his face reached inches from yours, the heat of his breath fanned your face and your mind flashes to the girl in the same position just a while ago. The thought of the brunette girl caused you to slowly pull away from his tempting kiss, clearing your throat and looking towards the ground.

His eyebrows furrowed together in slight confusion, eyes darting between yours as if trying to read you. Elvis wasn't entirely sure what was bothering you but he was determined to find out. "C'mon, let's step in the dressing room, hm?" He offered his hand for you, trying his best not to attract the attention of others. You look around the room at everyone before your eyes land back on Elvis, placing your much smaller hand in his with a small nod.

Guiding you into the dressing room, Elvis closed the door behind him with a lock. You had stepped over towards the vanity, standing near the chair awaiting for Elvis to speak.

The raven haired boy turned around to face you, stepping towards the vanity. "I tried to kiss you but you pulled away from me," He finally said, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he takes a seat beside you. You stayed silent for a moment as you collected your thoughts.

"Talk to me, darlin’, did I do somethin' wrong?" He asked, bringing his hand to your own before lacing your fingers together. You inhale sharply, eyes focused on your intertwined fingers as you began. "You almost kissed her," You let the words slip, the stress of the past few hours finally out in the open.

His eyes softened at your words and his eyebrows relaxed as the realization set in. "Is that what this is about?" He began in a soft tone as he stepped closer towards you, his face coming inches away from your own as he cupped your cheeks in his hands. Even in this moment, you could feel your heart beating in your throat yet you couldn't keep your eyes off him.

"Bug, you're my bestest girl. No other girl can compare," His voice gentle as he stroked your cheek with the pad of his thumb. You knew from the look in his eyes that he was being truthful, but you still weren't quite done. "You were this close to her face, Elvis," You pointed out, using your pointer and middle finger to measure the short distance apart. "How am I supposed to know that you weren't going to kiss her or that she wouldn't kiss you?" You ask, a hint of aggravation in your voice.

"Are you jealous?" He asked in a teasing voice, trying to lighten the mood which earned a playful scoff from you. "Whatever," You mumbled teasingly, crossing your arms across your chest once again as you tried to fight a smile from growing upon your lips.

A low chuckle grumbled in his chest, "Darlin’, now you know that I'd never lie to you. I've made that known since day one," He explained in his slow southern drawl, wrapping his fingers around your wrists gently in attempt to uncross your arms.

"I have worked for years to get to this point with you, Lil' Momma. All the late night phone calls, the awkward family dinners, sneakin’ in your window when you’re grounded, stayin' over past my curfew and gettin' in trouble with momma," He started to list off, guiding your arms to relax down to your sides.

"You're all I've been thinkin' about since the day I met you. Those beautiful y/e/c eyes, those full pouty lips, everything. You're always on my mind. There ain't no girl that drives me as crazy as you, Y/N. Not even that lil’ brunette," His hand moved up to brush some of your hair behind your ear, causing your cheeks to heat.

To break the growing tension, and the throbbing foreign sensation forming below, your eyes advert to the floor. "All that is stage performance and nothin’ more, baby. No matter what happens on that stage, I've always got you on my mind," He rested his hand on your chin, gently lifting your head to force eye contact once again.

His words were reassuring to you, allowing you to relax from the stressful feeling glooming over you from the past couple hours. And now that you’ve had time to calm down, you’ve started to focus more on Elvis and his after-performance appearance. The previously slicked back hair had now come slightly disheveled, allowing strands of black hair to fall onto his face, which still glistened with sweat. The eyeliner he had carefully placed around his eyes had now smudged down to create a rebellious look. 

"Show me" You challenged. 

Elvis' eyebrow raised slightly, wondering if he heard you right. His eyes traveled across your face for a moment in thought, "Hm," He hummed lowly, sending vibrations through his chest and a tingling sensation through your body. "Show you what, Momma?" His lips curled into a small smirk, making your stomach flip.

"Show me that you want me, El-" You began to repeat yourself until you were cut off by the feeling of his warm, soft lips eagerly pressing against yours. Instantly you move your lips in sync against his as your arms instinctively move to wrap around the back of his neck. 

His larger hands were placed upon your waist, holding you flush against him as he moved his lips expertly against your own. He gently glided his tongue across your bottom lip, walking you backwards until your back pressed against the vanity. He swiped everything off the surface before lifting you onto the vanity, stepping in between your legs. The swift motion caused a small gasp to escape your lips and break the kiss, giving Elvis the opportunity to pepper kisses along the corner of your mouth and down your jaw. 

The feeling of his lips against your bare skin sends electricity through your body, forcing you to lean your head back to give him more access. Elvis takes the opportunity to begin pressing kisses down your jaw and neck, “You’re so damn beautiful,” He grumbled lowly against your neck as he started to gently nip at your skin. An involuntary moan escaped your lips at the feeling, earning a small groan from Elvis in response. 

He trailed kisses back up towards your lips as his hands began toying with the fabric of your blouse, pulling away to breathe as he rest his forehead against yours. His dark, lustful eyes scanned your face with an expression you’ve never seen before. “I want to make you feel good, Y/N,” He started, his voice raspy and low. “You trust me, baby?” He asked as his eyes finally landed on yours, awaiting a response, and your heart began to pound hard in your chest. “I trust you, E,” Your voice just above a whisper as you maintained eye contact, anticipating his next move.

Without another word, Elvis began to slowly lift your blouse as he broke eye contact to focus on your newly exposed skin. He discarded your blouse onto the floor which left you in a black bra, shivers running down your spine from the exposure. He soaked in the view only moments before reattaching his lips to your skin, pressing kisses down along your collarbone. Elvis’ long slender fingers ran down the top of your back until reaching the clasps of your bra, unhooking each of the hooks slowly. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” He grumbled against your skin, his kisses trailing down your chest and towards the valley of your breasts. 

You arch your back in response to the feeling, leaning your head back against the mirror of the vanity. “Don’t stop,” You breathed out, feeling a wetness begin to pool in your panties. As soon as the last hook came undone, the straps of the bra pooled down your shoulders until Elvis pulled the bra off completely. Your cheeks began to heat again, suddenly aware of your bare breasts being exposed to Elvis for the first time. “So, so perfect,” He groaned, kissing down to one of your breasts and cupping the other into his hand. You gasped softly, letting out a moan once his lips wrapped around your tender nipple. “Mmm,” You hummed out in pleasure, tangling your fingers into his hair as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bud. 

You leaned your head back against the mirror and close your eyes, tugging gently on his hair to signal you wanted more. A small whine broke from your lips once he pulled away from your breast, finally giving attention to the other. The building throbbing sensation becoming too much, you lift your hips slightly off the edge of the vanity to push towards Elvis’ hips. A small hiss escapes his lips from the contacts before he gently gripped your hips to still them, “This is all about you, darling,” He said once he pulled away from your chest.

You tilted your head to watch as Elvis got down onto his knees in between your legs. He hungrily began to kiss below your breasts, trailing down your stomach and covering every inch of your skin. “Lift your hips for me,” He instructed in a gentle tone as he tapped your hips with his fingers. As instructed, you lift your hips up enough for Elvis to tug your skirt down your legs and onto the floor alongside your other clothes.

Now left only in your black panties, you anticipated his movements as he leaned his head between your legs. Your eyes now focused intently as he pressed gentle, wet kisses along your hips and inner thighs. He focused on pleasuring you in all the best ways, wanting your first experience to be unforgettable.  

“You’re sure you want this, momma?” He asked one last time as his fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties, awaiting a response before continuing. You looked down into his eyes, giving him a small nod, “I want you,” You responded eagerly. That response was all he needed to take your panties off and throwing it into the growing pile, causing you to close your legs from the exposure on your soaked core.

Elvis gently pulled your legs apart, resting his hands upon your outer thighs to hold you in place as he began to press sloppy kisses along your inner thighs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in anticipation, eyes fixated on his lips as they moved closer to where you need him most. His lust-filled orbs meet your own as he pressed the softest kiss to your core, causing you to let out a soft whine.

"Please,” You begged and that was all Elvis needed as he began to run his tongue up your entrance towards your sensitive button. A moan fell from your lips from the new sensation and your head pressed back against the mirror once more. Elvis' eyes were trained on your face as he continued to pleasure you, circling his tongue into a pattern against your sensitive aching clit.

Your moans intensified with his movements, leaning your head down to look him in the eye. The sight of him between your thighs will be something you remember for awhile. "O-Oh my-" You gasped out once Elvis began to suck gently, tangling your fingers into his hair once more. As he picked up pace, you couldn't help but to tug at his hair from the intense pleasure you were feeling. Elvis groaned against you, sending vibrations through your clit and causing you to lift your hips off the vanity once again.

"Elvis-" You breathed out between your pleasure-filled moans, feeling an unfamiliar pit building within your stomach. His eyes were pitch black, fixated on your pleasure as he continued to work his tongue. "Come, baby," He hummed against your core and you moan out, feeling the building pressure reaching it's peak. Within moments, the pressure releases into bliss and left your legs in a shaky mess. Elvis slowed his tongue, riding out your high until you were a mess beneath him.

"My bestest girl," He praised, pressing one kiss to your lower stomach before grabbing your clothes off the floor. "Did you enjoy yourself?" Elvis asked with a wink and your cheeks heated. You nod sheepishly as you scoot off the vanity and your feet plant to the floor. "That felt amazing," You admit in a soft voice, your cheeks beyond cherry red as he began to redress you.

"You deserve to feel good. What my girl wants, my girl gets. You need reassurance? Oh I'll reassure you, princess," He explained with a small smirk upright on his lips as he finished tucking your blouse back into your skirt, as it was prior. This man will be the death of me, you think.

#austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis smut #austin butler fanfic #austin elvis imagine #elvis fanfic #austin butler smut #elvis smut #austin x reader #elvis x reader #austin x y/n #elvis x y/n #elvis 2022

[justafangir1]

Can someone anyone please right an Austin fic. I’m getting desperate over here 🤍🤍

#austin butler #austin #austin elvis fandom #austin x y/n #austin x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x reader

[kpopnstarwars]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

#bald freak supremacy #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha smut #austin butler #austin butler smut #dune #dune two #dune part two #dune 2 #dune part 2 #dune ii #dune part ii #feyd smut #feyd rautha fic #feyd rautha fanfiction #feyd-rautha #dune fanfiction #dune smut #atreides #house harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha x you #dune x you #feyd oneshot #feyd x y/n #dune x y/n #feyd angst

[andy-15-07]

Soft Spot

masterlist ! pairing Feyd-Rautha x reader

SUMMARY : you're going to marry Feyd-Rautha, but you didn't know he has a soft spot for you

GENRE: fluff, loveeee

The grand halls of the Harkonnen fortress echoed with the clinking of armor and the whispers of political intrigue as you, unaware of Feyd-Rautha's hidden feelings, prepared for the arranged marriage. The alliance between your house and House Harkonnen was to be solidified through this union, a union that held more secrets than you could fathom.

As you adorned yourself in the intricate wedding attire, your mind buzzed with the weight of responsibility. The marriage was a strategic move, a chess piece in the game of power. Little did you know, Feyd-Rautha harbored a soft spot for you that went beyond the calculated alliance.

As you walked down the aisle towards the ceremonial chamber, Feyd-Rautha stood at the altar, a stoic figure in his Harkonnen regalia. His piercing blue eyes, however, betrayed a subtle warmth when they met yours.

The ceremony commenced, the officiant reciting the traditional vows that bound you to Feyd-Rautha. Yet, amidst the formality, a flicker of genuine emotion appeared in Feyd-Rautha's eyes as he spoke, "I pledge my loyalty to this union, and to you, Y/N, my chosen partner in this intricate dance of politics and power."

His words carried a sincerity that resonated within you, and a realization started to dawn. Perhaps there was more to this marriage than just political maneuvering. The enigmatic Feyd-Rautha seemed to be unveiling a side of himself that few had witnessed.

As the ceremony continued, you exchanged vows, committing to the union with a sense of duty. Unbeknownst to you, Feyd-Rautha's words held a depth that transcended the political façade. "I promise to stand by you, Y/N, not just as a husband but as someone who sees beyond the political tapestry. You are more than a strategic alliance; you are the missing piece in my life."

The celebration that followed was lavish, a feast befitting the union of two powerful houses. Amidst the revelry, Feyd-Rautha found a moment to steal you away to a quieter chamber. The tension in the air was palpable as he looked into your eyes, his usually composed demeanor revealing vulnerability.

"Y/N," he began, his voice softer than usual, "there's something I need you to know. This marriage, yes, it's a political move, but for me, it's more than that. I've developed a deep admiration for you, one that goes beyond the expectations of our houses."

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his confession. Feyd-Rautha, the formidable figure known for his ruthlessness, was baring his soul to you. "I never expected to find solace in this arrangement, but in you, I see more than just an alliance. I see a partner, someone I want to stand beside in the battles that lie ahead."

His vulnerability resonated with you, and a spark of understanding kindled. "Feyd-Rautha, I may have entered into this marriage out of duty, but your sincerity has not gone unnoticed. Perhaps there is a chance for us to find common ground beyond the political landscape."

The revelation marked a turning point in your relationship. The walls that had separated you from Feyd-Rautha started to crumble, revealing a shared vulnerability that formed the basis of a connection neither of you had anticipated.

As the night unfolded, you found yourselves navigating the intricacies of this newfound understanding. Feyd-Rautha, known for his calculated moves, was now making room for emotions he hadn't explored before. The marriage, initially a pact sealed by duty, started to evolve into something more complex, a tapestry woven with threads of unexpected emotions and genuine connection.

And so, in the grand halls of House Harkonnen, a marriage born out of political strategy took an unforeseen turn, guided by the unspoken soft spot that Feyd-Rautha harbored for you. The game of power, it seemed, had made room for the unpredictable dance of the heart.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #feyd oneshot #feyd x you #feyd x reader #dune x you #dune x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x you #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha imagines #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler imagines #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n

[youaintnothinbuta]

“Did you cum without me?” — feyd rautha x reader

Summary: Feyd Rautha, your husband, knows you very very well. He knows what your sex smells like, and he’s not pleased when he can sense it on you despite not having seen you at all that day. He reminds you that you aren’t to touch yourself, and that making you cum is his job

Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader

Word count: 1K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, mature language, unprotected sex, p in v, masturbation insinuated, squirting depicted, probably typos sorrryyyy

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Feyd stirred from slumber before you as always, a habitual gesture that allowed you the luxury of lingering in bed as long as you pleased. However, you didn’t see him at breakfast either, hinting at his preoccupation with Na-Baron duties.

All day you found yourself restless and bored, ennui gnawing at you, more than ever typical. You even spent almost two hours in the bath, just trying to make time pass. Spending hours and hours alone, your mind started to wander. Your hands followed suit. You found yourself lying in your’s and Feyd’s shared bed, writhing beneath your own touch. You laid on his side of the bed, his smell helping feed your fantasies as you succumbed to orgasm by your self indulgence. And, once not being enough, for a second time.

Only minutes later you peeled yourself up off the bed, washed your hands, and were once again making your way aimlessly through the Harkonnen residence. To your delight, you heard your husband’s voice resonating through a nearby hallway, and quickly made that your destination. He smiled as he saw you, reaching out for your hand briefly, to acknowledge that he hadn’t seen you all day. As you passed him, he turned his head, inhaling deeply. You continued walking, but he quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

He pulled you closer, his face just inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath against your skin as he sniffed your skin. Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes narrowing.

“Did you cum without me?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.

“No,” you lied, trying to pull away from his grasp. But he was too strong. A growl rumbled from deep within him, a reaction to your lie. He could smell you. Harkonnen men were surprisingly gentlemanly and yet so, so primal in nature. The scent of your orgasm on your skin was certainly not one unfamiliar to him.

“Then you won't be too sensitive to cum right now,” he growled, his hand already making its way between your thighs. The men he was talking to quickly took their cue to leave, leaving you alone in the hallway.

You tried to protest, but it was too late. He had already pushed your skirt up and was fingering you roughly. You could feel your clit swelling and becoming sensitive, but he didn't seem to care.

“Push through it,” he commanded, his voice laced with possessiveness, his fingers moving faster and faster. You did as you were told, biting your lip to keep from crying out. But it hurt, and you couldn't help but squirm under his touch.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

With his right hand still playing with your pussy, he used his left to flick his belt undone. One handedly, he freed his already hard cock from his pants, lining himself up at your entrance.

His arms snaked around your waist, holding your body flush against his as he slowly pressed himself inside of you. Your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of him finally filling you up, like that itch was finally being scratched. He gripped you by the jaw, pulling out of you softly before slamming back into you.

“I make you cum,” he growled, “Me. Not you.”

“Understand?” He barked, pounding another hard thrust into you.

“Y-yes.” You stuttered, watching as he clenched his jaw in pleasure.

“Say my name,” he demanded.

“Yes, Feyd. You make me cum. Only you.”

“Good, darling, good,” he purred, lightly circling your clit with his thumb as he continued to fuck you, there, standing in the corridor.

His grip on your jaw eased, you took the opportunity to press your lips to his, in a burning kiss. You descended into a mess of moans and whimpers as he softly pressed his tongue into your mouth. His hips started to lose rhythm, your noises helping draw him closer to orgasm. He focused his attention on his thumb, rubbing your clit with the perfect pressure and pattern he'd come to learn so well for you.

“That's it,” he whispered to you. “Come for me.” And you did. With a scream he loved so very much, a gush of liquid spilled out of you. Marvelling at the sight in front of him, he continued to work your clit, watching as your squirt continued to stream from between your legs, his pants and boots sprayed with it, a puddle around both of your feet. Never having felt an orgasm so strong, your body threatened to give out as you shook and moaned, letting the last lingering bits of your orgasm out.

His strong arms held you up, as he continued thrusting. You felt his cock twitching inside of you, and with a low, strung out grunt, he spilled his black seed into you, fucking it as far into your pussy as he could. You clenched your walls around him the way he liked, milking him for all he was worth.

He pressed his forehead to yours, catching his breath. “Mine, darling,” he mumbled, slowly pulling himself out of you.

“Yours, Feyd.” You whispered, also still panting. Feyd looked at you, his eyes filled with love and satisfaction, an expression he had reserved for you alone.

“It is my job to make you cum. You do not take that away from me, do you understand?” He reminded you.

“Yes.” You nodded as he cupped your face in his hands.

“Good,” he kissed your cheek, “look at the mess you've made.” Your eyes fell to the floor, you blushed as you noticed the puddle you stood in.

“Go, get dressed for supper.” Even when he spoke softly there was still that harsh rumble in his voice. You obliged, heading back to your chambers.

At the dinner table, you walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I love you,” you whispered in his ear, feeling his muscles flex in reaction to your voice.

He turned to face you, his eyes dark with desire. “I love you too,” he said, before standing up to pull your chair out for you to sit beside him.

A/N it’s currently 1am I got home from seeing dune part 2 about an hour ago but I absolutely couldn’t go to sleep without giving y’all something ;))

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd fanfiction #feyd oneshot #feyd x you #feyd imagine #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha #feydbaron #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x oc #reader x feyd #reader x feyd rautha #feydrautha #dune part two #dune part 2 #austin butler x you #austin butler #austin butler x yn #austin butler feyd rautha #austin butler smut #feydarling #you x feyd #you x feyd rautha #yn x feyd #feydrautha smut #dune smut #dune part 2 smut #austin butler x y/n

[precious-little-scoundrel]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ��em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fanfiction #gosh is that a first tag? i don’t think so I know I’ve seen schemes at the very least on here #mota fanfic #austin butler #gale cleven #john egan #Major Egan #Major Cleven #buck cleven #Gale Cleven fanfiction #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fluff #Austin Butler imagine #Austin butler smut #callum Turner fanfiction #callum turner #harry crosby #anthony boyle #hbo war #band of brothers #the pacific

[my-heart-beat-for-anime]

Feyd-rautha x Atreides reader headcanons pt.1

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

- you first met when you were both children

- your father carefully observed the young Harkonnen who approached his little girl

- to everyone's surprise, you hugged him tightly and presented him with a dagger scabbard that you had sewn yourself under your mother's guidance

- little Feyd looked uncertainly at his uncle, who pushed him closer to the girl with his meaty hand

- with a small blush he thrust into her hand a necklace with a black stone that had been roughly worked by the boy's hand

- the girl lit up and started showing the gift to her twin with enthusiasm

- after welcoming ceremony the atreides twins and Feyd set out to explore the beaches of Caladana in search of seashells

- in the heat of the game the little princess cut her knee on a pointed stone in the sand

- little Paul immediately ran back to the family mansion to tell his parents what happened and Feyd slowly carried you back on his back, all the while saying that you shouldn't cry like a little baby over a small scratch

- when House Harkonnen was leaving you waved sadly to the little boy you had grown so fond of and who had promised to come back for you

-the second time you saw each other was three days before your wedding, which took place on Geidi Prime

- when your family landed on the planet you were greeted by the sight of a man you didn't recognize, the only clue that it was Feyd was the scabbard you which you made for him and which he now has to strap on his hip

- Even Feyd-Rautha didn't recognize his bride instead of a smiling little girl he saw a confident woman who looked strikingly like the mermaids you told him about and again what gave you away was the necklace, he made for you, around your neck

- ahh how he wished instead of the necklace it was his hand holding onto your neck during the waves of pleasure he was going to cause you when you were his

- his gaze fixed on the man who was standing behind you, he didn't like how he whispered something in your ear, you giggled, he didn't like how close he was standing behind you

- as you walked up to him he gently kissed your hand but as soon as you were about to pull your hand back Feyd gripped it tightly and slowly licked your wrist while maintaining eye contact with you

- chtěl dát najevo, že jsi jeho od chvíle, kdy jsi nasadil ten náhrdelník

Pt.2???

#dune #dune part two #dune 2 #dunefanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha x you #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd rautha

part four of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 3.)

summary:

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

wc: 1.6k

tw: political machinations, reader being inches away from killing everyone in the damn place including feyd, kissing, biting, mentions of breeding, possessive & needy feyd, sub!feyd, oral (fem receiving), fingering, hallway sex.

you’re getting tired of dreams. 

there’s terrible, terrible purpose dripping from their edges. you see it all - snapshots of horror, fractals reflecting endless bodies dropping to the ground. sixty one billion people, dead. ten thousand worlds burning, the universe begging for respite under your brother’s crushing fist.

paul. little mouse, whom you’ve shielded all your life, whom you’ve sparred with, crysknife pressed against his throat, his shield a feeble protection against your blade. something shatters. blades. so many of them. your blade. jamis’ blade. feyd-rautha’s blade. 

your dream has you standing in what you know to be the emperor’s ship, shrouded in bene gesserit veils. two silhouettes stand against the bleeding sun of arrakis. 

the realisation embeds itself in your mind, marble-carved. fate is looking down upon you and tells you: one of them dies in the end.

when you wake up, there’s a scream dying on your tongue.

you don’t know where you are. you don’t know where you are, why your side is on fire, why you taste blood in your mouth.

slowly, you rise, heart beating furiously, breath laboured. i must not fear. your fingers dig your sheets. the infirmary. fear is the mind killer. you close your eyes, will yourself to breathe. fear is the little-death that brings total -

a hand settles over yours, bone pale fingers weaving with yours. warmth settles on your shoulder. you relax, ever so slightly, leaning into the touch, burying yourself in the crook of feyd-rautha’s neck. he’s all sharp edges, honed to deadly perfection. in the quiet midnight of geidi prime, he softens for you.

“what troubles you?”

you wonder if you should tell him. of the golden path, paved with blood, so much blood it clings to the soles of your feet, you see it rise, rise, eager to seize you-

a low mumble of your name.

“dreams are messages from the deep,” you whisper in the crook of his neck. 

his hold tightens over you, brings you closer to the warmth of him, thumb running over the smooth skin of your belly, over your unborn child growing there. from your position, you can feel it, the way his vocal cords vibrate. he’s purring, soothing you bit by bit.

you tilt your head, hand coming to cradle his face, knuckles brushing against his cheek.

“i should be plotting your death.”

a low chuckle, a flash of almost eagerness in his eyes.

“i don’t doubt you will.”

his hand wraps around your neck, resting on the soft skin of your throat, bringing you closer to him, shifting your bodies until you’re straddling him, arms wrapping around his neck. you could strangle him. you could use the voice. ask him to take the knife you know rests on the bedside and slit his own throat like the harkonnen beast he is. use it yourself.

but you’ve sealed your fate the moment you stepped on arrakis. so instead, you let the darkness swallow your confession.

“i don’t want you to die.”

“i won't,” he mumbles against your lips, words like an oath as he kisses you.

they say the beat of a butterfly wing can cause a tempest on the other side of the globe. you wonder what tempest will be borne out of the fury beating in your chest. here goes: morning comes. the spice rules it all, even the baron’s affairs, so he gathers his troops to make a planetary governor out of feyd-rautha. 

the glorious sun of geidi prime shines its lifeless light upon you all. 

the finest harkonnen soldiers, ruthless hounds barking their sovereign’s name in fervent adoration, thousands upon thousands of ants stretching as far as you can see. they corrupt it all the harkonnen, eating away at the horizon. waiting. 

you’re waiting, too, hands folded before you, lone silhouette clad in dark robes, veils like a mask before your face. bene gesserit, the court calls you. 

not quite.

by bearing feyd-rautha a child, you’ve gained a modicum of respite. the bene gesserit will spare you, the mother of their precious kwisatz haderach. they will keep your survival a secret and bury it behind inscrutable eyes.

plans within plans within plans. you’re a pawn in the baron’s meaty hands, he’s a pawn in yours, and the bene gesserit have been pulling the strings for ninety generations. 

your gaze flits to the scene before you. feyd-rautha harkonnen, clad in dark leathers, silver embroidery like pauldrons over his shoulders. the mass of his uncle hovers above him, a hovering beast eager for power. two meaty hands encompass his face - absolute disgust coils in your chest as you watch vladimir harkonnen kiss his nephew. he kisses back. a show of dominance.

the soldiers howl his name, earth trembling under the clamour. they salute, arms crossed over their heads, a living, breathing organism, synchronicity at its peak. 

arrakis has a new ruler. 

a hand clasps over your wrist, drags you away from the adoring masses, in the sweet darkness of the palace’s hallways. you’re pinned against the wall, and feyd-rautha looms before you, terrible hunger burning in his eyes. slowly, he lifts your veils, high enough to bare your mouth to him. 

“my lord-”

you’re cut off by his lips on yours, eager, desperate, savouring you like fine arrakean spice-wine. 

“i need you,” he rasps, etching a molten kiss on the dip of your collarbone. “need to get rid of his taste.”

his hand crawls up your thighs, the folds of your velvet dress gliding against your skin. you can still hear the soldiers outside, feel the low thrum of their clamour in your very bones. should you focus, you’ll perceive the baron’s suspensors sucking away at gravity, the servants’ roaming about, feet like neelde-ants on cold marble.

anyone could catch you.

“what are you waiting for, my lord na-baron?”

he nips at your ear, grin sharper than his blade as he sinks to his knees. slowly, intimately, a shadow curling at his mistress’ feet. he unravels you, nails raking up your thighs, liquid desire burning in their path. 

“eyes on me.”

your eyes snap open. oh, he’ll be the death of you, with the way his eyes freeze you in place, willing, begging for his touch. you shiver, a low, needy sound escaping you. 

he grins, a flash of black teeth against the liquid darkness of your robes. shadows will swallow you whole - he will swallow you whole. already is, with the way he trails kisses up your thighs, teeth sinking in the meat of it until blood drips on your skin. 

he’s lapping at it, hands wrapping around your leg, spreading you apart inch by precious inch until he fits the broad expanse of his shoulders in the space he’s carved for himself. he raises his head, leans his cheek against your thigh, nuzzling in its softness. there’s blood coating his lips, sweet like forbidden fruit, and an unquenchable fire in his eyes.

“exquisite,” he purrs, nail digging in the blossoming mark he’s left, until your hips seek his touch.

he puts his mouth to you. you bite your lip, hard, as you feel him tease you, tongue lapping at you like sweet pomegranate, skilled fingers coaxing pleas for more. the cold of his silver ring has you keening - you're melting against him.

it’s obscene, how the only sounds you can hear are the pleased moans of your lover, the squelching of your juices dripping down his face, his wrist. it’s too much, too fast - your nails dig into his nape, bringing him closer. fucker’s purring, hands digging in your hips. he’s making a feast out of you, and you’ve never seen prettier sight. 

feyd-rautha, kneeling at your feet, a pretty, pretty blush dusting his cheeks, his soft mouth on your cunt, ruining you as he denies himself sweet release.

“feyd-”

a jolt - he’s just nipped your clit, and you’re falling apart with his name on your tongue, burning, melting in the pits of desire. you grow boneless, faltering on unsteady legs. he pulls you to him before you can fall, kissing you, moulding his devouring mouth to yours. 

distantly, you register that he’s breathless, that he’s pressing you against him, that you can feel the dampness at the front of his pants.

his voice is a low, needy rasp.

“you taste divine, my dear.”

there’s a commotion. someone, somewhere, is calling. a servant. a feast is prepared. blasphemy - the baron is a beast, and he will not have his nephew leave without obscene amounts of food. good. it leaves room for you to plan - you’re running out of precious, precious time. there are too many variables for you to act alone, yet you are.

you’re sitting at feyd-rautha’s side at a banquet table. on you watch, a mockery of a bene gesserit, nails digging in your palm. there’s a knife before you, of course. the baron’s sitting at the head of the table, stuffing himself until he’s about to burst. 

repulsive.

you could do it now. put an end to the harkonnen, avenge your family. plunge that knife in the baron’s throat and watch him die like an animal. 

but revenge is best served cold. you remember princess irulan being seated in front of you. you remember the emperor at the head of the table. you remember his knife slicing through unknown poultry. a falcon. he’s doomed your family to death. 

the emperor is old. paranoid. anybody would’ve seen that the atreides were far too loyal to even consider rebelling against him, rising influence or not. someone convinced him otherwise. the truthsayer, reverend mother gaius helen moriam. 

you take a bite of your own meal and find it tasting like ash. the only dish you yearn for is revenge.

you want the baron dead. you want the emperor stripped of his power. you want to watch the split second of horrified realisation on the reverend mother's face. 

you want them to burn, and burn they will.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @moonsoulk @alexandrainlove @saturnhas82moons @coureurs-de-bois9 @kamcrazy123 @beebeechaos @avidreader73 @yzuposts @jaiuneamesolitaiire

#obticeo writes #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha #bald freak supremacy #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune smut #austin butler smut

[vintagepresley]

Hi can I request and Austin x reader fic, where he asks her to marry him in front of his whole family, but she’s not ready for marriage so she refuses him. They break up and reconnect years later, have make-up sex and run off to Vegas to enlope

Thank you for the request! I've got the perfect title for this one. ❤️

Bye Bye Baby

Austin had been your boyfriend for almost two years and things were as perfect as they ever could be between the two of you and the love still strong as ever. That was until he would bring up the point of marriage and the possibility of the two of you getting hitched. He'd only bring it up just to get an idea of where your head was at when it came to marriage and when he did you would always lie about being ready for marriage. When in reality you were far from ready for something like that. You loved him dearly, but you weren't ready for such a huge commitment like that one. You didn't want to hurt his feelings either so you would suppress your actual thoughts just to make him happy. But doing that had him truly believing that you were ready and he couldn't hide his excitement. He wanted to make you his forever. So a few weeks after your last conversation on the matter he finally decided that maybe it was time to do a little ring shopping for you.

While you were away for a few days for work he had spent time going to a few different ring shops in town and just browsing for the perfect ring for you, he had it all planned out how he was going to ask your hand in marriage. He was going to throw a big dinner party for you, his parents, and your parents and ask you in front of everyone. He was so excited that it was hard for him to try to keep it a secret from you. After a few hours of ring shopping he finally came across the perfect ring. He picked out a beautiful ring it wasn't too flashy and over the top, it was just right with small diamonds along the band and a two carat diamond once he got it sized for you he left the store with the ring in hand and a wide smile on his face and making sure to hide it in some place you wouldn't think of looking until the dinner party.

It was the day of the dinner party and Austin was a nervous wreck and it was became quite obvious even though he tried his best to hide it, in order to make things not seem so suspicious about why both of your families were coming he made up some ridiculous story about how it had been awhile since you all spent time together. Which you bought for the most part but it still didn't explain his nervousness. He was never really nervous around your parents so you knew that wasn't it. But you pushed it out of your mind as the night went on and both of yours parents arrived. You had decided to make dinner for everyone and once everything was done Austin had helped you set the table as your parents talked with one another. He came up behind you as you were placing the wine glasses on the table, kissing the side of your neck softly as his arms squeezed around your waist. You let out a soft giggle from his tickling kisses. "You are in an extra happy mood today." you said softly. He chuckled softly against your neck, peppering a few more kisses against it as he let out a small hum. "You just make me happy that's all.." he grinned. You blushed at his words. "You make me happy too. Now shoo so I can finish doing this." you laughed as you wiggled from his grip.

He smiled widely as he grabbed a few plates and set them on the table and once that was all done you went to let both your parents know that dinner was ready, Austin stood in the dinning room clutching on the small box that was in his pocket as everyone came into the room, he decided to wait a little after dinner to propose, taking his seat a the head of the table as you took a seat at the other end, everyone digging into the delicious meal that you had made and chitchatting with one another. Everything about this night just seemed so perfect that he thought what could go wrong. Once everyone had finished their meal and was just causal talking and sipping on their wine that's when Austin stood up from his seat and the room fell silent as he stood before everyone getting their attention. You raised an eyebrow wondering what he was doing. You couldn't shake how strange he was being, little did you know that everyone knew his plans of proposing to you. "I-I just wanted to thank you all for coming and thank you to my beautiful girl for making this wonderful dinner for us." he said happily. A smile dancing across your lips.

"I also wanted to say how much I love you, adore you. You're the only girl that could ever make me this happy. I don't know what I'd do without you. You mean the world to me." he says softly as he moved from his place and slowly made his way over to you, his hand in his pocket holding onto the little box as he stood before you. You stared up at him with wide eyes completely in awe of his little speech that was until he slowly sank down onto one knee and now your heart was racing and your mind was running rampant. Oh god.. No... "You mean so much to me, Y/N, truly. I want you to be mine forever." he says as he slips the small box out of his pocket and holding it in front of you, your parents smiling warmly so excited for you along with his parents. He slowly opened the box to show the beautiful diamond ring. You felt the tightness in your chest and your nerves going crazy as everyone stared at the two of you. You didn't want this. You weren't ready. But you sat that nearly frozen as he finally said the words. "Y/N, would do me the honor of becoming my wife?" he whispered so sweetly. You swallowed harshly looking over at everyone and then looking down at him. He stared at you and now his smile was slowly fading as you still didn't answer. "Baby?" he says softly. "I-I'm sorry... No.." you mumbled as you stood up from your seat and hurried out of the room and sprinting down the hall to the bedroom and slamming the door closed.

Austin was so embarrassed as his face got flustered and red, his hand hanging in disappoint before he slowly stood up again, closing the little box and setting it on the table. He couldn't understand what he did wrong, why you said no. You told him you wanted this. You both did. He apologized to everyone as he excused himself and went to the bedroom, slowly opening the door to find you packing a bag. "W-Where the hell are you going?? Why did you just embarrass me out there like that!?" he yelled. You ignored him just wanting to get away from him, feeling so confused. He walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm quite roughly to stop you. "I'm speaking to you! What the hell is your problem??? Now you don't want to marry me? But you told me several times you did." His voice loud and filled with anger. You tried to pull your arm from his tight hold. "I never wanted to get married!!" you finally admit to him, all of your parents hearing the two of you arguing with one another. "Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N? Then why did you lie and say that you did? You fucking embarrassed me out there!" he screams.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings because I know how much you want to get married. But I don't. I'm not ready. I love you, but that is not something I can do right now. I never meant to embarrass you." you say with a soft sigh. He scoffed at your words. "You love me? But you do this to me? You don't love me.. You played with my feelings and made me believe you wanted something you didn't." he says almost on the verge of tears. "Austin, please, I do love you.. I never meant to lie.. I just.. I was afraid. You tried touch him now. He pulled away from you. "Just get the hell out.. I don't want to see you again.." he says sternly, he couldn't even look at you. You had such a sullen look on your face and your eyes welled up with tears at his words. He was shutting you out and not couldn't even look at you. It felt as if he was just disgusted with you. "Aus.. I.." but before you could finish your sentence he walked out the room, slamming the door shut that he almost knocked the pictures off the wall. That was the end of your loving relationship all because you couldn't be honest with him.

Bye Bye Baby Goodbye...

A few years had gone by since that awful and embarrassing night and the two of you never had any kind of contact since that day, you'd sometimes see things about him and how his career was going, he even started dating someone new through those years and though just the thought of him being with someone else broke your heart.. You were happy for him. You knew you broke his heart and that you had no right to even feel the way you did whenever his name was mentioned, but you couldn't help it. Your heart still longed for him that you even had regrets about not accepting his proposal. But you had moved on with someone else as well. You never found anyone who could make you feel so deeply as Austin had or gave you butterflies the way he did or just the way he could make you smile from the simplest things. But there wasn't anything you could do.

Austin had similar issues in his new relationships he just couldn't seem to find the girl for him, but he had thought he found it again in this new girl he had been dating for almost year now. She brought back some of those feelings that you had gave him and felt maybe he had finally found his person. Maybe you weren't the one for him all those years ago, maybe this new girl was. Even though he was hesitate to even ask another woman to marry him he decided to take the plunge and asked her to marry him, she said yes of course being completely in love with Austin. But even still his heart wasn't fully fulfilled and it didn't help that you ran in some of the same social circles and your name would be brought up and felt like ancient history how long ago you too had broken up, secretly still pinning for one another as you continued your lives with other people, not completely satisfied. But knowing it was for the best.

You're the one girl in town I'd marry...

There was a special event going on that the both of you were expected to attend that night, you showed up with your boyfriend on your arm and wearing a beautiful red dress with a plunging v-neck that showed off your breasts perfectly and hugged every inch of your curves, you were practically turning heads with how beautiful you looked. Austin had arrived with his fiancé on his arm looking handsome as ever in his tuxedo and his hair tussled so perfectly. Neither of you had even heard that the other one was going to be there and by some strange fate you ended up bumping into one another. You both stood frozen in place when you locked eyes and the history between you two all coming back in that one singular moment. You wanted to just walk away and pretend you hadn't seen him, but it was too late he was approaching you and his eyes sneakily wandering over your body, all he could think about was how incredibly sexy you looked. He took a deep breath and you clenched your jaw as you were face to face now. "Y/N.. It's been a long time.. H-How are you?" he says softly. You gulped and nodding slowly. "Yes.. A very long time.. I-I'm good.." you murmured, he looked so handsome it was driving you a bit wild, but you kept calm. The two of you forgetting that your significant others were standing beside you both. His fiancé squeezing at his arm to introduce her as she gave you a look.

"Oh... Uh.. Y/N this is Nora.. My uh.. My..." he couldn't get the words out until she rudely interrupted him, holding out hair hand to show off her ring. "His fiancé." she says with such an attitude. "Oh... Congrats.." you mumbled, so badly wanting to roll your eyes at her and noticing it was not the same ring he had offered you. She smiled, glancing up at him as he nodded. "Yes, thank you.." he says unenthusiastically. "Um, this is my boyfriend.. Milo.." you mumbled. "Nice to meet you.." Austin says as the two men shake hands. "Well, we should probably find our seats." you say softly, tugging your boyfriend away as you began to walk away, the two of you sharing a glance as you walked passed each other and then looking over your shoulder to catch him staring at you as well the farther you got from one another. Your heart feeling as it once did when you were together, that entire night all you both could do was think about each other and that awkward encounter. You couldn't believe he was engaged and to that rude woman. You truly had lost him and all you felt was regret no matter how long it had been since you were together.

You had excused yourself to run to the bathroom as you did you caught Austin walking in the same direction as you approached the bathroom and when he saw you he headed straight your way. "Y/N, hey, I-I'm sorry about Nora.. She's.." you cut him off. "Don't worry about it." you uttered as you pushed the bathroom door open, wanting to keep your distant from him because you were liable to do anything because of how much you waned him. But he grabbed a hold of your wrist. "Wait.. I.. Can we talk?" he asked. You nodded your head hesitantly and he gestured for you both to go somewhere a bit more private and he ended up leading you over to coat check where the attendant had left to go on break and he pulled you into the room full of everyone's jackets and shutting the door. You furrowed your brow at him, you understood he wanted to speak with you in private but it didn't need to be this private. As you were getting ready to speak his hands cupped your face and he crashed his lips against your own in a deep kiss.

As much as you knew it was wrong you kissed him back deeply, placing your hands against his chest and quickly pushing him back once you finally got a hold of yourself. "What are you doing? You're engaged.. I have someone..We can't do this.." you whispered. "Y/N, all these years, I've missed you so much. I hate what happened between us. How we left things. I've never been truly happy since then. Seeing you tonight for the first time.. I.. I realized I don't love Nora. My heart has always and will always belong to you." he confessed. Your eyes welled up with tears at his sweet confession and you had felt the same way. "Aus.. I.. I've felt the same way. I know I screwed things up with us, I hurt you and I lied. But I never stopped loving you. I've regretted that day since then." you whispered. He shook his head. "That's in the past.. I don't care anymore... I want you back. I need you or I can't ever be truly happy.." he his lips moving close to yours, hovering so close.

Your breath heavy as your eyes met his and your lips nearly touching again as you whispered, "I want you.." and then your lips crashed against one another and he pulled you into his tight embrace, pressing your body against his as his hands ran over the curves of your body as two of you kissed so intensely, devouring each other in such a passionate kiss. Your hands frantically reaching down to his pants and unbuckling his belt and eagerly tugging down his pants as he grabbed a hold of your dress and tugging it up over your waist, his hands running over the fabric of your panties. A rush of lust and happiness running throughout the both of you as you desired one another for so long that it felt like the very first time again, he grabbed your hips and turned you around, his hands ripping your panties off of you with such a roughness and you kicked off from around your ankles as your hands grasped the wall in front of you as he arched your back and grabbed a hold of your hips, pulling you back against him as he reached down with his right hand to grab a hold of his cock and lining it with your sweet entrance, a part of you he missed so much and in a blink of an eye you let out a soft gasp as you felt him plow his cock deep inside of you, a loud groan escaping his lips and you let out a whimpering sound. You had missed the feeling of him buried within you.

Your pussy clenched around his familiar cock so tight that it erupted another loud groan from his lips. “Goddamn.. So tight.. J-Just like I remember..” he mewled. He grabbed a hold of your hips and began to slam himself inside you, his hips and balls slapping against your ass with each rough thrust he made, his cock forcing you open for him and stretching around him as he pumped you full of him. Your hands clawing at the wall before you as you moaned out loudly. “Austin.. Fuck…” you whimpered. You were sure that if anyone walked by they could hear the dirty things the two of you were doing. He fucked you with such a forcefulness that it made you ache for more, not wanting him to stop. His name leaving your lips between your pornographic moans and whimpers, reaching a hand back to grip onto his thigh and digging your nails into him. “Harder, baby.. P-Please.. I-I missed your cock so much..” you cried. He smirked at your words and he reached around to place hand around your throat, squeezing tight as he held your hips still with his other hand he moving in at a quicker and rougher pace, each thrust slammed inside of you so deep and hard that he was hitting your cervix, it felt like he was tearing you apart and you loved every sweet moment of it. His groans loud and long as his eyes rolled back and his face buried into your neck. "I missed fucking you.." he uttered under his heavy panting breath.

Your hand squeezed and clawed at his tight that you managed to draw blood. "Oh, honey.. I.. I'm gonna cum.." you yelped between your moans as you threw your head back your mouth forming an O shape. He kissed along your neck his groans vibrating against you. "Cum for me, baby... Cum all over what belongs to you.." he whispered in your ear. His sweet words sent a shiver throughout your entire body, one you hadn't felt in so long and as your orgasm built up it finally came crashing to the surface and coming out in droves as you moaned his name at top of your lungs, cumming on his throbbing cock and making a mess. "Fuck.. Good girl.." he growled. His cock thrusting within you with long and slow strokes as he approached his climax his arms around you tight as he held you close and steady his movements as he held you down on his cock and his cum thick warm cum filling you up that you trembled around him at the very feeling, letting out a shaky whine. He reached down to slip his cock out of you the two of you whimpering softly against one another and you turned around in his arms, slipping your arms around his broad shoulders and kissing him so sloppily and deep, that what you just did together made you both forget you were in relationships. Nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. You had found a your way back to one another.

You pulled back from the kiss your lips hovering close to his and your sweaty foreheads pressed up against one another as you nuzzled your nose up against his the both of you taking deep slow breaths. "Let's get married.. I can't live without you.. it's unbearable.." you blurted out in a soft whisper. His eyes widen at your words, he captured your lips in a soft kiss, you could feel him smiling on your lips. "Right now?" he chuckled, he didn't even bother to question or think twice about what you two were about to do. All he knew is that you were his true love. His one and only and he didn't want to lose you again. You giggled at his words, nodding. "We can catch a flight to Vegas and be there within an hour.." you mumbled. He grinned at your words. "Let's do it.." he said happily, giving you another kiss. You were smiling so wide and it was hard to hide your blush and contain your excitement. You knew all those years ago that you were a fool for ever saying no to him, denying his proposal. You weren't going to make that same mistake twice.

The two of you quickly fixed yourselves and putting back on any clothing you had stripped off and he grabbed a hold of your hand, opening the coat check door just slightly, peeking his head out and making sure there was no one around as the two of you snuck away, practically running out of the event and suv that had driven Austin and his now ex fiancé to the event had still been waiting outside, the two of quickly hopped inside and the driver was a bit confused but didn't question a thing as Austin told him to make a quick stop before taking the two of to LAX. You had no real plan, no change of clothes, but you didn't care. The two of you were going to get married if it was the last thing you did. You pulled up to his apartment curious as to what he needed to get. He kissed you quickly. "I'll be right back, my love." he mumbled as he headed out of the car and into the house. You smiled as you waited patiently for him so anxious to get to Vegas.

When Austin got inside he hurried to his bedroom, searching through his closet and grabbing a small shoe box that sat in it and opening it to find some of the things he had saved from the time you were together, he didn't have the heart to throw any of it out. He grabbed the small jewelry box, not only did he not have the heart to throw anything out he never returned your ring either, he opened the box smiling at the beautiful diamond ring and he headed back out to you, hopping into the car and now you were headed to LAX. "Got everything you needed?" you hummed. "Oh, I do now.." he said with a grin presenting you with the familiar little box and you smiled widely at him. "Is that what I think it is?" you whispered. He nodded happily, opening the box and you beamed with happiness seeing that familiar gorgeous ring. "I-I thought you would've thrown that out or returned it.." you said softly, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at it and then back at him. "I could never do that. This was meant for you and there was no way in hell I was giving it to Nora. She didn't even know I had this." he said softly, removing the ring from its box and taking your left hand into his with a grin and even though you two had already agreed to get married he felt it was only proper to ask. "Will you marry me, baby?" he uttered softly. Your face hurt with how big you were smiling, a few small tears streaming down your face as you nodded swiftly. "Yes!" you exclaimed the words leaving you with such glee. He leaned over to kiss your lips softly as he slide the ring onto your finger, giving your hand a gentle kiss and you sighed contently, snuggling up to him as you made your way to the airport.

Today's the day we'll say "I do", and we'll never be lonely anymore...

After three long hours two of it spent in the airport you finally made it to Vegas and Austin looked up chapels in the area as you were in your Uber from the Vegas airport. He chose the first one that popped up, he didn't care where you went as long as he was finally able to call you his wife. You were giddy with excitement as you clung to him a small part of you feeling a bit bad when you thought about Nora and Milo probably going out of their minds wondering where the two of you went and wouldn't be long before the news hit the internet. But that feeling lasted for a but a moment once you had arrived at he chapel. How could you feel bad about being reunited with your true love? It was pure fate. Austin held onto your hand as the two of you approached the little chapel and walked inside, looking around with smiles as you were greeted by the owner, he welcomed you and had asked what kind of wedding you were looking to have. Austin stopped him. "We don't need anything fancy.. We just wanna be married." he said with a soft chuckle. The man laughed and nodded his head. "Young love." he hummed.

You laughed as the two of you followed behind the man as he lead you to the cute little chapel, you certainly didn’t have the proper dress for this, but the two of you would eventually have another wedding, a proper wedding for your friends and family, but for now this was for the two of you. A long awaited commitment that should’ve happened years ago, but things happen for a reason. As the man stood before you being the one to marry the both of you, you turned to face each other and Austin took both of your hands into his and intertwining your fingers together, you squeezed his hands tight as those same rush of butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you stared at you soon-to-be husband. As he began the vows you had gotten quite emotional and began to tear up, Austin smiled and reached a hand up to wipe away your tears, his fingers brushing gently against your face and when you had finally gotten to the “I do’s” neither of you wasted a moment to utter those sweet words.

“I do.” Austin hummed with a grin.

“I do.” You followed behind his words, smiling ear to ear.

"By the power vested in me by the state of Nevada, I now pronounce you husband and wife... You may now kiss your beautiful bride." the man says happily. You two of you beamed with with happiness and cupping each other's faces within your hands as your lips met in a loving, passionate and deep kiss and pulling back slowly as you gazed into each other's eyes with so much love and hope for the future. He was your world and without him in it was the most miserable few years of your life. You promised to never let him go.

I'll be his and he'll be mine...

**

Oh goodness. Can you tell I was super inspired with this request? lol. Two songs I had in mind while writing it 'Bye Bye Baby by Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons, 'Chapel of Love' by The Dixie Cups.

Tagging who was interested and my other Austin fic lovers. ☺️

@purejasmine @generoustreemystic @kiankiwi @ilovehobi101 @kingdomforapony @pennyroyalcreep @godlypresley @emmymaehereeeeee @presleysdarling @powerofelvis

#Austin butler #Austin x you #austin x reader #Austin x y/n #Austin fluff #Austin angst #Austin smut #Austin imagine #requested

[obsessedvibee]

Patient Love

Summary: Austin and virgin readers wedding night

(coming soon)

~I’m 1.2k words in right now and the reader isn’t even out of her wedding dress yet..someone help 😅~

Here’s a little teaser to hold y’all over.

He turned to look at his new wife. He was torn between his gentlemanly side, and his primal side. Half of him wanted to watch her until the sun rose, tracing her every curve and make love to her in the way he knew she was anticipating. The other half of him wanted to stalk over to her and tear the shimmering white gown right off her body and fuck her into the mattress, splitting her open with his cock. He ran a hand through his wavy hair, tugging lightly, the pain helping rein his thoughts back in. Although it did nothing to avert the interest his cock had in the idea..

…to be continued 🌹🔥♥️😘

#austin butler smut #Austin #austin butler #austin x reader #austin x y/n

[drewsephrry]

kook besties with the big 3

inspo creds to the lovely @erwinsvow

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey x reader #topper thorton x reader #topper thornton #kelce obx #deion smith #austin north #austin north x reader #austin north imagine #deion smith x reader #deion smith imagine #kelce smith #obx netflix #obx #obx rafe cameron #obx x reader #obx x you #obx x y/n #obx instagram stories #instagram story #instagram stories imagine

[sweet-fading-summer-love]

Liar Liar

Just a little Protective!Austin Butler x Wife!Reader blurb

Summary - After a rather unpleasant encounter with a familiar neighbor at your local supermarket, you come home to your husband, Austin, teary-eyed and shaken up. He handles it, and afterward, he handles you.

Warnings - Mid-Late 60s AU, vague mention of unspecified sexual harassment/assault, swearing, hinted at violence, protective Austin crying, angst, Austin is a bit insensitive here, Austin is set to be a morally grey person outside of his love for you

WC - 2k

Author's Note - So I haven't used this account in forever mostly because I haven't felt like writing much lately, I've been lacking inspiration, but I was scrolling through pinterest and saw that picture of Austin, and good god. Anyways now we're here, enjoy. This was also supposed to have a very smutty ending but it felt too random the way I was formatting it so I tossed it, so this ending is random and abrupt, but again it's just a blurb

The sound of Austin's tongue clicking at the two orange cats that wormed their way through his legs and around his feet was cut off by a wince as he knicked his thumb on the ridged edge of the cat food can.

Normally you'd feed the cats just before starting dinner, but you'd gone to the grocery store over half an hour before to grab a few ingredients. Austin didn't mind feeding the cats. Although he pretended to think they were a menace to the home, truth be told he didn't mind the cats as long as you weren't around, when you were around he'd get jealous of the love you showed the cats, almost like a child.

"Damnit…"

He mumbled softly before bringing the knick up to his mouth to suck the blood up. He could hear you already nagging him about using soap and water, you were very passionate about hygiene and health. He could also hear you nagging him about using a knife to open the can instead of the state-of-the-art electric can opener you bought at a Home Show. He hated when you went to those things, he feared you would realize the poor quality of life that his job provided the two of you with, seeing all that gorgeous furniture while your own was hand-me-down from his parents and going on 13 years old this June.

The cats let out a choir of meows that were beginning to overpower the tune that Austin had playing on the record player, Bring It On Home to Me, Sam Cooke. Austin still wasn't quite over his death, so Cooke had kept the both of you company many mornings and nights as Austin's way to honor him. Austin sighed softly,

"Alright alright, it's coming you glutinous bastards"

He used his uncut hand to peel back the rest of the can's top, then after walking to the cat bowls, he, in a very unceremonious manner began beating and battering the open end of the can into the poor plastic bowls. After a dozen or so pounds (one of which may have been from the angry neighbors in the apartment below), the food was dished out and the cats were happy as clams.

He tossed the can into the sink, confident you would sort through it later as you'd been getting quite involved in some sort of environmental shenanigans with those hippies which involved reusing cans for art or other projects. Austin didn't like you around them truthfully.

As Austin took a quick swig of a bottle of brandy he heard the front door open and close. Not an unusual occurrence. If you went out the door, of course, you'd come back in the door. What was unusual was the lack of that sing-song voice of yours. There was no, "I'm home!!", no "Baby guess what?!", no "Where are my pretty kitties?" in reference to both Austin and the actual cats, there was nothing. And it was eerie, making Austin for a moment furrow his brows and crane his neck to see if it was you.

He smiled softly at the sight of your figure, you were turned away from him, a bag in each arm, trying to lock the door, it's something you'd done many times before, but this time your arms were too shaky to keep it all together, and with a clatter and crash of glass one of the bags fell from your arms, landing on the floor, making you jump back in shock.

The noise had surprised Austin as he flinched at the sudden ruckus, quickly rounding the counter, letting your pet name "Babydoll", slip through his lips in worry as he did so. Thankfully he noticed whatever glass jar or bottle you'd bought at the market had broken in the bag so there weren't shards strewn about, his rough hand landed on your wrist to turn you around, but you'd jumped and turned at the sensation, not expecting him to touch you, or be so close to you.

"Woah, woah, babydoll what's the matter?"

At his concerned tone and furrowed eyebrows of confusion your face had crumpled and you let out a child-like cry, ugly in all its manner, but as raw as can be. Your arms stretched out to him as your face continued to contort in a way Austin had not yet seen. Now it wasn't unusual for you to cry, you had always been a bit of a crybaby truthfully, but you hadn't cried so helplessly for as long as Austin could remember.

"Baby? Honey, what's wrong?"

He kept trying to push you away far enough to make eye contact with you, but before he could you kept curling your head back into his chest or shoulder. "What happened?" His voice was stern but there were hints of sympathy that only you could detect as you continued to cry into his chest.

"T-thomas…"

Austin's forehead wrinkled at the name in confusion. Thomas was a tenant in the same apartment building, you and Austin had met him a few times before and he had confided in Austin about his issues regarding how unsteady his job was, how much he'd been spending on alcohol, and the kind of dark conflicting thoughts he'd had. All those things combined and the fact that Thomas' wife often sported a bruise after the entire apartment building was subjected to listening to their arguments had given Austin enough reason to tell you to stay away from him.

"What's he got to do with this Baby?"

With your silence and sniffles being his only current answer, Austin's imagination goes wild, and those soft pillowy lips thin into a line of concentration. His rough hands which have only handled your body carefully, begin to forcefully latch onto the sides of your head, pulling your head back to finally look him in the eye. It felt like your skull might soon cave in and you weren't sure if it was the overwhelming feelings of the moment or if he was just using that much force. You knew very well it could've been the latter.

Your lip quivers as you look up at his blank face. He let out a shudder of a breath and asked with a jittery, almost sinisterly excitable look in his eye, "Did Tommy touch you? Did he lay a hand on you like he does his wife? He hit you?"

You attempted to shake your head only to feel his hold on your head grow tighter as he edged his face closer to yours. As he stared at you through those blank glassy eyes, like he didn't have a clear, coherent thought behind them, he asked another question.

"What did he do?"

The eye contact was getting to be too much, you felt like too much of a wreck to answer, so you closed your eyes, and with the closing of your lids, tears slid down your cheeks simultaneously. And that was enough of an answer for Austin. His voice was gravelly, as he mumbled, "That fucking-"

Before he could finish his statement, he'd paced back into the kitchen, pulling a drawer open roughly, you could hear by the clatter it made that it was either the silverware drawer or the knife drawer. It didn't matter which, in Austin's state he could do a decent amount of damage with either.

Finally, you regained your voice, "Austin…" but it was too late, he was already about to pace right by you. But you grabbed his wrist with both hands, "Austin..!" He turned to look at you and had easily released himself from your grip, instead now he held your wrist and pulled you over to the couch.

By now your tears were from both your experience with Thomas but also your worry for Austin. You didn't want him doing something that would land him in jail. You knew that he had been the kind of man in the past to run with the wrong crowd and he already did have a criminal record, which is part of the reason his job has such shitty pay. They say old habits die hard but you didn't want another man to die with it.

Your voice was quivery and weeping as you put two shaky hands on his free hand, pleading rather than asking, "Y-you're not gonna kill him, are you? You're not gonna touch him right? Oh please Austin it's not a big deal, I don't want you to-"

"Stay here. I don't want you to go off and get yourself into more fucking trouble"

Austin paced to the hook holding his brown jacket and quickly shrugged it over his white tank, zipping it before making his way out the door. He didn't even spare you a look before slamming the door to the apartment shut.

You felt hurt by the statement, it wasn't something he'd normally say, and he didn't tend to speak to you like that. But you could reassure yourself that it's just because he's so worried about you. Austin tended to be a little mean when he was overwhelmed, angry, sad, or worried. But you knew to listen to his command in this state.

For the next hour or so you had calmed yourself down and had tucked yourself into the corner of the worn, plush sofa. Your cats Marlon and Kick were cuddled up to you with Marlon by your feet and Kick on your lap. And just as you were beginning to nod off you heard the lock click and door open. The apartment was quite small so your living room and kitchen happened to also be your apartment entry. You turned your head and saw Austin looking cautious as he entered the apartment.

Whenever he yelled at you he had that cautious look before approaching you, it was cute and boyish. It made you forget he ever yelled. As he walked closer the dim, yellow lighting of the living room lamp gave you a sight of a reddish, brownish color stained onto the fabric of his brown jacket, it wasn't in large splashes, it was more so a little spatter on the two the sleeves and over the front center. Your stomach dropped as you questioned, "Aus, is that.."

"It's my own Honey, it was a fair fight, fists only"

He said that as if it would make you feel better, well it did a little, knowing it was less likely for him to have killed the guy and get put away for life. Austin shrugged off the jacket and tossed it into the laundry room which was more of a closet really, before walking over to sit on the sofa next to you. His white tank was completely unharmed, still a pristine white.

You looked him over with a bit of worry, he spoke lowly, "Thomas isn't gonna bother you again, it- It's all handled, Baby". You hummed appreciatively and maneuvered your body to cuddle into his side. "Thank you, Honey…" He hummed in response while staring at the pictures on the wall in front of the two of you, he leaned his head onto yours which rested on his shoulder.

You then asked,

"What happened to the knife?"

He answered while continuing to look straight ahead,

"Ah, I dropped it, don't know why I took it. I think I lost it somewhere in the stairwell, I'll go looking for it tomorrow."

Your eyes fell to his lap, the way his calloused hands lay so limply. You didn't believe him. You knew when your husband was lying. And you knew when he said that the blood was his that he was lying, after all his face looked clean and smooth aside from his 5-o'clock shadow. Didn't have a bruise, some sort of swelling, or a scratch on him.

His voice had pulled you out of the storm that your thoughts were developing as he mumbled, "I love you."

You grabbed his hand and smiled, "I love you."

As you held it you noticed a little itty bitty cut on his thumb, not any sort of cut from a fight.

"What happened to your thumb?"

Austin peered down at it and shrugged, "Cut it opening a can"

Your eyebrow quirked as you looked up at him, shoulders going limp in defeat as you nagged, "I told you to stop using knives to open the cat food, why do you think I bought that electric can opener-"

"Why can't we just have a hand-held can opener??"

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler fandom #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fluff #austin butler smut

[justafangir1]

Hey guys, I’ve got in my mind an Austin fic series I would love to read, but just don’t have the writing abilities. I really love the idea of being Baz and Catherine’s daughter so if anyone would be keen to write it or knows anyone who would please do bc I have been dying to read something like this for so long.

#austin butler #elvis 2022 #austin x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x you #Austin x you #Austin x y/n #Baz Luhrmann #catherine martin