The Mood Board In Itself Deserves A Repost... So Pretty 🥺 So Vibey ✨️

The mood board in itself deserves a repost... so pretty 🥺 so vibey ✨️

|| Miming Normalcy

Pairing: Gale x OC (Maureen Kendeigh)

Note: for everyone who, last year, begged for more Gale smut in this universe, here it is. It had to wait in drafts with all its friends due to needing some other segments published to make this one make sense, although this one is all porn, little plot. No for real, it’s nasty af and this boy hasn’t gone to therapy but there’s also love. Lots of love. And smut. Again, not much plot to be missed here 😏

Warnings: nasty af, if this ain’t your jam, please avail yourself of the exit, I get fully it. 18+ for smut, also vague allusions to past abuse, gender confusion and the inner turmoil of a Bi man in the 1940’s, Gale Cleven being a dream sub boy after a long days work? Uh, that’s probs all? Squirting? No PIV sec just handies, etc. If that’s not your jam, again, feel free to bail 💋

Circa: 1946

On these days Maureen often picks him up. The bike is not a fitting mode of conveyance for a man moonlighting as a respectable officer, and though he often gets ribbed by his new navy buddies for his missus picking him up like a kid at school: Maureen is a busy woman. She goes about town, she works at the school and she needs the car while Gale is trapped at one place for work, or else up in the sky, for nine hours a day -what’s he need the car for during that time?

And something about the easy-hearted ribbing does him good, no one knows him here, not well enough to think twice about being delicate or nice or to take care not to push his buttons.

Gale likes how utterly regular he is here, he likes what an old man he’s become, another veteran who thinks he knows best and already has a wife who pulls up and ensures he has to go home so he can’t go to the bar with the cadets. Maureen plays her part admirably, pulling up to the sidewalk with her end-of-the-day cosmetics glowing just a tad too shiny from the salt air and heat, with her eyes happy to see him and her mouth authoritative about not letting the meatloaf get cold in a way that scares his cadets worse than anything he could ever do.

Gale enjoys enacting the sheepish dip of his head into the car, the wasteful blast of coolant on his blushing cheeks as he folds himself into the passenger seat: the future evening of word games and domesticity and sexless reserve that his boys anticipate for him.

This too feels like a game, one just humiliating enough to make him feel utterly known, just dangerous enough to feel alive, abundantly tender enough to make him feel cherished.

Maureen drives all this way back and forth, morning and evening along their coastal highway, to ferry him to work and she does it because they’re married and she for one likes to act like it.

One handed she pulls them away from the curb, white glove on a white lacquered wheel, she’s fucking perfect and Gale knows what’s beneath those gloves and his mouth waters at this game once more. One handed she pulls away and the other hand waves to his boys, self aware and chirpy and pitying all at once at their bachelordom. Single handedly she steers away into the roundabout lanes that form the circle in front of the base while waving, single handedly she drives the car into the bend when her gloved and waving hand drops and grips Gale’s crotch like a loving vice.

Hot electric reasoning shoot up his thighs and he feels like he’s breathing for the first time today, first time at least since he made his last touchdown today. Alive, wheels skidding along a tarmac, cadet scared shitless and proud in front, with Gale as the useless clapping squad in back.

Such was the life of a flight instructor.

Her hand makes it all very real, very satisfying, something worthwhile. He feels his blood rush. The feeling is not just in his thighs anymore.

“Wave to your boys, dear.” she teases him but her hand is no joking matter and it tightens against him until he manages a fuck-off sort of wave and Maureen vocalizes a small sound of happy approval before gunning it onto the Boulevard.

And that’s Gale’s day done, no more need to be good or perfect, he’s waved the boys off and put in his shift and he’s done now. He feels like he’s melting into the seat, his head thudding back against the leather headrest -a deep red like all the accents in this white car’s interior, except for the white steering wheel, and even it juts out from a white lacquered steering dash. Maureen is still spinning the damn well and easily grasping him with the other gloved hand. His legs fall further open, his droopy eyes utterly transfixed by the glint of her wrist watch on her tanned skin, peeking out from the gloves hem.

“Fuck.” Gale heaves out at the sight, he loves this little life they play at, he loves her gloves and her old army watch; the way she drives a car like a man and palms at him before he’s even waved goodbye to his green recruits. He tries to hold on to this moment, the feel of her palm rubbing circles on his cockhead, dragging his slacks across tender skin in a circle that mimics that of her other hand taking the wheel around a turn, the feel of salt air hitting his nose when they turn into the highway, headed home, no groceries to be gotten, no friends to see. He loves this little life and he tries to remember that, to remind himself he’s got nothing to be running from as often as he does. Who’d want anything else. It makes no sense at all. He’s never going to again.

His heart clenches at the lie. What kinda fucked is he to leave this. Because he’s going to again, just like he did three months ago and seven before that. He can almost feel the crawling itch spreading beneath his skin.

“Don’t cum in my car.” Maureen registers the tenseness that takes over him, and Gale’s head that was growing all too jumbled with itchy thoughts, suddenly stills into a muffled fog, the itch flees from his forearms and calves and instead he can feel his cock wagging against her knuckles in a pathetic attempt to dribble out a little more of the pressure. One crease of a thigh feels wet, he must be leaking everywhere.

They pass the Seashell Motel’s freshly painted sign with its blue and pink lettering and he knows he’s got ten minutes ahead. He’s not at all sure he can hold on but then: first day of work when she first did this -first time she picked him up and grabbed his cock and told him to wave and then drove one handedly home- he had talked back and told her to stop touching him if she wanted him to last.

“Thought you prized discipline, Major Cleven.” his wife had retorted, “Or maybe that was only in the Air Force.”

With all the hurt pride of a newly minted Navy man, Gale had taken that personally and gritted his teeth and dug bloody crescents into his palms, braced his feet to the floorboards and when Maureen put it in park he had staggered out hard as a rock onto their home dock and into their boat house and hadn’t made it three feet before she flicked open his belt, pulled him out, dropped to her knees, tapped his puffy pink head on her lower lip and he’d shot his load on her tongue.

He’d not cum in the car, though.

He won’t today either, he puffs out his cheeks and he sees Maureen dare to look away from the flat stretch of road to glance his way, he looks stupid and she looks so loving and then her eyes flick back to the road and he lets his breath out in a low whistle. It calms the inevitable spurt between his legs but it also clears the fog in his head, six miles out from home and he’s starting to think thoughts again and if he was a man of impulse he might whine over that development.

The sharp bolt of pleasure that is Maureen’s nailless thumb thing into his slit banishes them and he groans, thankful and close, it gets lost in the road noise and the rushing delight of the sea air roaring through the open windows. She’s going far faster than fifty five miles an hour and Gale lolls his head to the side and watches her firm chin and the posture of her driving and his heart thuds hard in his chest. Her nose that turns up just so.

He wants to kiss it. He has become a man of impulse in some ways. So long as those ways aren’t too pathetic. Hauling himself upright and over the middle seat and into her space and turning the face of a driving motorist to his own so he can, in fact, kiss her nose, doesn’t seem pathetic at all, it’s risky and it’s rash and Gale loves the way she doesn’t even flinch or pull away. When he senses the kiss has lasted long enough to endanger others if not themselves, he pulls away and Maureen’s eyes are on him briefly and not the road when he pulls out of her line of sight.

“My sweet boy.” she murmurs and looks back to the road, the hand once happily torturing him, securing him in place, tethering him to the earth, raises up and pets his cheek before her gloved fingers slip into his mouth and pull his head down to the seat, to her lap. He goes, lets her slide her fingers over his tongue, realizing the salty wetness already there is his precum. Gale wishes he could suck her off on some coastal road trip, he closes his eyes, feels the rough fingers thrusting closer down his tongue, tastes the salt, imagines it and his hips cant futile and desperate into the air.

“That’s it, that’s it, feels so nice, such a warm mouth, huh?” she mutters above him and he is fully afloat now, it feels so good with the car seat vibrating beneath his back, his cock drooling uselessly against his leg beneath his trousers and Maureen thrusting her fingers into his mouth. “You’re gonna make me cum.” she gasps suddenly, almost a reprimand she sounds so surprised, Gale just moans and almost falls to the floorboard when she turns without shifting down, the pitted road a sure sign they’re home. She takes her spit soaked hand and grasps the gear shift, slowing the car properly for the residential stretch of gravel and Gale’s heart clenches at the sight of her grasping the thing. He’s fully lost it and he laughs at himself.

She laughs too. Fully in on it, but far more eager and desperate than him as the car lurches to a stop.

“Do I need to get your door?” she sounds perfectly willing and after regaining thought for enough moments to remember he can in fact sit up, open his door and walk out without her, Gale grunts in the negative. “Alright.” she allows and he does just that, with a grunt and a hiss at how alive his body is and he follows her out of the glinting late afternoon sun, across the dock, along their own little ramp with its pretty painted decals and into the bobbing little structure they call home.

The door clicks and Gale almost hits his knees before she tells him to. She does though, kindly but he’s already going and on a technicality he might be forgiven as obeying an order but they both know he was at it first.

“I need to cum.” she tells him and part of the usual instructions are left out and he is puzzled by that. Puzzled still when she is right up to him, undoing her pleated trousers right at eye level, his head knocking back into the small piece of wall furniture that holds their mail on top and their various boots and shoes below. Puzzled when she shucks her pants and nothing else, props a foot up on the side piece furniture and instead of dragging his face to what he can see is a glistening mass of auburn curls, just grabs his hair and keeps his face bent back, it’s so reminiscent, so male he feels the want surge down his spine once more and, no longer supported by a car bench seat, his drawn up balls throb in his slacks with an excruciatingly acute need.

He focuses on the familiar yet mildly wrong hand in his hair, he zones in on the glittery pink expanse of her, folded and open and womanly, he licks his lips with surety that he can taste her by mere proximity, and quietly looses his mind when she puts her gloved hand back to his mouth and tells him, “Help me take them off.”

Cotton mouthed and with a tongue weighing a ton, Gale nips at the glove’s fingers, careful in his haste not to nip the fingers themselves and after a few rushed and failed attempts he cools himself and tries again, resolute and determined like he should be and he hears her hum in approval as the fabric peels off.

“Perfect.” she commends him, her typical hoarse voice gone so deep it makes him shudder, and her hand slips out of the glove that is still clenched between his teeth and it comes out a perfect patchwork of ugly white scars on tanned flesh and Gale longs for them to be near his mouth again. “Drop it, darling.” she tells him and it takes a minute for the order to sift through his faux realities but it does in time, and he lets the glove go from between his teeth. It lands on the floor between them, sodden and unheeded. “I need these slick.” she’s presenting her bare fingers to him and he pulls against the tug of her other hand in his hair to obey, it makes her laugh at his eagerness and he knows she’s pleased but she is the one to bring them to his face, to work with the tilt she has on his head, to breach his lips and slide them along his tongue.

He moans like he’s the one getting blown. He lets it be messy, like he learned how, let’s the spit collect and let’s it slick her up like she liked, lets the nosies slap about their small home and his eyes close to appreciate that wet chorus like he’s not the one doing it. He feels so good he could float away on it.

“Open your eyes, sweet boy, open them for me.” Maureen’s one leg must be aching from holding all her weight, her other still propped up in his face by the foot near his head. “Need you to watch this, see how much you make me want you- how good you are at this, need you not to miss your reward.”

Gale licks his lips, ready for his hair to be released, for the tug to bend his neck downwards, for the salty sweet taste of a woman on his tongue.

But she doesn’t move him, she keeps him there and the hand on his mouth leaves and comes between her own legs, right at his line of sight, and there she thrashes her spit soaked hand against the puffy bud between her legs and a flick of the wetness flies and hits his cheek. He can hear the sound he makes. It’s inhuman and wanting and dark and he cannot claim it as his own at this moment but he thinks he won’t be able to breathe much longer if she won’t let him taste her, he thinks it’ll break his heart if she ends this little fiction right now and lets him lick her. He doesn’t know what he wants but he feels utterly known right now as his wife holds his face up and -well if she were a man, if she were Bucky, if he were Bucky, he’d call it jacking off, she’s jacking of on his face. He can’t seem to even swallow his own spit at the moment.

Maureen sounds like she’s torturing herself quite briefly, there’s no way she can keep up that frantic friction of her hand for long but it seems to be killing her as is and she starts letting out little cries that are nothing like the sweet helpless ones he digs out of her womb when he’s inside her. “Here it is baby, here it comes, so good for me, so good you’ve made me crazy, open that pretty mouth Gingerale, open that mouth up so I can—“

Claim it, yes yes, he thinks, claim it, coat it, fucking ruin me please.

“Mine, you’re mine.” she swears to him and he turns it vicious and jealous in his head just to make the high last longer, to add to the effect and then to his shock, he feels the wet spray of her on his face, her hand still rubbing frantically as little clear spurts of pleasure fling out and across his face, wet and salty and it could be a man or a hose or his wife it’s so nebulous a drenching, but it is his wife and Gale’s tongue about tears itself out of his own mouth in his angst to catch it all. What it doesn’t catch tickles his cheeks and collects in his lashes and drips from his chin into the proper navy collar of a respectable man. She makes noises as she calms down, a few jerking cries as the last gushes squirt out.

Her leg falls from beside his head, her bare thighs shaking terribly and he can’t move a inch, her hand still so tight in his hair. Panting down at him, her face is almost as deep a red as her hair. She takes her foot and presses it to his crotch and he makes a sound that should belong strictly to dogs. “So good for me,” she pants, her voice wrecked and his heart hasn’t managed a beat in half a minute, he’ll be ok though, she’ll see to that, “I want you to come now. Now you’ve made me feel so good.”

It should probably take more but it never does. Gale’s hips jerk against her foot and she lets his head go and he sags forward, face buried into her belly where her silky mauve shirt bunches up and he moans for the long while it takes for all of it to ooze out unprovoked. His wife pets him all the while, one hand sweetly combing through his hair, the other firm on his neck, not letting him straighten up until he’s truly through. It’s just the right side of demanding and Gale typically clenches and jerks through it for an insufferable amount of time and comes to while slumped against her hip utterly satisfied.

“There really is meatloaf this time.” Maureen tells him after what could be two minutes or an hour, and she sounds herself again if a little hoarse. “And I’m getting worried for your knees.”

He pulls away and sniffs, face tacky from tears and- female ejaculate, he supposes, stunned and yet accepting. They’ll need to talk. Not now though. Right now he thinks of standing up and he is supported in that mission only by the feel of Maureen’s hand carding through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“It’s Tilly’s recipe.” she informs him, very happy, very natural, very wifely.

Feeling comes back to Gale’s legs in painful pinpricks. He puts his hands on her hips and heaves himself up until he is his full height and she is staring up at him calm and deceptively careless. “I’m gonna shower.” he tells her, booping her nose as he cannot fathom kissing her with a face this sticky, and she nods in agreement, knowing he’s not fully back but will be, knowing he’s got her pinned somewhere between wife and- it doesn’t matter anymore.

“I’ll set the table.”

“Alright.”

She sets the table, he showers. He leaves the door open so she can come in if something bad happens to him in there. Nothing bad happens. The itch doesn’t come back at all that night. They get some ketchup on the crossword puzzle but it’s alright. It’s their home, they can do what they damn well please. Gale can’t recall why it is he ever wants to leave.

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Fantasy Come True Ch 7/8

Chapter 7: Confessions

Chapter Warnings: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, angst, Unprotected PiV (play safe ya'll), cunnilingus, fellatio, overstimulation, light restraint, fingering, light ass teasing (F. receiving), wee bit of delicious mind fuckery

Series Summary: Breaking into the acting world has been a life long dream. It's been tough, plus your relationship with you partner has some struggles, but who doesn't have struggles. A new guy shows up to your improv classes who seems strangely familiar. He seems rather interested in you and you feel unusually comfortable around him, like he projects calm and reassurance. Once you realize who he really is, and what he really likes... it's game on.

SERIES WARNING: Explicitly mature content, 18+ only, here there be lemons.

A/N: This little gem is per request for the lovely and talented @purejasmine . It's been a collaborative project designed to meet her every Austin need as best I can. Here's to you darling! <clink> I hope ya'll enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed the creative process with parameters not wholly my own!!

Here is the Masterlist of this series.

Chapter 7: Confessions

You did, in fact, make it to his bed before morning was over, however you didn't make it out until much, much later. Lying in the aftermath of being fucked mercilessly into the mattress, he asks about the scenes you are going to tape. You two spend a little time working on your scenes naked in bed. You have one dramatic and one comedic. You run through lines and talk about character motivations. His insights and process are invaluable to you. Some analogies he makes are a little out there or just not familiar to you, but you take it all in.

“What if,” he says, talking about your character's motivations, “she just wants to do whatever she is told because it’s THAT important to her. It’s not that she is powerless, but that she will do whatever she has to, even if it means giving over her power. But in doing that, she is freed to get what she wants. Y’know?”

“No, I don’t get that, giving up the thing that she wants is how she gets it?” you say.

“It's like dominant/submissive play, but without the sex, do you see?” he asks.

“Not really, I don’t think there is an undertone of sex in the scene,” you counter.

“No it’s not really about sex per se, but… it’s just an idea of how to look at the scene. How do you see it?” he asks, letting the Dom/Sub thing go.

After, you entice him into the shower, kissing and washing each other. You are mostly just enjoying the closeness, the touch of his hands on your skin and the feeling of being pampered.

“I’m in the mood for a movie, should we have some snacks and watch something?” Austin says as you are toweling off.

“Sure, I’m down!” you say excited. You love to watch movies.

Austin tells you to go pick something out as he puts together a plate of apples, cheeses and prosciutto. You decide to watch Kingsman: The Secret Service, it’ll be silly and fun. He brings over two sparkling waters, the plate, and a paring knife.

You snuggle up on the couch with his back between your bare legs. You had never bothered putting your clothes back on, just a bra and panty set that you were super excited about finding, as they fit you perfectly, even if they were pricey. You are leaning up against the back of the couch. Austin, in solidarity with your penchant to wander the house in your underclothes, is also clad only in boxers. His long legs stretch onto the oversized ottoman. The plate is on his lap and Austin cuts pieces of apple and cheese, holding them and prosciutto up for you to nibble on. His warm body against your chest is heaven, the clean smell of him all encompassing.

You have never felt so content, and yet a deep longing bubbles up from within. THIS should be your everyday life. Comfortable sized home, man that adores you and loves to pleasure you, delicious food, the craft of acting and storytelling intertwined in everyday life. You let out a big sigh pushing away melancholy thoughts of your supposed ‘ real life’. Your fingers tangle gently with his hair, massaging his scalp, anchoring you to the here and now and the magic of having Austin’s skin on yours.

“Mmm, I think I’m hungry,” he growls sexily out of the blue.

“Hungry?” you glance at the now empty plate as he sets it aside,”What can I get from the kitchen for you babe, I’ll feed you this time,” you offer.

“That’s not what I’m hungry for, my amazing Princess,” he twists his head around to look up at you with a naughty smile, “but I'll take you up on feeding me.”

He flips over onto his stomach.

“Oh, should I pause?” you ask, picking up the remote.

“Oh no,” he pushes the ottoman away with his feet, “ you keep watching Angel.” He sinks down to his knees on the plush carpet. “I just need this irresistible pussy in my mouth,” he threads his arms under your thighs and yanks your ass to the edge of the couch,” right now.” His face is a picture of nearly animistic lust.

Your eyes get big as he grabs the paring knife and swiftly inserts the blade on the fabric at your hip.

“Like, right now,” he pulls up, slicing through the fabric.

He answers the look of scandalous shock on your face with a gruff, “I’ll replace them ten times over Princess, I just can’t wait any longer to taste you.” He does the same to the other side, his chest expanding with his needy breath, the fabric laying open to reveal your groomed vulva.

His urgency stokes a fire in your belly, your potential outrage at his destroying your underclothes sizzling into inflamed desire. You hadn’t been super wet before, when you were just cuddling, no more than your usual when you are with Austin. But when he grabbed and pulled you toward him, the buzzing down below commenced. When he cut your favorite panties from your body, you practically gushed.

He nuzzles right into your mons, inhaling your scent, smiling. His tongue takes a big, long lingering taste of your lips.

“Mmmggghhh, yes” he moans against you, eyes closed, “your juices are like heaven.”

His head moves up and down as he laps at your labia, dipping in for growling tastes as his hands grip at your thighs, almost like a cat digging in its claws. His tongue tantalizes as it draws teasing circles around your clit. His fingers pull you apart, revealing your sweet inner lips to his hungry tongue.

Just the pressure of his fingers on your lips pulls a soft whining moan of anticipation from your throat. You have one hand curled, fingers between your teeth. The other hand mutes the movie letting it play on unheeded, before twirling his locks around your fingers.

He lifts his eyes to yours.

“I want to make you cum in my mouth, Angel, but I’m going to take my time,” he says. A one sided, open-mouthed smile blooms on his wet lips and he winks.

Something about his wink makes your breath melt away from you in a soft-voiced ‘unghgh’. Your brows furrow together and all you can do is nod in agreement as his ocean eyes glimmer at you from under his long lashes. Your fingers tighten inadvertently in his hair. You feel as much as hear the little chuckle of amusement he gives against your pussy as his lips meet yours.

Long and lightly he drags his tongue up then sucks at your clit just as lightly. It’s so soft as to be almost a tickle, but one that leaves you desperate for more. Luckily, he is here for the eating of your pussy, and willing to give you as much as you want.

He continues his long, slow licks ending in suction on your clit until the sounds you are making and your hand fisting in his hair are clear indications that you need more.

He pushes his long finger inside you. He moans at how wet you are, how hot, how tight.

He slides his coiling finger out and in, licking your clit lightly.

You are sure there will be teeth marks left on your bottom lip when he closes around your clit, sucking you into the vacuum of his mouth.

He falls into a slow rhythmic pace of licking and sucking and shifting his finger in and out with a delicious little curve of his fingertip. All the while, his soft vocalizations of pleasure drift up to your ears. The wet smacking sounds of his suction off your clit drives you wild. He is unhurried, like he could do this for the rest of time.

You try to inhale a big breath, but it catches up in short, little pants. Tingling tightness loops inside you with every drag of his tongue, every immersion of his digit, every wet and sloppy sound as he sucks at your nub.

Slowly you climb that ramp like a click-clack of a roller coaster, every moment bringing you closer to that plummet into ecstasy. Then you are there, on the cusp. Falling, falling, falling, and he keeps his measured pace of feasting at your cunt. Your body goes tight, eyelids fluttering, vagina clamping onto his finger. Little grunts shake your body.

Spurred on by your climax, he pulls his finger out and buries his face in you, fingertips wrapping under and digging into your thighs. His mouth sucks greedily at your entrance, not wanting to waste a drop.

His hips are pumping against nothing, his deep moans vibrating against you, heightening your orgasm. He looks up with dark eyes, face messy. You watch as his wet finger disappears into his mouth and he sucks all your juices off it.

“Do you want my cum, Princess,” he says low, looking for all the world like a feral predator.

“Yes, ple-,” is all you get out before he stands up, pulling you with him. His mouth closes over yours in a hard, salty kiss, you don’t even notice that he has turned you around in the process.

“Far be it from me to deny my Princess what she wants.” He says against your lips. His rock hardness is pressed against your belly, you don’t remember him taking his blue boxers off. Still a little dazzled from your orgasm, you reach out to stroke him, but he grabs your wrist.

“Now, now, if you want it, you’ll do as I say,” his demeanor suddenly changes entirely. He seems taller and more commanding. Your eyes narrow for a second, wondering what he’s playing at, then you recognize the line from the scene you had been working on.

“And if I don’t?” you ask in quiet defiance, pulling out your character and the next line.

“Oh”, his look has a tinge of evil in it, ”I assure you, you’d prefer to follow my directions, Pet,” he adds the nickname to the line.

“Now,” he lets go of you and leans back away from you, “turn around.”

His voice and the serious look in his eye, make you lose your breath just a bit. You turn your back towards him, pressing your thighs together, still sensitive from his oral ministrations.

“Bend over,” his words are neatly whispered in your ear, “all fours.” He isn’t pulling lines from the scene now, just commanding you. Clearly he is thinking about his earlier point.

You hear him sit down on the couch, or would if you hadn’t been gulping so hard. Why did just his tone make you clench?

“Open up further, I want to see,” you hear from behind you.

You step your knees apart.

“Wider,” you feel a finger tip brush your inner thigh, it’s like electricity zig-zagging to your core.

“Push those gorgeous hips back.”

You do, in sort of a puppy pose with your back arched. You feel so deliciously exposed to him.

“Oh, that IS a pretty pussy,” he says almost to himself, then louder, “open it up for me.”

Balancing on your left arm, you reach between your legs and use your fore and middle fingers to spread apart your labia. His spit is beginning to dry on your outer lips. However, the glistening of your inner lips betrays to him how much you are turned on by being told what to do.

‘Now, “ a little rasp of desire sneaks into his voice, “finger yourself.”

Suddenly, you feel unexpectedly hesitant, like this is pushing you out of your comfort zone for some unfathomable reason. You are fine touching yourself, even fine doing it in front of him, but there is something about being so vulnerable bent over and exposed. You are stopped in your tracks, trying to figure out why you feel this way out of the blue.

“Do you still want my cum?” you can almost hear his eyes narrowing in his voice.

“Oh lord yes, Austin,” your tone boarding on begging. Just his name out of your mouth is scintillating. His words snap you out of your hesitation.

You feel his thumbs hold you open, his finger splayed out over your ass and hips bones.

“Then finger yourself,” he insists.

You move your middle finger to slide slowly through your wetness.

“Yes,” he breathes, “just like that. God that is beautiful.”

After a couple minutes, he leans his body over your back, his breath hot on your neck.

“Do you trust me, Pet? “ his hips tuck forward. His hard dick nudges almost lazily against your crotch.

“Yes,” your voice wavers slightly. You stop your finger movement.

“Are you sure?” you can hear his sexy smirk. You twist to look over your right shoulder at him, and are met with a mischievous glint in his eyes. The little dimple that appears over the left corner of his mouth evaporates any equivocation.

“One hundred percent, Austin,” you give in totally.

“That’s my good girl, my sweet Pet,” he croons sweetly in your ear. “Keep fingering yourself,” his tone back to demanding as he moves back to watch you.

As you slide inside yourself again, rubbing over your clit. You smile at his words, at being his good girl.

He is petting the back of your opening, pulling at your wet, pink inner lips. You feel his finger sink in next to yours. He moves in opposition to you, when you go in he pulls out, and vice versa. Fuck, the extra friction is so good.

Then he pulls out and up and you feel his wet finger drag unexpectedly over your asshole. It makes you jump forward.

“Tch, I thought you trusted me,” he admonishes, grabbing your hand.

“I do, Yes, I do” you pant, “ I just…oh!” you feel his tip nudge again against your wet pussy. He gives you no time to finish your sentence.

“Good,” is all he says as he slowly pushes in. “Ohhhh,” he lets out his breath in a long low groan. Your hand lingers, playing with his balls as he sheathes himself fully.

His wet thumb returns to your asshole, just placed there no rubbing, no teasing. You are still a little nervous about what he might do, you aren’t really into things in your butt. But you DO trust him, you remind yourself.

At this angle his cock feels long, prodding your cervix, making you groan.

“Do you want it, beautiful Angel?” his deep reverberations are almost hypnotic, “do you want my cum inside you?”

All you want is for him to fuck you into next week, but he just stays still, dick in you deep, thumb on your ass.

‘I do, yes, give it to me baby, please,” affirming in all the ways you can think of in your Austin-addled state.

“Give?” he questions with an incredulous smile, “ Oh no, you have to come get it, my sexy little cum slut.” The fingertips on his free hand push you slightly forward, then wrap around the front of your hip bone guiding you back. Once you get the gist he takes his hand away.

You can’t help but move on him.

“That’s it, pretty Princess,” his voice is hot caramel pouring over you,”fuck it out of me.”

Your breath leaves you with an ‘oh fuck’ as his words incite a sexual riot in you.

On all fours, you rock back and forth in front of him, along his length. As you rock on his cock, you rub your asshole against his thumb. It’s unexpectedly good. So good, you let go being jumpy about your ass. Your body wants what it wants.

“Oh look at you,” his sexy voice rolling over you, “so greedy for my cock, so starved for my cum, and it's only been a couple hours.” His breath huffs from him in rising passion, ”grinding your ass against my thumb, all hot and wanting. Fuck you are mesmerizing, Princess.”

He starts to lose his own control, unable to stop thrusting into you. “You make me so… fucking… hard. I just want you all the damn time.”

You are moving in synchronicity, his cock in you and you back on his cock. His thumb is giving you that glorious friction, your fingers on your clit; it’s a whirlwind. A veritable tornado of friction, desire, perfect mind-fuckery and magic; Austin Butler magic.

Your pussy clenches hard around him.

“Oh fuck, that’s good,” he groans.

You hear yourself moaning loud Uhhghh’s and Ohhhh’s as you undulate in front of him. You jerk forward involuntarily as your orgasm hits you hard.

Austin’s hands clamp down on your hips, riding you down. There is no way he isn’t filling you with his cum now, no matter how long it takes.

Groaning into the upholstery of the ottoman, you continue to be pounded from behind. He simultaneously holds you down and spreads your cheeks with his hands. Fucking hell, at this angle he is triggering all your buttons and you keep cumming. It’s so good.

He sounds feral behind you. The moans hissing out through his teeth become deep chested growls that become open voweled groans as he fucks you harder and harder. Sweat drips onto your back.

You are losing your mind. Your fingers, trapped under you, are twitching against your clit, you want to stop them, but just can’t quite get them to still.

Finally he pushes in deep, muscles straining. All sound frozen in his lungs, until his deep growls and groans of satisfaction make their exodus from him to wash over you. His hips jerk pushing him just that much deeper as he empties into you.

“I guess,” he pants just behind your ear, “I gave it to you after all.”

“I love it,” you just barely stop yourself from saying ‘I love you’.

Still in you, Austin rolls onto his side, clinging to you like you are the only refuge in his personal storm. You curl up in the cradle of his arms. Taron Egerton is cleverly, yet silently, kicking ass on the TV, although you are both too blissed out to give it any mind.

When you wake up from dozing some time later. When had you fallen asleep? You find that you have rolled over in Austin’s arms to face him. He is petting your hair and holding you to him. He has a weird look on his face, like conflicting thoughts are running through his mind. Once he sees your eyes on him, he smiles big.

“Good nap?”

“Oh lord yes,” you stretch and sit up. “I’ll be right back,” you stand up, but Austin grabs your arm.

“I mean it,” he blurts out. The words clearly by passing his conflicting thoughts and going straight to his mouth.

“What do you mean, Austin,” your brow furrows slightly. Your hand automatically cradles his face.

“I meant what I said, when we were…” his eyebrows lift, conveying his meaning for him, “I want you all the time, I want you here, to stay here, to be with me always.”

“What?” you are dumbstruck by this sudden confession.

“Move in with me, be mine,” his hand covering yours on his face.

Your heart jumps in your chest. It’s like every dream you’ve ever had is being plopped into your lap. You blink once, twice, unsure what to say or do next. Then your bladder reminds you why you got up in the first place.

“I need,” you gesture towards the bathroom,”be right back.”

Sitting in his beautiful little powder room, you attempt to absorb this new information. You had literally been thinking about wanting this life. The fires of hope that spring in your heart are quickly doused by your practical mind.

‘Is this stable? Is it smart to leave all else behind and move in here?’ it asks. Fucking fuckity fuck. You look at yourself in the mirror.

“God dammit,” you whisper to yourself, knowing you can’t ignore her, as much as you want to. As much as you hate it, you rely on your partner financially right now and that is, if not a satisfying life, a safe one. Your sense of self preservation insists that you make sure this isn’t some two month infatuation that will leave you in the cold.

As you walk back into the living room in nothing but your bra, Austin is sitting naked on the couch with his head in his hands. The TV is off.

You sit down in front of him on the ottoman.

“Did I just ruin everything?” he asks, still looking at the floor.

“Huh?” you ask, not expecting him to sound so emotional.

“I asked you to move in and you walked away,” he says looking up at you, the shadows of abandonment flitting across his face, fearful tears shining in his eyes.

“Oh Austin, darling,” you take his face in your hands, “I just needed to pee and clean up and think for a second. You didn’t ruin anything.” You kiss him tenderly on the forehead.

He blows out a big breath, trying to regain his composure.

“Before you say anything, no matter your answer, I need to tell you something, ok?” he states. You nod.

“Remember when I told you before I was falling for you? Well, that was sort of a lie,” he admits.

Your heart falls into your stomach without warning. What the hell is going on? He wants you to stay, but as what? Just his convenient tight pussy? Someone whom he can control by ‘taking care’ of them. Would this just be out of the frying pan and into the fire? Heat rises up your tightening chest. ‘I will NOT cry when he tells me it’s a fling,’ you tell yourself resolutely. You are usually so positive, but the idea of Austin lying to you about falling for you is like a punch in the gut. You brace yourself with a big breath.

“It’s a lie because I’m already so far gone for you. I am so in love with you, my Princess,” his eyes are pleading that you’ll hear his truth, “I know it’s not been that long, but I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, like I’ve just been waiting for you this whole time.”

His words stop your internal destructive narrative in its tracks. That was NOT what you expected him to say. The look in his eyes is like a release valve for your breath. In a flash you realize you almost fell into your own trap, the one you’ve been cycling in for over a decade.

“Oh” is all you can get out. Your mouth is trying to say words, but you are caught, in his eyes, in his hands, in his heart. You finally recover a little from your shock.

“I love you, Austin,” the words simply slipping past anything else you thought of saying, “I’ve wanted to tell you so many times. I love you, Austin, oh god how much,” your words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Relief floods his face, he pulls you in. His kiss is intense. You had no idea what he had been holding back, until suddenly, he is holding nothing back. It’s like a wave of adoration and affection washes over you as he kisses you and holds you in his arms. It’s so hard to describe, like light flooding into your cells.

He breaks the kiss and crushes you to him.

“So you’ll stay?” he says eagerly.

“Babe, I don’t know.” you are on the verge of tears from the yo-yo of emotions.

“What?” he responds almost incredulously before he takes a second to gather himself back in again, terrified his tender heart will get trudged upon. “Ok, what don’t you know,” he says much more calmly.

“Do you know why I have stayed with him?” you say matter-of-factly,” Security. No, he isn’t a great lover or even a good partner, and sometimes he is an outright asshole. But I know he won’t leave me in the cold as I try my hand at this acting thing.” You ignore the counterpoint of you leaving him, but at least he won’t be in the cold, he’ll just be getting the partner he deserves. Which isn’t you. Austin is the one who deserves all your love and devotion, your thoughtfulness and caring. FUCK, how can you you say no to him, but how can you simply say yes? How can you make this right in your head!

“I would never leave you in the cold Princess, I am offering you security as well as everything he isn’t giving you and more. Please,” he pleads. Even begging with unshed tears in his eyes, he is so utterly beautiful.

“Oh god, this is hard,” you mutter to yourself, looking up at the ceiling, trying to control how topsy-turvy your emotional world just got.

“I know, I know Austin. Please hear me when I say that there is literally no one else on this planet that I would leave for, only you. It’s always and ever only been you. It’s… “ you grab his hands, ‘no… you are everything that I want and so much more.”

Tears spring to your eyes, knowing what you have to say next.

“I’m sorry I can’t give you the answer you want, the one I want, not yet anyway. And I do want to, my darling, I do. I want to scream yes and go back there, gather my stuff and just walk out. The idea of this being my home, of YOU being my home? It’s intoxicating and almost scary in how perfect a dream it is. But my practical side just won’t let me. Austin, you have to understand, I have to be sure. I have to know that this is forever, that this,” you gesture back and forth between you, ”can provide me some stability before I drop that safety net. Once I leave him, I can’t go back and I have nowhere else I can go.”

Miraculously, Austin is nodding, “Ok, I - I hear what you are saying. I can understand that point of view. It’s a big thing to ask of you.” He ponders in silence for a moment, gears turning in his head. “If I can prove to you, beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am committed to this, that your security and stability matters as much to me as it does to you, will you?”

“I would do it in a heartbeat, I want nothing more in the world, than to be yours mind, body and soul, Austin” you say, sniffling. Geeze, usually you aren’t this emotional.

“Okay, ’he nods again, “okay love, that gives me some hope to go on, something I can work towards.”

“Something we can work towards,” you correct him. “I love giving you control over me during sex, this,” you push his hand between your legs, ”truly is your pussy, my mouth,” you kiss him, “is only for you now. But, if we are really going to go down the relationship road, I don’t want it to be based on ‘ownership’ like that. I want a partnership, where we can be of equal, if different, support for one another. I want to take care of you as much as you take care of me, y’know what I mean?”

Austin is nodding at you, his hand still pressed to your crotch.

“I love that and I love you, my Princess,” he pulls you into his lap, wiping an escaped tear from your cheek. “It feels so good to actually tell you. I was holding it in, not wanting to scare you away.” His arm closes around you, cradling your head against his naked shoulder.

“Austin, how could your love ever scare me away,” you snuggle in close.

You press his hand back between your legs, suddenly craving him, craving the comfort of sexual contact, of what you DO know, what you ARE sure of: that his body was made for you, and yours for his.

“Please,” you whisper in his ear, “I just want you inside me.”

He turns towards you, brushing his cheek against your lips. “Are you sure baby?”

“Austin Butler just told me that he loved me, yes I am sure,” you smile at him, biting your lip.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, capturing your eyes with his. His wet fingers stroke your labia.

“I DO love you,” he presses in lightly, finding your own wetness already gathering there.

His fingers stroke you, playing around your clit.

“And I want you,” he pushes his finger inside of you, ”to be mine...” You moan low as his thumb lazily arcs, tracing the archway of your clit.

…forever,” he whispers in your ear.

You melt, you pool, you ooze. You are, in this moment, almost willing to say ‘fuck security’ and never leave. Almost.

When you cum in his lap and on his fingers, it’s to his whispered voice in your ear repeating over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You straddle his leg to face him on the couch, gathering his face in your hands.

“I love you Austin Butler, I love you, I’ve always loved you,” now that you have no qualms saying it outloud, you can’t seem to say it enough.

Arms around his neck you press your lips to his, and your pussy to his leg. He flexes his muscular thigh, which pushes right up into your wet folds. You groan slightly into his mouth. His hands are on your hips pulling you towards him, then pushing you away. Your wet pussy laying down strings of slick on his skin.

It’s like some door inside you unlatched and you are suddenly horny as hell. His sexy gaze on you and his tongue unconsciously wetting his gorgeous full bottom lip before capturing it in his teeth. His hands guiding you on him. You get so close to cumming as you ride him. You finally climb off him, panting, heart racing, unsure of what you need next to get you there. The look you give him is so sexy and utterly debauched.

“Oh hunny,” he rumbles, “C’mon.”

He stands and pulls you into a deep kiss, takes you by the hand, walks backward to the stairs. He guides you up the first step. Now, even with his height, he kisses you again. He begins forcing you, with intense kisses, to take steps backwards up the stairs. His hands are on your breasts and your ass; grasping, rolling, kneading. Your hands are all over him, outlining muscles, fingertips in the light hairs on his chest, rubbing his nipples with the pads of your thumbs.

Suddenly you sit hard on the bed, you hadn’t even realized you were in the bedroom.

“Back up and spread those legs, my Princess,” his breath is shaky trying to control his desire for you. “You are fucking incredible and enchanting,” he crawls up your body, until he is croutching above you like a predator over its kill. “I just can't ever get enough of you, my Angel. You drive me crazy in the best ways possible.”

If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined. After this, the bedspread may need to be replaced.

“And in case you are wondering,” his eyes and voice so full of desire, “I’m going to bring that pussy, my pussy, to so many orgasms tonight you won’t be able to walk right tomorrow,” he kisses you hard, pushing himself inside you.

He spends the entire evening and into the night making good on this promise as though it were the first step in proving just how serious he is about keeping you. You cum on his cock as he steadily thrusts into you. He cuddles you sweetly, kissing your forehead, letting your heart rate calm down. Until his hand finds its way to your crotch. You cum on his fingers as he stares deep into your eyes. He holds you tight, nibbling at your neck, kissing your sternum as it rises and falls. He pulls your nipples into his mouth, sucking them one, then the other. He showers your belly with kisses, growling just a little as he does. Now he is settling between your knees, his tongue dipping greedily into your wet snatch. You cum on his tongue as he laps you into oblivion.

You beg for his cock in your mouth. You suck his tip as he strokes his own shaft. You hold his base in your left hand while your right, seemingly of its own accord, plays with yourself. It’s like you just can’t stop. As his hot milky seed spurts onto your tongue, you twitch and swallow, jerk and swallow, cum and swallow. Moaning deep as you lick up every fucking drop of his cum like it’s the nectar of the gods.

After every orgasm, your body searches for more, you just can’t get satiated. And each time, he waits until you come down from your peak before ramping you up again.

Late that night, you are floating in a surreal cloud of oxytocin and dopamine, time meaning nothing. Austin has you bent over the bed, your wrists are in the small of your back. His long fingered hand is wrapped around them, using them as an anchor point as he slams into you. You had begged him to go hard and deep into you and never stop. Maybe, if he fucks you hard enough you might be done. You are moaning on the end of his dick.

“No, I need…” you moan as you twist one hand out from his grasp.

“What do you need, my Princess,” he pants out.

“Over,” you twist your spine, flipping on to your back, legs wide.

He plunges right back into you. You moan. There’s no reprieve for the wickedly horny. His hands are wrapped around the tops of your thighs, thumbs digging in.

You hold up two fingers, his tongue licks up the pads then over, sucking your fingers and swirling his tongue. You withdraw your wet digits and press them between you. Your clit feels huge, engorged as your fingers brush it. Your voice breathing out little yeses as you draw the invisible sigils that you know will get you there.

He watches you. His brows furrowed together, mouth hanging open in a little ‘oh’. This is so much better, being able to see him. He is panting, sweating, straining, doing everything in his power to make you cum yet again. Good lord he is so unbelievably sexy, and he loves you. The thought strikes you, hard.

Suddenly the tinder catches, fire shoots deep into your core as you clench around him, erupting into flames that envelop your pelvis, your spine, your chest up your neck and into your brain.

“Fuck yeah, that’s my girl!” His voice is deep, almost harsh as his hips snap harder, faster back and forth.

You are jerking on him, your orgasm filling you, just as you expect he is going to with his cum. You remove your fingers only to have them replaced with his, light and fast rubbing side to side on your sensitive nub.

“Nonononono!” you scream hoarsely, pushing uselessly at his hands.

“Oh yes, yes,” he says through clenched teeth. “My pussy is getting the works tonight my love, you know what to say and I’m gonna suck, finger, fuck, and shake that pussy until you do.”

You realize he has lulled you into a comfortable cycle of orgasm, come down, relax, then back to orgasm. Now his beautifully evil plan unfolds, and you are so unbelievably sensitive.

You try wriggling away from him, but his hand is clamped down on your thigh as he keeps fucking you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, it’s overwhelming, but oh so good. In a flash he is gone, for a split second there is nothing touching you, and your eyes shoot open, trying to breathe. Then his mouth closes over your pussy. Your breath is gone again as he pulls your clit into the vacuum of his mouth. His tongue is merciless against you. Your hips vibrate, your hands grasp his hair. Your screams fill the room, you can’t even hear the sloppy suction of his mouth on you.

“ SS… SSS… No,no, no! STOP!” you finally cry shaking your head. He rises, immediately grasping your pussy in his large hand, shaking it, keeping you writhing.

“No, I won’t my love, you know that,” his voice is so smooth and relaxed. The palm of his hand pressing and shaking your mons.

Your orgasm rocks you again and again. Again and again you beg him to stop, but never use your word. You have backed yourself up to the headboard in an effort to get away from his hands, his fingers, his mouth. But in the next second, you are pushing against it and towards him. Your body and mind are locked in conflict; it’s too much, it’s not enough. You are pushed so far into pleasure you don’t know how much longer you can stand it. At the same time, you never want him to stop.

“Ok Princess,” he says, getting on his knees, lifting your ankles to his shoulders,”I’m gonna fuck my sweet little pussy until I cum. Until I’m satisfied.” His grin is nothing short of devilry as he slides, long and hard, inside you. Your body is responding without your consent, attempting to plank on his shoulders to get away from his cock.

“Oh no you don’t, “ he pushes your hips back down, impaling you once again, “you are gonna take my cock, darling, like a good girl,” he admonishes.

He leans down, your legs sliding down his arms, your knees close to your armpits. He grabs your arms near the elbows pinning you down like a frog on its back. You can’t push him off, you don’t want to, not that your body is listening to you. It’s insane how fucking maniacally good it feels to be so overstimulated. He slides in and out experimentally in this new position. Fuck, he is deep as he slides right into your g-spot.

Oh. Holy. Fuckballs.

You grit your teeth, shaking your head ‘no’.

No to him.

No to yourself.

You refuse to say the word until he orgasms again. You want to hear what a good girl you are, you want to be his incredible Princess, you want to take everything he can give you.

He rails into you, grunting, growling, moaning; sounds he knows drive you wild. You had no idea that being held down like this would be such a fucking turn on. No idea that you could feel this good for this long. You are about to give in, scream the word. When he pulls out of you and pumping his cock with his hand, spatters your pussy and your belly with thick, creamy cum. His panting groans fill the air, his sweat drips onto your legs. You think you are home free, until his palm starts rubbing his cum into your pussy in circles.

“What a good girl you are, taking my cock so deep” he croons at you. “You want more?” He slips his finger in you, “I’ll keep going Angel, my sweet love.”

You can’t believe he still has the energy to keep going. His thumb falls onto your clit and you just can’t anymore.

“FUCK! Sushi!” you cry out once. You are fucking worn out. Your whole pelvis is buzzing and sobs start shaking your body in an effort to process the whole fucking thing.

He stops instantly and gathers you in his arms.

“Shh, darling. My good Princess. I’m so proud of you, my good girl, my love,” he says softly against your temple.

He is fucking amazing.

He holds you, messy and sweaty, until your heart rate slows and your breathing evens. He holds the bottle of water as you drink, then takes you to the shower. You sit on the little bench, trying not to pass out. He cleans and dries you both quickly and tosses the ruined bedspread off the bed before tucking you into the sheets. He covers you with a blanket he pulls out from his closet and turns out the light. He climbs in behind you, warm body pressed against your back.

“Good night my love. I love you,” he whispers into your ear.

“Mmm, my Austin, love you,” is all you can get out before sleep claims you.

Your eyes flutter open in the morning and you are absolutely relaxed. The revelations of yesterday slide into focus. Austin is in love with you. Austin wants you to stay with him, forever. Austin plans to show you how much your stability matters to him too. It’s like the pieces of your real life are sliding into focus and that fake unhappy life is melting away. When you think about living happily ever after with Austin, you are calm and completely happy. Austin is breathing heavy and even behind you, still deeply asleep. When you get up to use the bathroom you find you are definitely sore, but it’s the best kind of sore you have ever been. When you snuggle back against Austin, a little smile creeps over his face.

The Mood Board In Itself Deserves A Repost... So Pretty 🥺 So Vibey ✨️

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