#austin Butler

[destinymoore05]

I want Austin Butler. I need him.

im very nostalgic for lips that never kissed me and arms that never held me

[lovemyselfyay]

SIR WHERE IS YOUR WAIST-

[hogans-heroes]

Have some fluffy Austin today 🥹❤️

[austinbutlerslovers]

Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💭Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying. 

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Margot—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Austin grins at something Lea says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. The inky darkness of his black out smile makes the gesture both unnerving and magnetically attractive as she leans in closer to playfully tease him.

The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment in Austin’s trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “—Tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan fades from your lips. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

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

[psycheetamore]

Idk, somehow I get the feeling we are seeing a glimpse of the real austin here 🥰

[avonne-writes]

[aust-een]

Austin really do be looking smashable in a long sleeve

[peggyao3]

Relic - Pt. 16 "Destroyer of Worlds"

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC

SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧ A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.

TAGS: Third person POV, she/her AFAB FMC, explicit sexual content, smut, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, plans within plans, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced abuse, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/ Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, murder, teaching the universe about feminism, female rage, Frank Herbert would frown, No actually he would kneel in front of me, putting the science and the porn in sci-fi, angst with a happy ending

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: We're really getting there now 🥹🥹🥹 I'm so excited. And I'm very pleased with this chapter 🤭 I can't wait to hear what you think!

Reposted from my Ao3💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter (tba) →

Day 100

No guards frame the door that is tall and glinting back, just like Feyd had assured her. When she had approached it and passed through it several weeks prior, she thought it may as well lead to hell, but today she is certain of it. Except it won't be Feyd's hell or hers, it will be his.

And he will have no time for tricks.

With her gun of clear, shiny plastic raised in front of her chest, the relic enters Baron Vladimir Harkonnen's bath chambers.

The scented, herbal fog hasn't grown as dense and thick yet and the white, fleshy heap at the center of the tub fills out her sight at once. And unexpectedly, there is movement to the right, not a guard or a servant but Glugo who quivers in a damp basket near the wall.

While the woman's eyes are briefly averted, the Baron's shield flares up around his misshapen form at a flick against the massive, silver band at his middle finger. The smallest and priciest model on the market, Ixian technology.

"I expected my nephew," he drones, voice amplified by the vaulted ceiling but distorted by the shield.

"Hands on the pool edge," the woman demands, voice as cold as cryogenic vapor. Vladimir acquiesces, unable to reach for the transponder behind his ear. An invisible muscle ticks at his fleshy jaw.

"I hold audiences every Freitak," he attempts to jest, arms spread out in mockery as he adjusts them on the slippery edge. "No need to assault me in my own bath chambers."

A blunder, he realizes quickly as her face hardens with rancor. Not a molecule would fit between her clenched teeth.

"You're troubled because of what you saw," he concludes. "It was a mistake." Vladimir concedes all too quickly. His finesse seems to have evaporated along with the curling steam and he realizes he knows nothing substantial about the woman.

"Quite," she confirms curtly, closing in with slow, deliberate steps. The crosshair projected by her interface, only for her eyes to see, dances over the Baron's face, but she won't take any risks. At the center of the vaulted chamber, a generous distance separates them still, but she feels more confident in her aim.

Pulling a trigger is as easy as dropping a bomb. She should have it in her. Her kin have dropped bombs like rainfall back in the slaughterhouse warfare for oil and soil and rare earths.

The Baron gawks at the muzzle, an unassuming hole among glossy, alien plastic. His old eyes might be deceiving him, but he thinks he can see the inner cogs and channels shimmering through the surface, and a metallic component that doesn't belong.

A lasgun! She's either a maniac or an idiot! Or truly a relic of long-forgotten ages, like the sisterhood had said.

He could either deactivate his shield and die certainly, saving the palace and the capital from nuclear fallout, or he could take them down with him, his nephew included.

"You don't want to fire a lasgun at me, kid."

His voice booms and the Tleilaxu creature leaps out of its basket, hand-feet splatting across the damp tiles. Thank God, it flees out the door, the relic thinks. That tiny moment of inattentiveness is enough for Vladimir to flick the switch at the ring on his pointer, a special gift that was given to him just a few days ago, and just in time. Already, he feels safer.

"That's not a normal lasgun." Her attention is back on the Baron and she smiles knowingly. Vladimir despises the self-assured look of it.

"We can find a civilized solution for this," he declares with renewed confidence. Pretending to think, he sways his fatty neck from side to side. "I know my nephew has plenty to offer, so I don't see why we shouldn't be able to share."

She laughs out brightly, a sound like a whiplash across the Baron's heaving chest. "Where I'm from, there's the death penalty for abusers like you. I couldn't build an electric chair, so I brought something else."

"And what have you got there?" Get her talking, he thinks, beady eyes greedily darting for the door.

"Feyd's wedding gift."

"Feyd's wedding—?"

Thumb slipping over the back of the gun, she cocks the hammer.

"Did I understand that correctly? If you miscalculated, this test will cause an atomic explosion?" The memory of a few days prior fills out her mind, easing the terrible anxiety that now dampens her palms. "Yes, but I did not miscalculate." "Then why test it?" Feyd-Rautha had paced anxiously behind her and sized up the heap of towels stacked in the corner of her room, their outline blue and blurred by a softly humming Holtzman shield. "Better to be safe than sorry." "I'd feel sorry if you blew up my planet." "I wouldn't," she had responded with hardness and pulled the trigger. Doing so fires the bullet first, then a fine tuned laser beam from a smaller second muzzle, as light travels faster than matter and the bullet needs more time to reach its target. The double muzzle is calibrated to take the bullet's weight and distance from the target into consideration. Light may have no inherent mass, but photons do transmit impulse. And so the photons that comprise the laser beam collide with the Holtzman shield's nuclei and propel them into motion towards the body they are meant to protect. The beam's impact isn't hard enough to trigger a nuclear chain reaction, but just right to accelerate the nuclei. And by the time the bullet arrives at the crime scene too, its relative velocity to the shield is that of a slow blade. With a thump, the bullet had sunken into the stack of towels.

The door moves at her back and the only reason why she doesn't jump in fright is because she recognizes his footsteps.

"Wait, my darling."

The Baron could weep with joy at the sight of his dear nephew. Not who he had called, but an even more welcome sight. It was he who had given the boy everything; schooling for his cunning mind, planets to govern, blades to play with, toys to warm his heart and his cock with. Everything in exchange for a measly bit of affection!

Feyd-Rautha, dressed from neck to toe with not an inch of skin showing aside from his face and hands, loops his arms around his betrothed's waist, chin tilted and leaning against her temple.

"Let me do it." 

Vladimir pales, shuffling in the sloshing bath water as his nephew gently takes the gun from the cursed woman's hand and closes in like a starved viper. His chest rises beneath the full coverage of his suit.

Desperately, the Baron looks at the door.

"My dear nephew, you're falling for a hoax! Do you want to blow up the city?"

Feyd-Rautha stops, still several meters away from the tub. Vladimir seethes.

Anxiously, the relic observes the jittering path of the digital crosshair, weapon out of her hands and out of her control. As Feyd halts, the red mark settles on the Baron's pasty forehead. His aim is perfect.

"You want me dead, then come closer, at least! Look me in the eyes when you do it, my boy." The Baron's tongue flicks out, grey-pinkish flesh, to wet his bottom lip. He wants him so close that he can see the whites in his nephew's eyes before the city blows up. Stripped naked and unarmed aside from the poison needle in the signet ring on his pinkie, he feels more than ever like a heap of flesh, defenseless and abandoned and to his own surprise, it is the latter that hurts most.

Feyd-Rautha doesn't speak.

"Say something, boy! You've had more than enough chances to do this, but you didn't, and I'll tell you why." The Baron raises himself slightly, bulging chest emerging from the inky water. "You don't want to kill your own un—"

The echo of a bang ricochets off the vaulted ceiling and the Baron finds his head knocked back, vision filled with fractured red, his shield dissolved.

With his head rolled on the tub's edge, he can only see the ceiling, and something wet slips over his brow, into his blurry eye. Vladimir had always thought, when Feyd finally manages to kill him, he would ravage his body with blades, take him apart to the last organ, gorge on his flesh while it is still warm. It had almost aroused him.

But his nephew's final touch — denied. 

How cruel.

"You did it!" His betrothed's arms loop around his waist from behind, the embrace hard and stormy, her face against his spine. Feyd still stares in awe at the corpse of his uncle, massive, white flesh afloat obscenely in the tub.

"I did," he confirms, his voice hard, with tremors around the edges.

Feyd feels like he should perhaps burst into tears or yell, but none of the like wants to come out of his heart. The accomplishment might take a few days to feel real. What is entirely real, however, is the face of his darling as she slides to his front and cups his cheeks, overjoyed. The tears that his eyes are missing in his, shimmer distinctly in hers and before he knows it, she has tilted his face down to hers and pressed her lips on his, comforting and needy.

Anxiety melts under soft kisses and tears track down her cheeks, coloring their lips with salt.

"I see you've done us all a favor."

Feyd and his woman snap apart, staring in horror to the ajar door. A few steps into the chamber stands a figure swathed in black like a bad omen on the battlefield. The Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam looks appreciatively at the corpse of Baron Harkonnen.

Even through the mesh of her veil, her sharp eyes perceive the wicked twitch of the na-Baron's hands around the gun.

"Hold still!" She commands and Feyd-Rautha's finger freezes at the trigger.

A pop-up blinks in the corner of the relic's interface, signaling the detection of the soundwave pattern she had picked apart a few weeks ago.

"What are you doing here?" The relic hisses, fingers screwed around Feyd's dangling wrist. She looks a tad haggard compared to when the Reverend Mother had last seen her, with a touch of madness in the eyes.

"My presence was requested by the late Baron and he was right to do so."

"Your presence?" Feyd's voice rings out in distaste, aiming for mockery but rage oozes from every strained muscle. The Reverend Mother sees in him a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.

"I wasn't any less surprised than you are, Baron Feyd-Rautha." She tilts her head and with her moves the crass shadow thrown by her oblong headpiece. "That's how I knew the gravity of the situation. Your uncle was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. He had a feeling you were plotting something, so he requested my help, thinking I was the only one who could."

"But you are too late," Feyd barks, fingers clenching helplessly around the gun. "He's dead!"

"He is. And yet, I arrived perfectly on time." The Reverend Mother calmly crosses her hands in front of her body.

"You could have intervened and didn't?" Horror much bigger than when she had the Baron at gunpoint rises to the relic's chest.

"I must confess, I was… curious." Gaius Helen Mohiam waits but the younger woman remains silent. "How did you do it?"

The engineer laughs out, a sound that's shrill and unpleasant from her clamoring heartbeat. "Sure, I'll tell you and give away the single most valuable piece of information in the universe."

The Reverend Mother purses her lips. The truth is, she had made her decision the second the bullet had passed through the Baron's shield. That knowledge must die and not even reach the ears of her own sisters. Temptation brings out the worst in humans and careful plans are traded all too easily for short-lived power.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha knows too, but he is a force they can control. The wildcard however has no place among them.

"This must not come out," the Reverend Mother declares, her tone a whiplash.

The glint in the wayward woman's eyes tells her everything she needs to know. The terrible relic is not horrified by the idea of throwing the world off balance. She embraces the potential of destruction like a tumor the flesh it feasts on. Thousands of years of selective breeding are at risk at the whims of one wicked catalyst.

"I think maybe it should," the relic snarks. 

"You're an abomination!" Mother Mohiam snaps. "You should have stayed in the ice like the fossil you are."

"You shouldn't have thawed me then. This is your doing!"

And this is why the Reverend Mother must undo it. "There is no place for you here," she coldly proclaims.

"Then watch me make one! I'll carve, dig and shoot a mold for myself and if I end up destroying something on the way, I'm not sorry."

"That I can see, and that is precisely why there is no place for you in this world."

Feyd-Rautha stands at his betrothed's side, a shackled guard dog watching the heated exchange between witch and scientist, between the present and the past which might become the future once more.

"It is a pity," the Reverend Mother continues. "But there will be more opportunities to continue this bloodline." She tilts her head, sharp eyes locked onto the relic through the shroud of her veil. "Kill yourself."

Her interface flashes red, a warning at the center of her vision. For a brief moment, all joy fades from her eyes, all hope, and to end her own life seems to be the only logical consequence — until the code sequence she had programmed weeks prior is triggered into action, playing an opposing sound pattern directly into her skull.

Sound waves meet in destructive interference and only a dull, sad ache behind her sternum remains.

Mother Mohiam grows cold with terror when the abomination remains unmoving and smiles.

"You're full of surprises." The Reverend Mother's tone carries a hint of begrudging admiration. Underestimating her is a mistake she won't make again. The woman whose only ability of notable importance seemed to have been prescient dreams had somehow bested her command. But it doesn't matter. There is never only one way to the goal.

Feyd-Rautha realizes that too, but a second too late.

"Kill her."

The na-Baron slackens and turns, soulless eyes holding no recognition. She releases his wrist. Terror devours her when Feyd-Rautha points the gun at her forehead. And just like before, his aim is perfect. A red glow, visible only to her, bleeds into her vision from between her eyes and she remembers.

He aims with the gun that is linked to her brain. The trigger clicks only half a second after she jams it via remote control.

No bullet breaches her skull and the relic stumbles away from her love who stares at the handgun in confusion, pulling the trigger three more times before discarding the weapon with a dissonant clatter. A muscle tics at his jaw, cat like eyes narrowing into slits and he reaches for his belt. Glinting steel emerges from its sheath, a hissing purr. Her betrothed prowls.

"Feyd, don't—" She pleads, backing away with quickening steps. There is nowhere to go, only the tub where she could hide herself behind the Baron's floating corpse. "It's me, you don't want to kill me. You love me!"

"He doesn't know that," Mother Mohiam coldly reminds her and the relic glares hatefully.

"You're destroying his life!" She sobs, stumbling over the steps that lead up to the bathtub and falling on her bum. "How can you live like this? You're the abomination! He will kill you in revenge, he'll blow up your whole planet!"

Her beloved towers right over her, head crowned by a corona of glowglobe shine, his chiseled features entirely calm, innocent.

"Do it!"

"I'm sorry," she cries. "I love you."

Feyd grabs her by the front of her shirt as she tries to roll away. She squirms and sobs pathetically, helpless with no further tricks up her sleeve, no hidden blade or gun, no voice of her own to wield against him or her.

The Reverend Mother raises her chin in triumph, but all of a sudden, there is movement at the door, at the unsuspecting witch's back.

Mikhail Kyelug comes flying through the door, sword flung out in a wide arch. Right after him sprints Lilia, with Glugo clutching her hand.

The Reverend Mother spins in surprise, lips open, but her words are severed along with her head, terrible voice silenced forever as Mikhail's blade cleaves through her neck and spine with an awful crack. The world spins together with her head. The headpiece comes off, giving away thinning, grey hair. Voicelessly, she curses that her last ever sight is Baron Vladimir's Harkonnen's bloated face, dead eyes locked with dead eyes.

Feyd-Rautha whips around from the racket, blade quivering in his clenched fist. The relic's nails have dug inky crescents into his wrist. For a moment, no one moves and three humans and one humanoid wait with bated breath for Feyd to drop the blade.

But the voice is no link to be severed by the wielder's death, it is a temporary alteration of the brain, and so Feyd's face remains empty, shark eyes glaring at the intruders. Mikhail sees it too.

"Back! Back I say!" He roars and barges like a bull. Feyd-Rautha releases the woman's shirt, facing the threat that is bound to crash into him with hissing metal.

Blades collide.

Lilia jumps over the Reverend Mother's corpse and dashes past the fighting pair to  collect her weeping Lady from the steps. Glugo's hand-feet splatter after her with haste and it picks up the discarded gun, cradling the devious, shiny thing protectively against its misshapen chest.

Glugo had known right away, when it scuttled past the tall, old witch in the hallway and she had commanded it in that terrible voice to leave, that she meant harm. So, it had ran as fast as it could and pulled at Lilia's hands and skirt, because Lilia would know what to do. 

The three of them huddle down in the corner, the relic crying into Lilia's chest. Glugo slips a quivering hand-foot into her palm but its milky eyes are aimed at the center of the room where its friend and Mikhail are grappling and grunting.

By the Sun, the na-Baron fights like a demon! His pupils are shrunken into pinpricks and his mouth is pulled apart into a gashing grin. Mikhail's armor is torn at the shoulder and black blood weeps down his armpit. Every next parry burns as if his muscles were about to tear apart and with the rush of pain comes a rush of clarity.

Fists, not blades. 

Mikhail drops his blood-slick sword and catches the na-Baron's wrist, stopping the tip of the blade centimeters away from his neck. Roaring, he shoves the na-Baron backwards until he collides into the wall and slams the taller man's wrist against the tiles, once, twice. Feyd's blade slips out of his twitching fingers and clatters to the ground as his lips skin back from glinting, black teeth in anger.

Mikhail doesn't hesitate. He drives his thick-knuckled fist into the na-Baron's guts like a battering ram. Wearing no armor, Feyd doubles up, spitting saliva across his own chest. Ringed hands grasp at Mikhail's chest plate, attempting to hurl the guard to the ground, but Mikhail's boot crashes into Feyd's pelvis and scarred knuckles find Feyd's soft cheek. Skin splits open and his molars sink into the soft flesh inside his mouth.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Feyd blurts out, choking on spit and blood, hands raised in the air as Mikhail's final blow cracks across his jaw. He lurches to the ground and rolls on his back in defeat, his eyes clear and wide in terror.

"My Lord," Mikhail pants, raising his bloodied fists in a shaky salute.

"I— I didn't—" Feyd's head turns to the corner where both women are huddled up, Glugo in front of them, clutching the handgun in one of its oily-black hands.

"My darling," Feyd rasps, spluttering blood. "I nearly killed you."

"It's not your fault," she sobs immediately and frees herself from Lilia's embrace. The pair meet in the middle and her arms whip around his neck, his around her waist and he squeezes her until he feels her very heartbeat against his own, convincing himself that she's still alive.

Their foreheads fall against each other and she gently cradles his aching jaw, thumb stroking under the bleeding cut on his cheek. Feyd-Rautha's long, lowered lashes cast shadows across his eyes and something dark and bitter flashes in them.

"No," she insists immediately and her tone forces his eyes back on hers. She won't allow him to hate himself for something he almost did. "We're alive and they're dead. This is our victory."

Next to Feyd-Rautha and his Lady, Lilia has rushed over to her husband, making an endearing fuss over the wound on his shoulder and his bruised hands. Deft fingers have unclipped the shoulder piece and tugged the cut fabric apart to inspect length and depth of the laceration.

"S'fine, my darlin'," Mikhail rasps with exhaustion and slings his good arm around her middle, pulling her into him to place mindless kisses atop of her head.

The relic peeks over Feyd's shoulder and unlatches one hand from her beloved, beckoning for the pair to come closer. "Thank you," she sighs with tear-thick voice.

Lilia confidently seizes the offered hand, thumb brushing comfortingly over her Lady's knuckles. Mikhail stands awkwardly behind her, one hand on Lilia's waist, not daring to touch the woman of higher standing so affectionately. "My Lady."

Feyd-Rautha releases his woman after all and turns to face his saviors. At once, the guard and the handmaid drop to one knee before him and lower their heads in devotion.

"Baron Harkonnen," they mumble in unison and a muscle twitches across Feyd-Rautha's cheek.

"No," he interrupts with grating tone. "Stand up!"

The pair obey, glancing up with confusion as they raise themselves. Feyd-Rautha regards them with a long glance and exhales deeply, then slowly kneels in front of them, pale head rolling forwards until his eyes are trained on the ground.

"Thank you," he says. "You saved her life, and mine."

"My Lord," Mikhail mutters, overwhelmed and looks to the Lady for help while squeezing Lilia's waist. "It was only our duty, eh?" He insists but that is hardly true. Not duty but friendship had hastened their steps and fueled his fists when they barged into the room.

Glugo can no longer contain itself and scuttles over on hasty hand-feet, mewling with worry as it flings four of its eight limbs at Feyd's chest, tugging on the thick fabric while pressing its misshapen pug face against his sternum.

Feyd winces when shiny plastic is waved about right next to his face and he tries to capture the gun out of Glugo's innocent, little hand-foot while cradling the creature's head with one big, pale hand.

"It's jammed," his betrothed reassures him. "Come here, give that to me, hm?" Gently, she grasps the weapon and places it back in its holster.

"Hush, hush," Feyd mumbles and allows himself in a moment of vulnerability to rest his bruised cheek atop Glugo's head while his darling softly squeezes his shoulder.

"It is actually Glugo who deserves your gratitude, my Lord," Lilia reveals and Feyd holds the glugging creature a bit tighter. "It came to me crying and begging and I knew you needed us."

Glugo doesn't know exactly why everyone smells so much of tears and joy, but it knows it did something right and that it is surrounded by the kindest beings it has ever known.

"I wouldn't go near," the relic remarks, stopping Feyd whose prowling footsteps have carried him closer to the round tub in which the fleshy, white mountain of his uncle's corpse still floats, unmoving. "He's radioactive."

"I won't," Feyd grates out, plush lips skinned back from his teeth in distaste. He feels none of the morbid fascination he had always assumed he would feel when his uncle is finally dead by his hands, only a grim, long-awaited sense of accomplishment. Turning his head, he finds Glugo tugging curiously on the dead Reverend Mother's dress. The poor thing does have a penchant for liver after all. Feyd clicks his tongue. "Don't touch that!" 

Glugo scuttles away and back to Lilia's outstretched hand. It will receive a proper victor's feast later, something more worthy of its bravery than an old witch's, rotting corpse.

"I want the bodies completely eradicated, both of them," Feyd demands. Lest they return as Gholas, a voice of paranoia whispers to him, but he is all too happy to listen.

"How?" His woman curls her arm around his middle and Feyd pulls her to his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair before he makes a decision.

"Burn it down," he rasps. "Burn down the whole wing."

In the afternoon hours, the citizens, guards and slaves of Barony are left gawking and gasping, faces turned in shock towards the colossal palace pyramid where vicious smoke curls from the very top, black claws against the crass, white sky. At the na-Baron's behest, no one is to extinguish the wrathful flames. 

Proudly, he watches it burn, the place that holds two decades worth of abuse. The biting smoke soars towards the stars, like the herald of a new age.

I am Time (Death), cause of destruction of the worlds, matured And set out to gather in the worlds here. Even without thee (thy action), all shall cease to exist, The warriors that are drawn up in the opposing ranks.

- Krishna in the Bhagavad Gita

A/N: Killed the baddies with the power of friendship and science 🥹 (2 more chapter to come)

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@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria

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[butlervibesonly]

𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 | Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n's having the time of the month, definitely not feeling good. But that is something Austin couldn't help with.

• Pairing : Austin Butler x female! reader

• Warnings : mentions of period, period pain, ...

It is that time of month again. You wake up to a sharp pain in your lower belly, or so called cramps. Oh, how you hate those. You groan quietly, trying not to to wake Austin up. You reach for the phone on the nightstand with your hand, looking out the window next to Austin's part of the bed. The sun has barely risen yet.

5:13 am. That is way too early. As soon as you put the phone back on the table, your lower stomach cramps again – and that is a sign for you to get up and get some painkillers. You carefully pull off yourself the comforter that you and Austin share and carefully slide out of bed.

When you arrive to the kitchen, you search for the painkillers, and as soon as you find them you pour yourself a glass of water, swallowing the pill. You're probably already awake enough, but it's still very early in the morning, so you go back to the bedroom.

Austin lies peacefully on his back, only in pajama pants so his bare chest shines in the morning breeze. His lips are little parted as he lets out quiet and slow snores. You lay back in bed with a smile. It will take some time for the pill to help and the cramps will continue, hopefully not too long.

Well, you wish for not too long. Another wave of cramps hits you and at this time you whimper more loudly than you would like to. Curling on the bed, you pull your legs to your stomach, shutting your eyes.

That obviously wakes Austin up. He blinks few times, trying to get out of sleep into reality. When he turns his head, he sees you curled up on the bed. "Darlin', what's wrong?" he asks, his voice groggy still so soft. You look at him, whimpering again.

"Um, it's the time, again..." you explain, curling back to your position. Austin hums in understanding. What he actually does is pulling you closer to him. "Did you took a painkiller?" Austin asks, his hand rubbing your back.

"Mhm, few minutes ago," you mumble. "It's going to take forever before it starts any effect!" you complain and Austin chuckles quietly. He turns so he lies on his side, facing you. "Let me help before it starts working."

He runs his hand through the covers as he reaches your stomach. Lifting up your shirt a little he actually spreads his hand on your belly, rubbing on gently circles. You start to feel the warm his hand provides and it feels so better.

"Is it better?" Austin asks, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Yea... Thank you..." He smiles in the kiss, finding you so adorable. "I felt like there was a demon fighting inside of me," you say, jokingly. "My poor girl," Austin runs his finger through your hair.

You both eventually fall asleep again, in each others arms, his hand still placed on your belly.

~ Later that morning ~

When you wake up again, this time it's the sun shining in your eyes. Looking at the bed, Austin is no longer here. He actually notices you're awake so he sits beside you. You can see he's fully clothed, a smile on his face.

"Morning, baby." he pats your leg. You smile, happy to see him. Your stomach no longer hurts but you feel more tired. "What time is it?" you ask, stretching yourself. "Around 9 am. I went shopping and got you some tea that should help with the pain, your favorite chocolate and also…” he pulls something out from behind his back.

"Some flowers." you look at the bouquet of little roses. "Awh! You shouldn't have, Aus!" your heart melts. Austin always knows how to make you happy when you're feeling horrible, and it's no different now.

"Why shouldn't I? I'd do anything for my girl." he plants a kiss on your lips. "Are you feeling better?" Austin asks, placing the flowers on your nightstand. "Definitely better than earlier." you say, sitting up. He pulls you in his arms, kissing you once more again.

"You'll be relaxing today, okay?" he says dominantly, making you smile. "Aight', doctor Butler."

"No, I mean it. You deserve a rest, understand?" You nod. You two spend the morning with breakfast in bed, watching some shows as Austin takes care of you.

[lovemyselfyay]

He’s so husband material

Me and him if life was fair ( it isn’t )

[mgopinoon]

[austinbutlerslovers]

Thankful  

Label Mature 18+

Summary It’s your first big holiday with Austin and you have tasked yourself with planning a dinner to host all of his celebrity friends. Your nervousness keeps trying to get the better of you, but Austin is right there to keep you calm and grounded with his love and support.

Everything is falling into place until you discover his secret that sets your heart racing and leaves you wondering what’s to come.

💝Romantic Smut💝 Loving affectionate• romantic fluff• praises• can’t be without you• body worship•intuition• pleasure bonding• nipple play•clit play•fingering•missionary•overstimulation • orgasms•creampie •aftercare 

🔗Master List

Thankful

The afternoon light filters warmly through the window, casting a soft glow across the room as Austin lifts another box, setting it down with a smile. “What’s next, babe?” he asks, his voice warm and steady which is a grounding presence in the whirlwind of pre-holiday nerves swirling inside you. It’s the first time you’ll be celebrating away from home due to his filming schedule.

You sift through the decorations spread out on the table—ornaments, garlands, golden candles—your fingers pausing over a wooden sign etched with the words, -Give Thanks Always - The sentiment stirs something in you as you trace the carved letters with a small smile. “Maybe this by the window?” you ask, tilting it up, to get his reaction.

Austin steps closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder as he surveys your choice. “That will look perfect,” he says, the approval warm in his voice. His hands slide down to gently squeeze your waist. “Every choice you’ve made is spot-on. You’ve got this holiday thing down .” He compliments.

A small grin spreads across your lips from his praises, though the tinge of uncertainty still lingers. You glance around his sleek New York condo, which feels a little intimidating. The modern furnishings, expansive windows overlooking the city, and the knowledge that all the guests tomorrow evening will be his celebrity friends only add to your nerves.

“I just want to make sure all of your friends are happy with everything—including…me,” you say, trying to sound lighthearted but unable to fully hide the worry of their approval in your voice.

He hears it immediately and turns you to face him, cupping your face with both hands. “Baby, listen to me,” he says, his voice quiet but firm as his eyes lock with yours, filled with unwavering reassurance.

“They’ll love you because you’re everything to me, and they’ll see that,” he says, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. “I can’t wait for them to get to know the person who makes my life better every single day.”

Your lips smile slightly, as his words settle deep in your chest, chasing away the doubt. “You really think so?” you ask softly.

“I know so,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re going to charm them, just like you always charm me,” he says, full of affection.

You nod, a small smile spreading across your lips as you lean into him. “Thank you Austin,” you whisper.

“Always,” he replies and softly kisses you letting his words sink in as you feel the warmth and reassurance of his love melting away all your fears.

He pulls you into a hug, holding you close, his thumbs tracing soothing patterns along your back, and you feel your nerves subside, leaving behind a feeling of safety, and anticipation.

After arranging the last of the decorations, you start clearing the boxes, stacking them near the ladder to have Austin put them away in the storage closet. Wanting so save him time you climb up the step ladder holding a box of decorations, sliding it onto the shelf when your gaze catches a small, unassuming box tucked away behind some spare blankets.

Curiosity piqued, you pull it out, fingertips brushing over the smooth surface before you gently pry it open and feel your breath catch. Inside is a smaller, elegant box—a ring box. Your heart pounds as you stare at it, the implications nearly knocking you off balance.

You quickly steady yourself and open it to reveal a beautiful diamond ring nestled inside. The large stone sparkles brilliantly, set on a delicate platinum band adorned with smaller diamonds that catch the light like tiny stars. You quickly reseal the ring box and put everything back in its place knowing you shouldn’t have see it, but the image is imprinted in your mind, leaving your head swimming and your heart racing.

As you step down from the ladder, you catch sight of Austin coming into the hall, concern etched on his face. “Aw, baby, I wanted to take care of all those boxes. Some of those are so heavy,” he says, his voice soft as his eyes linger on your flushed cheeks. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod quickly, a little breathless, trying to calm the pounding in your heart. “Yeah…—I’m fine,” you reply, your voice softer than usual. “Y-yes some of them are too heavy I picked a lighter one,” you admit, hoping to blame your flustered state on the task.

Austin steps closer, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before an appreciative smile spreads across his face. “You’ve been working hard all day,” he says, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “You’ve really outdone yourself.” He says proudly.

You grin, melting into his embrace, your head tilting back to look at him adoringly. “I couldn’t do any of this without Austin,” you say appreciatively.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Baby, you’re the one who holds everything together for me, and that’s just one of the million things I love about you.”

Your heart flutters at his words as you glance up at him, knowing his little secret.

“Come on, let’s call it a night. I don’t want you wearing yourself out before tomorrow.” He says affectionately.

Later that evening, after a quiet dinner and a glass of wine, Austin takes your hand and leads you upstairs. As you enter the bedroom, he pulls you into his arms, his touch soft yet deliberate.

“You know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear, “I don’t think I tell you enough how lucky I am to have you. How beautiful you are. How much I love you.”

You grin, unable to hide the beaming smile spreading across your face. “Austin, you’re too much,” you whisper, your voice soft with affection.

“Never enough,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich, leaning in to kiss you. His lips are tender and unhurried, caressing yours as if he has all the time in the world. He deepens the kiss, slowly, passionately, building it in waves as his hands cradle your jaw, tilting your face to claim your mouth fully.

Without breaking the kiss his fingers trail down your shoulders, undoing the buttons of your top with deliberate precision. Each touch is accompanied by soft whispers, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence. “Every curve, every inch of you is so beautiful to me.”

Your shirt slides off, pooling it on the floor, followed by your bra as his hands glide across your bare skin, his touch making you shiver. His mouth follows the trail of his hands, kissing along your collarbone taking his time to worship every inch of exposed skin. You’re trembling already, your breaths hitching with each delicate press of his lips.

His fingers teasingly slide down to unfasten your jeans as he gently kisses your nipples.

He sucks tenderly, his lips warm and soft as he lavishes attention on one, then moves to the other with equal care.

Each tug is a gentle pull on your senses, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. His hands roam as his mouth works, pulling your panties down inch by inch until you stand before him naked and trembling with anticipation.

You reach for his hands needing him desperately and he gently catches your wrists, bringing them to his lips. “I know baby,” he whispers, his voice soft, his eyes never leaving yours as he begins to undress.

He pulls his sweater over his head, revealing the chiseled planes of his torso, his body strong and mesmerizing. His pants follow, and when he’s finally bare before you, the intensity of his hard cock makes your knees weak.

He lifts you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed and laying you down with a gentleness that steals your breath. You softly smile at each other as he leans over you, and then his lips find yours again, kissing you softly before trailing down your neck.

“You’re everything to me,” he whispers, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” He says, placing tender kisses down your chest and lower down your stomach, his lips lingering there as your body arches toward him, trembling with need.

Your thoughts spiral as his lips move lower between your hips every kiss unraveling you piece by piece. You feel completely exposed, soft, and vulnerable in the most intoxicating way.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips, a mixture of desperation and anticipation, your body trembling as his kisses your inner thighs. You tilt your hips ever so slightly toward him, silently begging for more. The ache inside of you growing unbearable, as a deep, throbbing need consumes you entirely.

By the time his mouth touches your clit, you’re already soaking wet, your body quivering under his touch. His tongue moves with maddening precision, swirling and flicking as his fingers slide deep inside you, filling you perfectly. The slow, deliberate thrusts of his fingers send jolts of pleasure radiating through your core, each stroke igniting a new wave of heat.

Every flick of his tongue ever pull of his fingers pushes you closer to the edge until you can’t hold back.

He presses his tongue harder and thrusts his fingers faster, curling just right, as a strange, keening moan slips from your lips. Your hands grip the sheets, your body arching off the bed as your orgasm rushes over you.

Wetness pools between your thighs as your body shudders uncontrollably, the slick sound of it only making you flush hotter, your breath hitching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Austin hums with appreciation, his mouth still working against your clit as he loses himself in the moment. “Baby, you’re so wet,” he whispers, his voice strained and filled with awe. “So perfect for me….” He praises his breaths shaky as his lips and tongue continue their relentless devotion.

His words only heighten the intensity, making your body quiver as aftershocks ripple through you, the slickness coating his fingers fueling his passion even further.

“So beautiful,” he whispers , his voice thick with emotion as he finally pulls back. His breaths ragged, his gaze burning with intensity as he looks at you, trembling and undone beneath him.

He places a kiss on your inner thigh, filled with gratitude, before he rises over you. He slowly settles between your legs, his cock pressing against you as his chest brushes yours. His hands find your jaw, cradling your face as he kisses you deeply.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips his voice filled with emotion as he gently pushes his hips forward, his cock gliding into you inch by inch.

The sensation is overwhelming—your entrance so wet, so soft, your walls eagerly glide his thick cock in to you, the slick heat wrapping around him perfectly. The slow stretch around his size only heightens your pleasure, making every inch feel more intimate, more intense.

A deep moan escapes his lips as your bodies press together completely. Your walls grip him tightly, the fullness of his cock sending a shiver through you, the wetness gliding his thrusts effortlessly as you gasp in pleasure beneath him.

He doesn’t rush, his thrusts are slow and steady, his lips finding yours again as he his cock presses your sweet spot between kisses.

“You feel so incredible, baby,” he praises, his voice trembling with desire as his body moves against yours. Each thrust, each kiss, is filled with his devotion, making the moment so tender, so passionate, you feel overwhelmed with emotion.

His hand cradles your face gently, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his hips pull back and thrust into you again, and again, each motion deliberate and deep, making your pulse race. His lips find your throat, pressing hot, lingering kisses against your skin as his pace quickens, the intensity of his need matching your own.

You can’t contain the sounds escaping your lips—soft moans that turn into desperate, breathless cries. Your hips rise instinctively to meet his, each thrust igniting sparks inside you, the tightness in your core building rapidly, teetering on the edge.

Sensing your need, Austin grips your hips, tilting his own to hit the perfect spot again and again. Your walls flutter around him with each deep thrust, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. The tension coils tighter and tighter until your body can’t hold back any longer.

His voice is breathless as it breaks through the haze. “That’s it, baby. Let go for me. Come for me. I’ve got you,” he whispers, and your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your muscles tightening around him as a rush of pleasure explodes through you, leaving you gasping.

Your back arches off the bed as his name falls from your lips in a desperate cry, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as aftershocks ripple through your body.

Austin groans deeply, his movements faltering as your climax pushes him to his own. He kisses you fiercely, his lips catching your cries as he continues to thrust until you feel the hot rush of his come spilling inside you.

He moans deeply against your lips, his breath shuddering as his thrusts soften, letting you feel every last pulse of his pleasure as it merges with your own.

The combination of your orgasms and the lingering aftershocks leave you both trembling, your breaths mingling as you come down from the overwhelming high.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly, his voice thick with emotion as his hands gently stroke your skin, holding you close.

“I love you too,” you reply softly, your voice filled with all the love and trust you feel in his embrace.

The rest of the night is spent with his arms wrapped around you, filled with love and reverence. His affection making you feel cherished and completely his as though nothing else in the world exists but the two of you.

The next evening, the condo buzzes with energy as his friends from the city begin to arrive. The smell of roasting turkey fills the air as everyone brings dishes to accompany the feast—platters of roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, casseroles and freshly baked pies cover the counters.

You flit around the kitchen, trying to make sure everything is perfect. The stress of hosting weighs on you, but Austin is a calming presence, stepping in to help whenever he sees you getting overwhelmed. He sneaks behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “You’re doing amazing. Everyone’s loving it.” His reassurance soothes you, and by the time dinner is served, the table is brimming with delicious food and lively conversation, accompanied by the clinking of glasses.

Seated at the head of the table across from you Austin looks devastatingly handsome in a dark sweater that hugs his broad shoulders perfectly. He watches you with an affectionate smile, his gaze warm and steady as the evening unfolds. After a moment, he rises from his chair with a wine glass in hand, drawing the room’s attention.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” Austin asks, his voice steady and warm as the chatter fades and all eyes turn to him. He looks at you, his expression softening with affection.

“This year has been one of the best of my life,” he begins. “And it’s not because of anything I’ve done. It’s also because of her.” He nods toward you, his gaze locking with yours as awes of admiration spread through the room.

“I just want to say how thankful I am that we can gather here together this evening, and for this incredible woman who somehow made it all look effortless.” He says gracefully.

Words of approval and nods spread around the table as everyone turns to look at you and you can’t help but smile, as your cheeks flushing under the attention.

“She’s the reason every place I go feels like home. She’s the reason I smile every single day. She’s the love of my life.”

The room hums with awe’s as everyone nods and smiles in agreement, their expressions warm. Your heart swells at his words, each one feeling personal and intimate as you gaze at him lovingly.

He raises his glass, his eyes still on you. “So let’s all cheers and give thanks for love, for friendship, and for the people who make life worth living.”

The room bursts into cheers and applause, the sound filling the space as glasses clink and laughter follows. As Austin sits down after the toast the warmth of the moment is still buzzing in the air as you meet his gaze across the table. His eyes are soft, filled with love and unspoken emotion, and your heart races as his words echo in your mind.

He smiles warmly, and there’s an anticipation in his expression that makes your heart flutter. You secretly know what he’s waiting for, and the thought makes you grin. He’s eager to pop the question soon, and he’s waiting for the perfect day.

You hold his gaze, feeling a spark of excitement build in your chest. The promise in his eyes leavening you giddy with anticipation for what’s to come.

🍁 END

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[oopsiedaisiesbaby]

So I’ve been watching a lot of Austin’s interviews on YouTube the last few days and something that’s stick with me is how literally every man in his life is absolutely besotted and in love with him. Like the director of Bikeriders called him “the most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life” and Baz Luhrmann (or another one of his directors I can’t remember) said that whenever he walks into a room everyone falls in love with him and another one tells everyone else before they work with him “oh you’ve got to meet him he’s so lovely you’ll absolutely fall in love with him”

And it’s like this boy has grown ass middle aged to old men wrapped around every one of his slender dainty pretty fingers, he really does. He can just act all bashful and look up through and bat his pretty blonde eyelashes at any man and they’d literally do anything for him, and the thing is he KNOWS it and don’t tell me that he doesn’t take advantage of that sometimes, because he absolutely does. I just think he can be a gigantic tease when he wants to be because he knows the power he has over everyone. Like he definitely flirts with men he knows are besotted with him to rile them up and have them contemplating their entire lives. Like dangling the carrot in front of their faces but never letting them actually get it. Gives them just the tiniest taste but not enough so that they are convincing themselves they’re making it all up in their own heads or reading him wrong, looking too into it.

It really seems like everyone just falls madly in love with him and I cannot even imagine how sweet and genuine a person has to be to make that happen ❤️ Like, he’s pretty but the devotion he inspires??? Unreal and I just can’t even wrap my brain around it 😄

[mrsniallhoran505]

Good Morning Austin Girls!

Theme 774: this is for my enjoyment

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[aust-een]

MISSIN HANK BAD

[austinslounge]

didn't austin say he would've been a chef too?

Lol, you know what, I kind of feel like I vaguely recall him saying something to that effect in an interview once. Does anyone recall which interview?

I know he says he definitely likes to cook. 😏

A guy who's hot and likes to cook? And reads poetry? And plays piano and guitar? And who is actually sweet and not a jerk?

I swear, Austin was designed with a woman in mind lol. 🤣