#austin sommers x reader

[saintlucretia]

the feeling when your fictional crush is so wild you can't even defend them:

[fear-is-truth]

Wanna try out some freaky positions? The Evans and their favorite positions

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans & their fav positions .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ kai anderson ‧ austin sommers | content warning : nsfw. mdni

a/n: the way my jaw dropped when i read the first sentence.. you really got me with that one, anon

⟢ 𝓣𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝓛𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate’s preferences in the bedroom are deeply tied to his need for emotional intimacy and reassurance.

missionary would be his favourite. it’s vulnerable, intimate, and allows for maximum connection, which is what tate craves more than anything else. he’d interlock fingers with you, pressing your hands into the mattress or holding them tightly.

eye contact would be everything to him. he’d want to look directly into your eyes, searching for reassurance, love, and validation. to tate, that kind of closeness makes him feel safe.

he’d constantly check in with you, softly asking, “is this okay?” or “how does it feel?” not just to make sure you’re comfortable, but because he genuinely needs the verbal affirmation to know he’s doing something right—something that makes you happy.

⟢ 𝓚𝐈𝐓 𝓦𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

missionary would be kit’s favourite position most of the time. it feels intimate, allows for deep connection, and fits his “good ol’ fashioned lover-boy” nature perfectly. he’s all about closeness—pressing his forehead to yours, whispering sweet nothings, and holding you tightly like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

he’s the type of guy who cherishes the little details, like brushing hair out of your face, kissing your shoulders, and holding eye contact.

that said, cowgirl would also be a common occurrence, especially after a long day of work. kit works himself to the bone providing for your family, so sometimes he’s just exhausted when he gets home. he loves when you take the lead, because it makes him feel so loved to just lay back, relax, and let you take care of him.

he’s a little shy at first with letting you take control, but once he sees how much fun you’re having, he’s all in—hands on your hips, guiding you on his cock, his face in awe like you’ve hung the moon.

psychologically, kit’s approach to intimacy is about balance. he wants to feel needed and strong, like he’s protecting and loving you in the best way he can, but he also loves it when you take charge because it shows him how much you trust him.

no matter the position, kit’s main goal is making sure you’re happy. he’d always put your comfort and pleasure first.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝓚𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝓢𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle is a hopeless romantic at heart, so missionary is definitely his favourite. this position lets him stay close, keep eye contact, and show you how much he cares.

face-off (you in his lap) would also be a favorite. kyle loves having you close, with your arms wrapped around him. it’s perfect for when you’re both in a lazy, cuddly mood, plus he gets to kiss you all over.

⟢ 𝓙𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝓓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

doggy style/ backshots? oh absofuckinlutely. he’s got that intense focus that comes out when he’s in control. guiding you with his hands on your hips, setting the pace in a borderline animalistic hunger.

standing positions are another go-to for jimmy. he’s the type to sweep you up, pin you against a wall (or a caravan) and let’s just say that the whole camp would know that y’all are having a good time.

despite the roughness, jimmy’s incredibly attuned to your reactions. he’s always making sure he’s not crossing a line, even if he doesn’t always verbalise it. his care comes through in the way he adjusts to you—whether it’s slowing down, holding you tighter, or kissing the back of your neck to reassure you.

⟢ 𝓙𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝓟𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝓜𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

at the beginning of your courtship, james would stick to missionary. it’s traditional, intimate, and allows for eye contact, which he values deeply—especially in those early moments when he’s still courting you with his old-world charm.

but as the relationship progresses, james lets his more “adventurous” side take the wheel. his love for theatrics and flair seeps into everything he does. suddenly, missionary evolves into backshots, or a shift in scenery to somewhere unexpected, like the grand dining table or on a bloody mattress with someone’s corpse on it. he loves variety and drama.

james is also a switch. there are times when he’s completely dominant, but when he’s in the mood? it’s a whole different story. he would relinquish control willingly, finding an almost masochistic joy in being at your mercy. his love for you transcends his ego—he enjoys seeing what you’d do with him, as long as it’s tasteful (or, in his words, “inspired”)

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝓚𝐀𝐈 𝓐𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

doggy-style would absolutely be his top choice most of the time. it’s the most dominant position, and kai thrives on power—control, detachment, and him being the one to dictate the pace. it also lets him keep a certain emotional distance when he’s not in the mood to be vulnerable. if he’s feeling particularly guarded, he’d focus entirely on the physical aspect, avoiding eye contact altogether.

but when he’s in a more open headspace (which is rare but happens when he’s really invested in you), he’d shift to more intimate positions like missionary. he’d want to see your expressions, study the way you react to him. eye contact in this context would feel like a way to assert emotional dominance, as if he’s drawing something deeper out of you without having to say anything.

psychologically, kai’s interest in these positions ties into his obsessive need for control. missionary and doggy are not only great for physical connection but also align with his breeding kink. both are often touted as best for conception would appeal to him (….messiah baby. yeah)

ultimately, kai’s choice would depend entirely on his mood and his level of trust in the moment. when he feels secure, he craves the intimacy of seeing your face; when he doesn’t, he defaults to positions that allow him to stay in charge and keep his emotions in check.

⟢ 𝓐𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝓢𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

69 is a definite go-to for him. he enjoys the balanced give and take, both physically and mentally. the equal focus allows him to be in his head while still being present. and let’s be real—between eating you out, he’d probably says something like, “i need this, it helps the inspiration flow” because, to him, sex is both a release and a source of creativity.

cowgirl is another favourite, especially when he’s feeling a bit lazy or wants to just enjoy the view of your tits. he likes how it allows him to sit back, relax, and watch you bounce on his cock, all while he gets to think about whatever creative project he’s working on. it’s almost as if he’s got his mind on his latest writing but still completely invested in you. he’d probably appreciate the rhythm and focus, using it as an opportunity to zone out while still being completely physical.

 fear-is-truth 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫

The result of summoning a spirit without knowing it can be impressive —or highly delicious.

tags n warnings: austin sommers x reader, vampirism, witchcraft, language, dry humping, love bites. word count: 2.4k masterlist

As someone completely inexperienced and, to be honest, a little odd, you had no idea how you ended up in this situation. Alone, sitting on the floor, a single candle flickering beside you, and a man—magnificent, almost ethereal—materializing right before your eyes after you recited some silly spell you found on the internet as a joke.

"How to Summon a Vampire. 100% Foolproof Tutorial."

I mean, there was no way this could be real. It was literally from a blog written fifteen years ago, with terrible formatting and a design that looked like it had crawled straight out of the early days of the internet. And yet… there he was. Standing in your room, looking utterly unimpressed at having been disturbed.

"What, girl? Are you just gonna sit there staring at me?" he grumbled, crossing his arms impatiently. The motion caused his half-unbuttoned shirt to slip open a little more, revealing a toned chest where silver necklaces rested against his pale skin. "God, are you mute, or just stupid?"

"S-Sorry, it’s just… I didn’t think this would actually work," you stammered, blinking rapidly as if trying to force reality to make sense. You had literally summoned a vampire into your bedroom. "I was just… bored."

"Yeah, well, idle hands are the devil’s playground, huh? Your mother never taught you that?" He mocked, stretching his arms above his head like a lazy, well-fed cat. His movements were casual, yet dripping with a confidence so effortless it was almost taunting. "You should really get a better hobby than playing around with witchcraft."

"Witchcraft? But… aren’t you a vampire?" you asked, finally pushing yourself up to stand. The height difference between you became glaringly obvious—he towered over you effortlessly, his presence somehow even more imposing up close.

"Uh, duh. Look at me," he scoffed, making a dramatic gesture toward himself. When you hesitated, he rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh before tugging back his upper lip with his index finger. No sharp fangs like in the movies. But still… there was something about him, something undeniably not human.

"Shit…" you whispered, leaning in slightly for a closer look. Your hand lifted instinctively, but you caught yourself halfway and quickly pulled it back.

"So? Why the hell did you summon me?" he snapped, cutting through your awe as he shoved a hand into his coat pocket. He pulled out a black pill and a small metal flask, unscrewing the lid and taking a swig. His face twisted in mild disgust—alcohol, you guessed.

You exhaled deeply. Now wasn’t the time to second-guess yourself—there was a real vampire standing in front of you.

"I want to become one," you admitted, straightening your posture in an attempt to look braver than you felt. Or at least, something close to it. “A vampire.”

He raised an eyebrow, scanning you from head to toe as if he were dissecting every detail, every cell of your body. Then, he let out a low, drawn-out chuckle. "And why do you want that?"

You hesitated. Your reason was stupid, obvious, frivolous. But something in his eyes told you he’d know if you lied. So, you decided to tell the truth.

"I'm bored."

He tilted his head slightly, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You’re kind of weird."

"Is that a bad thing?" you asked, frowning.

"Nah," he chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. "Actually, I like it. At least it’s original."

"So… will you turn me?" you asked, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He let out a dramatic sigh, throwing his head back before looking at you again. "I don’t know… Are you willing to pay the price?"

"Yes," you answered without hesitation. You had come this far—whatever came next was just a bonus.

"Alright then," he shrugged, loosening his arms and stepping toward you. Slowly. Deliberately.

He stopped so close you could feel his breath—a cold whisper against your skin. "You’re kinda cute," he murmured, his gaze trailing over you again. "It’d be a shame to ruin that…"

"Uh… thanks?" you replied, unsure whether it was a compliment or if he was genuinely surprised you weren’t some kind of freak.

His smile widened, amused. "Oh, this is going to be fun…"

He touched your face with his fingertips, cold skin contrasting with the heat of your body. With a subtle movement, he tilted your head to the side, exposing your neck. His gaze became intense, fixed on the spot where your pulse hammered beneath the thin skin. You felt your heart race and, instinctively, you closed your eyes—perhaps in a futile attempt to not feel so vulnerable under his predatory gaze.

“By the way, I’m Austin Sommers,” he introduced himself, his casual tone contrasting with the way he pressed his index finger against your artery, feeling each rapid beat. “You’ll need to know when you need to moan my name.”

“What? Ouch!” You let out a surprised cry when you felt something sharp tear your skin—a quick, precise cut. Before you could react, Austin had already tilted his head and pressed his mouth against the wound, his warm lips sealing themselves around your skin.

The initial shock was replaced by an alarming sensation—pleasurable, intense. His tongue slid across the cut, cleaning away the remaining blood, and a shiver ran down your spine. Your body reacted before your mind could process what was happening; your hand shot to his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you tried to anchor yourself to something.

And God… it felt good. So damn good.

Austin pulled away slowly, his eyes half-lidded as he ran his tongue over his lower lip, collecting any lingering traces of blood. A playful smile curved his mouth as he wiped a bit of the crimson liquid from the corner with his finger—then brought it to his lips, sucking on it leisurely.

"Your blood is sweet," he mused, still savoring the taste. His gaze flickered over your face before dropping back to your neck. He lifted a hand, running a finger along your skin to gather another drop, which he lazily licked away. "Like, really sweet. Almost pure sugar."

"Is that… a good thing?" you asked awkwardly, bringing a hand to your neck. When you glanced at your palm, you noticed a thin streak of blood still trailing down your skin.

"Eh, depends," he shrugged, then gestured toward your hand. "Hey, don’t waste that."

Before you could react, he grabbed your wrist and dragged his tongue slowly across your palm, lapping up the blood with a satisfied expression.

"Actually, it’s great for me," he explained, releasing your hand with a click of his tongue. "Terrible for you though. Tell me—have you been stuffing yourself with sweets for the past three months?"

"What? That’s… weirdly specific," you frowned, thrown off by the seemingly random question.

Austin rolled his eyes, letting out a low chuckle, clearly amused by your cluelessness.

"Oh, you airhead," he taunted, crossing his arms with a smug tilt of his head. "Red blood cells take three months to regenerate. You can’t cheat the tests."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to connect the dots. But when you just stared at him blankly, he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Whatever, you weren’t required to know that," he said with a lazy smirk. Then, he stepped closer, his gaze darkening with something that sent a ripple of anticipation through your stomach.

"Either way… we need to move on to the second part of the ritual."

“Would that be… dying?” you asked, tilting your head to the side opposite where Austin had bitten you. Your voice came out lower than you intended, almost shaky, but not exactly from fear.

He let out a low, melodious laugh, filled with something indecipherable. “Wow, I love morbid witches,” you teased, a charming smile forming on his lips. “They’re the sexiest.”

Unhurriedly, he lifted his hand and touched your neck, his icy fingers gliding over the living skin. He didn’t press, just let his palm rest there, as if he were enjoying the sensation of your life pulsing beneath his touch. His fingers traced the fresh scar with a slow, almost reverent caress.

"You liked that, didn’t you?"

You held your breath, biting your lip as a shiver ran down your spine. You wanted to deny it, but the lie would have been so obvious it wasn’t even worth the effort. Nodding subtly, you finally admitted, "Yes… Strangely, it felt really good."

Gathering the courage to meet his gaze, you found those pitch-black eyes—deep as the void of night—watching you with something that made your heart hammer against your ribs.

"You want more?" he teased, his voice laced with amusement, yet something in the way he asked made the offer all the more tempting.

His fingers ghosted along the back of your neck, curling into your hair and giving a gentle, yet unyielding tug, tilting your head back just enough to leave you vulnerable.

A quiet whimper slipped from your throat, your lips parting as you hesitated to put into words what was already written all over your face. Your gaze lowered, silently pleading. It was forbidden. Morbid. Seductive. Just like Austin Sommers himself.

"There is definitely something wrong with you," he chuckled softly, the vibration of his voice reverberating against your skin before he leaned in closer.

His head dipped toward your neck again, lips hovering over the warmth of your pulse. The other hand traveled slowly up the curve of your spine, gliding to your waist before pulling you flush against him.

Your heart pounded. Everything about this was wrong—too strange, too intoxicating. His touch, his hypnotic voice, the way each word seemed to slip past your defenses effortlessly. You didn’t know if it was something supernatural or simply something chemical—something inside you that had always been there, waiting to be awakened.

But for the first time, you felt completely alive. Your fingers tangled into the soft strands at the nape of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips were barely brushing against his.

"I want more," you whispered.

His eyes widened briefly, caught off guard, but the surprise melted away as quickly as it came, replaced by that same knowing smile that was already becoming familiar.

"With pleasure," he murmured, his cool breath mixing with the heat of your lips.

He closed his eyes, and you did the same. The moment was too intense to experience with your eyes open.

Austin’s breath was tantalizing, ghosting over your mouth as if he were savoring every molecule of your being before even touching you. His hands slid to the back of your neck, holding you in place—keeping you captive under his control as he absorbed everything.

Your scent. Your warmth. Your racing pulse. Blood. Soap. Perfume. Sweat. When his lips finally met yours, it was like drinking from the forbidden fruit. Warm. Slow. Poetic. There was something in him that fed on this. A hunger that stirred the darkness, that made you feel like a feast laid out before him and Austin Sommers loved to indulge.

The only difference that separated you from him was the thirst for blood and you were about to change that, biting his lip, the soft skin untouched by time between your teeth, sinking them in. A trickle of blood coming out, the metallic taste on your taste buds. This was a feral and delicious fetish.

Austin growled into your mouth, the touch becoming more possessive, hands on each other's faces, like a battle of lascivious dominance. He returned the force, pulling your hair back, grabbing your lower lip harder. You moaned so beautifully there that Austin felt it was artistic, almost unreal, daring to repeat the feat, loving every second of your delight.

“Fuck— you're so...delicious,” he murmured when you separated, your mouths were swollen, red with blood flowing to the region and scarlet staining your teeth. “I wouldn't mind giving you love bites for eternity.”

“Do this to me,” you murmured, licking the corner of Austin’s mouth that still contained traces of your fluid. “Forever.”

He pulled your hair again, interrupting your lustful declaration, it was like having you on a leash, but you had the collar. Pulling on his collar, you stopped the aggressive tug, making him disarm himself for the first time. “Now,” you commanded, sealing your lips again, satisfying your new addiction, not letting anything escape.

“Drink me,” Austin invited. He was lost, succumbing to the need to surrender too. With strong steps, he laid you down on the bed in your room, pulling on your necklace. What to do but comply with the request?

Your body was hot, sinfully hot. Wet was a weak word for what was happening between your legs, at this point, you could feel every red blood cell running through your blood vessels, as well as every cell of Austin that woke up on top of you. Your mouth went to Austin’s neck, sucking and biting, licking, the taste of his addictive skin. Austin gasped, pushing his hips forward. As you abused his neck, you felt the need to scratch it, running your nails over the pressure point.

“Fuck,” he grunted, grabbing your wrist. You felt the cut, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, as it was numbed by Austin’s tongue and his hips thrusting back and forth against your sex.

“Shit, shit—" you moaned, spreading your legs wider, seeking Austin’s face for another kiss, feeling your own blood mix with his tongue. Your body was out of control beneath him and soon, you came undone there. The prophecy fulfilled, moaning until the last shock waves. “Austin!”

“Shit,” he gasped, his fingers digging into your waist, the sound being muffled by your mouth.

The only sound that could be heard was the heavy breathing, your heart beating. Your eyes met, Austin smiled, burying his face in the hollow of your neck for one last bite before turning to you.

“So, did I finish the ritual?” You questioned with a ragged breath, a wide smile splitting your face.

“It never even started,” he laughed, going to your ear to bite the lobe and return to your eyes. “I’m not a vampire, I’m just a big blood-addicted son of a bitch.”

“And how did I summon you?” You asked, trying to get up, but were soon stopped by Austin’s hands on your wrists, pinning you to the bed, while he adjusted himself on top of you to also pin your legs.

“You had the bad luck to summon a succubus,” he hummed, your whole body was on fire at the time, making sense of the whole devilish aura around Austin. “Now you’re my favorite toy. Enjoy the party and grab my collar. I'm your one and only freak monster.”

[icedheartss]

My whisper

[slutforgarlogan]

Summary: Sucking Austin off in an alleyway

Warnings: Public blowjob, oral (m!recieving), face fucking

A/N: V short drabble to get out of writers block because the writers block has been awful soz guys x

With each harsh thrust into your mouth, your knees scraped against the pavement, the small but consistent friction starting to pierce the skin.

You whimper in pain around his cock, hearing him groan in response to the slight vibration, subtly twitching in your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks impossibly further, you start to move your head in sync with Austins thrusts into your mouth, choking back gags as he fucks your throat.

Austin lets out an almost gutteral moan, cock twitching on your tongue as he watches the saliva collect at the corners of your mouth, spilling out of your mouth and dripping down the sides of your chin.

"fuckk you're such a good girl, taking my dick out here like a slut"

You hum in reponse, watching his face contort in pleasure as you feel a warm liquid start to fill your mouth, his last few thrusts sloppy as he pulls himself out of your mouth, watching you swallow.

Taglist: @bluerthanvelvet444 @lvxybby @coentinim @newwavesylviaplath @lacucarachapisser

[americanwh0rerstory]

KINKTOBER DAY SIX

blood play - austin sommers

austin sommers x f!reader

SUMMARY: initial carving with your vampiristic boyfriend? wonder how that’ll end

CONTENT WARNING: blood, carving initials, vampires, oral f!receiving

A/N: have i wrote for austin before? no. will i do him any justice? also no. but here’s an attempt from someone who fell asleep during red tide and needs to rewatch it

MDNI. 18+ BELOW

“just hold still, i’ll be done in a sec” austin murmurs as he lines the tip of the bladed object to your lower abdomen, just above your mound. his eyes were focused in deep concentration which wasn’t something you’d expect to see from austin in these scenarios

without any warning he made 3 quick slashes into your skin, creating an ‘A’ shape into your flesh. the wounds instantly began to fill with blood, pooling on surface of your skin. it stung like a motherfucker, but you couldn’t deny how the pain sent a rush of pleasure down to your throbbing clit. the blood instantly spilled and began to dribble down your flesh towards your weeping cunt

a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, and he began carving an ‘S’ beside the A. just like before, the stinging sensation flooded your senses with painful euphoria; the blood yet again dripped down your body, mixing with your slick and leaving austin with an even wider grin

without saying anything he licked the carved initials, tasting your blood. he licked down your body until he reached your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive nub whilst he licks the blood off of your sensitive flesh. he continued moving down south, licking along your slit with the flat of his tongue and drinking the mixture of your essence and blood: two of his favourite things.

your body writhed in pleasure beneath him, eyes fluttering back in your head whilst austin drew sweet moans from between your lips. he let out a small scoff of amusement at how you were reacting, the noise sending vibrations washing over your sex.

his tongue lapped up your bloodied essence and he moaned into your cunt when he felt more blood drip down from the wounds which were slowly closing up. he couldn’t deny it was hot though: his initials permanently carved into your flesh aroused him to large extent

you felt that familiar coil building in your lower stomach, the stinging sensation from the cuts further fuelling your pleasure until you came undone, with austin practically drinking your release.

“so good, you’re fucking hot when you cum on my tongue” he hums in delight, milking your orgasm for all he could get, however the grin on his face showed that he didn’t plan on stopping yet.

A/N: i have never struggled this much with characterisation. austin is definitely my weakness. i thought i was bad at writing michael langdon but this is a whole other level💀

[yandereunsolved]

- ,, Yandere Austin Sommers - ,,

"I've got the hungies~"

"Stop calling it that."

"Whacha gonna do about it? You're my pretty little prisoner."

"I'm surprised you haven't just chosen to dig your fangs into my neck yet."

"Hey! I care about consent."

"You have killed multiple people I have held dearly in my heart. Did they consent to that?"

"They consented to it when they first put their grubby hands all over your body."

"Oh, great. You're even more insane than I first thought."

"I'm a writer, darling. We visionaries are all a little insane. Like the artist Richard Dadd. He was famed for his supernatural art, but he suffered from nasty psychotic episodes. He once thought that he had been taken mentally hostage by the god Osiris. I could only dream of such things."

"I hate you."

"With a burning passion...? That gives me an idea for a new manuscript!"

"You go do that."

"Aww, you aren't the least bit interested in it?"

"Not even a little."

"Too bad. I am telling you anyway. Two star-crossed lovers meet, one a dashing artist with undeniable swagger and the other his unwilling muse. The artist suffers from psychotic breaks, which can only be fixed by his lover's touch. It does get pretty intimate. Perhaps we should recreate some of the scenes already vividly appearing in my prefrontal cortex."

"In your dreams."

"You're always in my dreams~!"

"..."

"Why are you giving me that look?"

"I'm still hungie."

( @slutforgarlogan )

[doll3tt33]

I won’t stop until that girl is mine !

(paparazzi!austin sommers x celeb!user)

First screenshot is literally his response to me threatening to beat his ass 😭😭😭 AND THE SECOND ONE BYEEE. HES SO CUNTY I LUV

The greeting message:

Also this is inspired by the song ‘Paparazzi’ by Lady Gaga if it wasn’t obvious enough 😭. But instead of just making him into a plain stalker, I took a quite literal turn with this and made him into a tabloid photographer who exploits {{user}} 24/7, but like he denies that he’s obsessed with you and says it’s just for business purposes only 😏

𝜗𝜚 divider credits: @/plutism @/chachachannah

[xrag-dollx]

Guardian Angel...

~Kit Walker x fem! reader

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎: A thunderstorm was coming closer and Kit was nowhere to be found. When he'd return was unknown.

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: Pretty much none (?) Just a comfort-fluff with a pinch of angst :3

𝓐/𝓝: English isn't my first language so sorry for any mistakes <3

You woke up. A storm was built up like a negative emotion coming closer. The wind, wild and pounding, almost unpredictable was raging outside the landside, combing the wheat and the grass in a obstinate manner, the wrathful thunder was one with its power of the sheer nature. A lightning bolt enlightened the sky for merely just a moment, as it danced a wild waltz so high.

"Kit?"

You glanced to your next but he wasn't there. Your bed, blank and left with bleakness was resting next to you instead. You were worried. Where was he?

In your dismay, you rushed through the house in your long white sleeping gown, as it softly caressed the wooden floor underneath your feet. You shouted his name for the hope he'd respond, an illusion of his voice was crossing your head, hearing him screaming your name, but your mind played tricks on you as the beloved voice of his couldn't be heard anywhere. In seeking desperation you rushed to every empty room of the building, just to find shallow places instead.

The rain crashed onto the rooftop as it produced ear-piercing noises. It frightened you...the weather frightened you... almost to death. Huddled up, you sat on the floor, crying out your shattered heart, waiting for Kit's return in despair. You felt so abandoned, a cold breeze of air hugged your presence as it made you shiver. Kit was gone, when he would make his return was only laid in the lap of time, yet you prayed for the good. All of a sudden, a lightning strike, bold and raging, bores into a birch within seconds. You let out a scream of fear, it echoes in the emptiness of your room, your body was trembling... tears of fright streamed down your pale skin, as it got painted by the water of emotions. Married to a depraved notion in your mind that your beloved husband was somewhere, outside, engulfed by storm and rain. A bitter feeling got spread in your stomach like a wildfire in rage. Suddenly, the door to your house crashed open, the rain was coming down in waves and flashing lights enlightened the night...

"Hey!...oh suga...c'mere"

Kit spoke, as he spotted you on the ground like a frightened stray cat, to catch you into his embrace, he was soaked to the bones but you couldn't care less. The one you loved the most has returned form the depths of darkness and ignited a fire inside of you with burning desire. You felt as vividness began to bloom like a flower in may in every part of your broken heart. You were clinging onto Kit like he's a fond memory of yours. You didn't want to let him go. Never, ever, again. You wanted to get fed with the tender love he's giving, it just made you insatiable.

"Shhhhh...it's okay, baby...I'm here now"

"Kit cooed as he softly combed your hair, holding you tightly in his arms like you're his biggest possession. His whispers worked like a remedy on you, washing away all the pain and sorrow within a blink of an eye. Kit noticed how sleepy you got as he picked you up bridal-style, taking you upstairs to the warm and beloved bedroom, gently laying you down the soft bed like a fragile doll made of porcelain.

"I'm here for you..."

He whispers, as he was taking your hand in his, kissing the velvety skin on the back of your hand as he's gently rubbing it with his thumb. The thunderstorm calmed down and Kit rested next to you, like he was guarding the angel you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼: @fear-is-truth, @doll3tt33, @evanchantingpeters, @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re

《xrag-dollx all rights reserved. Copying my work is prohibited.》

[frankenkyle19]

Kinktober Day 4: Messing Around with Austin Sommers

word count: 1.9k, a bit of a shorter one today but that’s okay because I really like it despite it being short. Posting a day early again before I head to bed. Enjoy!

Warnings/description: Blood, biting, vampire shit, handjobs, touching, teasing, slight begging

“I’m telling you, Twix are wayyyyy better than peanut butter cups!” Austin argued. The two of you were standing in the Halloween candy section at the store, arguing over what kinds of candy you should buy for the trick or treaters this year. 

Austin loved Halloween, and despite not liking kids that much, he did enjoy handing out candy and watching their faces light up. It just did something to him. 

“Well maybe we should get both.” You said, reaching for the big bag of chocolate candies and setting it in your cart. It was already half full with just about every candy in the store because Austin insisted on giving out the most and the best. Plus, he liked to snack on it as well.

“Is that everything?” You asked, looking back at Austin who was still browsing the shelves, looking over all the candy. He picked up a bag and chuckled. There were about a dozen individual bags of what appeared to be blood. Candy blood of course, but still.

He held it up to you and laughed, shaking his head as he placed it in the cart amongst the various other candies.

“Austin! We aren’t giving out little blood bag candies!” You whisper shouted at him, playfully shoving his shoulder. Why was he always like this? 

“Oh but we are and it’ll be great.” He took the cart and began to wheel it towards the checkout, stopping to look at a few more things as he went. 

You followed after him, shaking your head. People probably through the two of you were crazy with the amount of candy you had in your cart. way over a hundred dollars worth. I guess that’s what happened when you had money and could use it on whatever you wanted. 

You helped Austin place the bags of candy on the counter as the cashier began to scan them and just as you thought. The total was over a hundred dollars.

$134.78

Damn… all that on candy? 

Sometimes you wondered if Austin was insane, but even he would tell you the answer was yes. He in fact was insane. All artists were. Blah blah blah. 

Austin paid and thanked the woman behind the counter before picking up the bags and tucking them under his arm as he smiled at you. 

“Alright, ready to go my queen?” He grinned, gesturing towards the door as he began to walk towards it, trying not to drop any of the bags of candy as he went. It proved a bit difficult considering just how much of it there was. 

————————————————————————-

Once you got home Austin insisted on opening all the bags of candy at once and sorting through it to keep his favorites. He’d most likely eat half of it before Halloween even came around. If that was the case, he’d just go and buy more. Surely he’d do that anyways. 

He had his little (big) pile of candies and the rest were placed in a big bowl. His leftovers for the children. He got the best candy, they got whatever was left.

He finally made it to the little fake bags of blood and tore the bag open, raising a brow.

“They could have at least tried to make this a little more realistic.” He rolled his eyes as if this was the worst thing to ever happen.

“Look at it! It’s bright red and it’s like water! This is not blood.”

“You’re right. It’s candy.” You countered, causing Austin to glare at you before he tossed the rest of them into the bowl for the trick or treaters.

“Well maybe I want some real blood.” He said, scooting closer to you on his large couch, hands coming up to gently massage your shoulders.

“It’s been so long baby, I need it. I’ve been an awfully good boyyy” he cooed against your ear, pulling your t-shirt down to reveal your neck to him. His eyes darkened as he inhaled deeply, mouth creeping closer to your neck as he licked over it ever so slightly, trying as hard as he could to contain himself.

“Pleaseee? Just a little taste. I’ll make it worth your while. Promise.” He whispered, letting his dull teeth drag over your skin.

“Fine.” You sighed. It was impossible not to give in to him. He was so convincing.

The second you gave him the go ahead, he pulled off his teeth caps, revealing sharp teeth underneath them. He tried his best to be gentle with you whenever you did let him feed, but he had a hard time controlling himself. 

You felt his hot breath fan against your neck and closed your eyes, waiting for the prick of his teeth puncturing your skin.

The first time the two of you did this you expected it to hurt a lot more than it did, but it really wasn’t that bad at all. Either that or you had a high pain tolerance. To you it just felt like a needle mixed with a bee sting? Maybe? It was hard to describe, you just knew it wasn’t that bad.

Finally you felt a prick, before a bit of a deeper pain. He’d bitten a bit harder than usual, but that was probably because it’d been so long since he’d been able to taste you like this.

You took a deep breath as you felt his teeth retract with a bit of resistance before his tongue gently ran over the pearls of blood that began to fall from the bite mark.

It was only slightly uncomfortable as he sucked gently on the skin, coaxing more blood out as he fed on you. His eyes were closed and he looked in a state of pure euphoria, enjoying nothing more than this moment. 

You let him do as pleased for a while before you began to feel a bit light headed. He was taking much more blood than usual.

You tried to coax him off slowly, letting him come back to his senses. He opened his eyes and with a bit of a grumble, pulled off of your neck, licking his lips. His teeth and tongue were stained red from your blood and his pupils were blown wide. 

He reached for a tissue and applied it to you neck with gentle pressure to get the bleeding to stop, although it had almost completely come to a stop already. He had nearly sucked you dry it seemed.  

“Sorry.” He said quietly, still coming back to himself after his feeding. It always took him several long moments to do so. 

“You said you’d make it worth my while? How do you plan on doing that, Austin?” You asked, tone sultry as you looked him over, seeing the bulge in his dark dress pants.

“You seem hard, dear. Just from my blood?” You chuckled, cupping his cheek.

He looked at you with a mix of annoyance but also desperation as he nodded, not at all embarrassed to admit it to you. In fact, he grabbed your hand in his own and placed it on his ever growing hard on, grinning as he rubbed your hand against it.

“You’re awfully needy today, Austin.” You shook your head, gently massaging his member as he leaned back on the couch, relaxing a bit more as he watched you intently. 

His eyes were dark and full, his chest rising and falling slowly and you couldn’t help but admire how beautiful the man in front of you was. He was truly a piece of art.

Slowly, you let your hand slip under his pants, the only barrier between your hand and his cock now his thin boxers. He was warm and heavy and so so hard as you squeezed the shape of him through his boxers, playing with him blindly. Not like you needed much help in finding his cock, it took up most of the space in his pants after all. 

Austin sighed contently as he watched you play with him, his hips arching up a bit into the touch, trying to get a bit more.

“You’re teasing me.” He breathed out, shaking his head as he pouted his lip in such a ridiculous way it made you laugh.

“Oh? You need more than this? You’re greedy. I went shopping for candy with you, I let you have some of my blood, and now I’m touching you but you still want more.” You scoffed, feigning disbelief and you must have been a pretty good actor because Austin almost believed it.

He decided to keep his mouth shut as he watched you slowly pull his pants and boxers down, revealing a fine patch of hair covering his groin. You took his cock back in hand and stroked over it carefully, watching as the skin along it moved with your hand. His cock was red and leaking, twitching every so often as he got progressively more worked up.

He subtly bucked his hips up into your hand, still not satisfied. Nothing was ever enough for him. Geesh. 

You removed your hand, much to his dismay, before he realized why you had removed it.

You spit into your hand, the bubbly saliva coating your palm before you carefully wrapped it around his length once again. Your hand now slid over him much easier as the spit coating your hand covered his cock.

Austin let out a groan, throwing his head back against the couch as he breathed heavily, his pale chest rising and falling underneath his robe. 

He had no intention of holding in his release, desperate to feel the sweet feeling and see him cum cover any part of your body.

“Close.” He grunted out, shaking his head as he gritted his teeth. Sure, he’d much rather enjoy being inside you, your mouth would even feel good, but you knew exactly how to touch him to make him feel just as good.

His cock twitched in your hand before he stilled for several seconds, the air in the room heavy. You both seemed to hold your breath until thick ropes of white cum came from the tip of his cock, falling over your hand and arm.

You stroked him through his release until he weakly tried to push you away, his length now tingling with sensitivity.

You reached down and grabbed his boxers, wiping off the sticky cum onto them before tossing them somewhere away.

Austin opened his eyes and looked at you, a grin plastered to his face as he looked at you. His sharp teeth had punctured the fragile skin of his bottom lip and it was bleeding steadily down his chin. You questioned yourself a bit for finding it so hot.

“Your lip-“ you furrowed your brows, reaching down to gently wipe the blood from his chin. You were just about to wipe the blood off on that same pair of boxers before he stopped you, grabbing your hand and gently suckling your thumb covered in his blood into his mouth. He suckled for a few seconds before letting it go, having cleaned all the blood off of your skin.

You went to go get cleaned up and he stopped you once more, pulling you back down to sit on the couch with him.

You gave him a puzzled look before he grinned, hands coming to rest at your waist.

“I did say I’d make it worth your while.” 

[saintlucretia]

Whiskey & Blood

Pairings: Austin Sommers x Female!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol. Blood feeding. Blood kink. Blood in general.

Summary: Y/N is a writer and moved to Provincetown for inspiration. She definitely has chosen the right place.

Good old Provincetown. Refuge for creative souls. A gray canvas for crime and dissolute living. My agent advised me to change the scenery and Provincetown seemed a perfect place. Peaceful town by the sea. Cozy houses. Beautiful nature. Bloodsuckers. 

I was sitting at “The Muse”, sipping wine. The bar was almost empty even though it was already 8 pm. The bartender was leaning against the counter, wiping glasses with a dirty napkin while a few people sipped overpriced cocktails a few feet away. They chattered on and on about something. I tuned them out, taking another sip of my wine as the door opened and a man walked in.

My eyes flicked up to him automatically, taking in his tall stature. He scanned the room and fixed his eyes on me. For about 30 seconds we were just staring at each other. He looked very familiar. Suddenly he started walking toward me. The stranger seemed to glide across the floor, his movements so fluid and confident that it made me think of a lion stalking its prey.  

He took a seat on the stool next to mine. Up close, he was even more handsome than I had initially thought, pale, with sharp, angular features and an intense gaze that seemed to burn into me.

“I have never seen you before. Just moved here?” he asked, turning to me.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. My voice was a little hoarse. It was probably from the wine.

He ordered a whiskey from the bartender. I tried to keep my eyes on the rest of the bar, but they kept wandering back to the man next to me. He was sitting really close and I could almost feel the heat radiating off his body. I swallowed hard, feeling my heart beat faster. He seemed oddly magnificent.

“Soo…How’s your writing, hm?” he asked smiling.

I frowned. “How you-” 

“You have that look about you.” He looked me up and down.

I raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And what would that be?” I asked, taking another sip of wine.

He chuckled. “Let’s just call it the ‘writer’s scowl’. I’d know it anywhere.”

I laughed softly. “Is that a polite way of saying I look tired and miserable all the time?”

“You have an incredible talent for twisting other people's words.” He laughed.

“So you could tell I was a writer just by looking at me?” I asked.

“Impressed?” He was annoyingly attractive. ���Also, I heard that a woman has rented a house here for three months. Who the hell else moves out from the capital to God's forgotten city?”

I tried to look nonchalant, but I was secretly impressed. Apparently, he’d done his homework. 

“Well, look at you. You’re basically Sherlock Holmes,” I said dryly, taking another sip of wine.

“Not as old though. And far more handsome,” he answered smoothly.

He leaned toward me, resting his elbows on the countertop. “You never told me your name by the way,” he said casually.

Well, meeting new people never hurts, especially in small towns.

“It’s Y/N,” I said carelessly. 

“Y/N. I don’t think I’ve heard anyone going by that name in a long time. It’s pretty.”

“And mind telling yours, suspicious stranger?” I smirked.

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended.

“I’d rather use the word mysterious.” He stuck out his hand toward me. “I’m Austin. Austin Sommers.”

I shook his hand, his fingers wrapping around mine. His palms were cold, but the contact was firm.

“Sommers? You are a playwright, aren’t you? I’ve read your last scenario.”

His eyes widened in mock surprise. 

“Goodness gracious. You’ve read my work?” he said, feigning shock. 

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, stop pretending to be all humbled. I know you’re a cocky bastard.”

His laughter was surprisingly warm. A small shiver ran through me, but I tried to ignore it. 

“I’m wounded, didn’t realize you thought so lowly of me already. I thought you liked me, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” I said slightly irritably, ignoring the way my heart was pounding in my chest. 

He grinned. “Oh yes, you are.” He picked up my hand lazily and brought it to his lips, his gaze fixed on mine. “At least tonight you are,” he murmured against my knuckles. 

Damn him. Why did he have to be so infuriatingly seductive?

“You’re really quite arrogant,” I muttered. “Too used to being the center of attention?”

His smirk widened. “And what’s wrong with that? I prefer being the star rather than being ignored.” His thumb started tracing a slow, torturous circle in the palm of my hand and I tried to contain the shiver that went through me. “I hope you don’t have a boyfriend or something?”

I bristled slightly at his tone, but shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. 

“It's none of your business.”

“Well, darling. If you were my girl, I wouldn’t let you talk to handsome strangers in bars.” He chuckled.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help being amused. The man was completely insufferable. 

“And what makes you think I would be your girl?” I asked dryly.

He chuckled again, his eyes glinting with undisguised interest. 

“So you can admit I’m a handsome stranger?” 

I groaned in annoyance. He was impossible. 

“You’re also aggravating as hell.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment?”

I shook my head, trying to look unimpressed, but I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. I was definitely having fun despite the fact that I was annoyed that he thought he could easily sleep with me.

“You are incredibly obnoxious. Have I told you that?”

He chuckled. I was getting the feeling that I could have called him every bad name in the universe, and he’d still be completely unfazed. 

“You’ve called me many things tonight. Obnoxious, arrogant... I think it’s safe to say you think I’m charming.”

“You really have no shame, do you?”

“None,” he agreed with a grin, leaning closer until I could almost feel his breath on my skin. “So no boyfriend, sweetheart?” he asked again. The use of the pet name made me feel strangely irritated and turned on at the same time.

“What, your deduction won’t help you this time?” I said showing one's teeth.

“No boyfriend then..” His expression was smug and I wanted to slap him. And kiss him. 

He leaned even closer and I could feel his thigh touching mine.

“If you mind my company, just say that. I don’t want to look like a creep,” he murmured, his voice all mock concern.

“Oh no, you’re already a creep,” I said dryly. 

He chuckled and my eyes involuntarily drifted to his mouth. I could almost feel it on mine. I mentally cursed myself for such thoughts.

He smirked, noticing that I’d been staring at his mouth.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “Keep looking at me like that and I might think you want me.”

I rolled my eyes and finished my glass.

He watched me sipping my wine with a glint in his eyes. 

“Look, sweetheart, I don’t try to get you into my bed, at least… yet. But! I admit I like you and I offer you friendship. It’s great to have a fellow writer around here.” 

“Ah, friendship. Sounds very plausible. I see your very friendly gaze over my body.” I raised an eyebrow skeptically and he chuckled, not seeming that surprised that I wasn’t buying his bullshit. 

“You know, friendship doesn’t necessarily exclude other things on the menu.” He leaned back slightly, resting his elbows on the countertop and looking me up and down with a lazy smile. “But enough of that, I really want you to be my good companion. Let’s chat like good warriors of words, shall we? ” 

He chuckled again, a sound that I was getting quite familiar with by now. 

“So, why did you come here to Provincetown, all by your lonesome? Writer’s block, hm?” he asked, resting his chin in his hand and studying my face intently. 

I looked away, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his attention flustered me. I huffed out a small laugh. He saw right through me. 

“How do you know I’m a writer and not a serial killer renting a house for three months?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He chuckled at my attempt at sarcasm. 

“Well, you look too fragile for a serial killer,” he said jokingly. 

“Fragile, am I?” I raised an eyebrow in slight annoyance.

He smirked and looked me up and down. “Mhm. You don't have the strength to harm anyone.”

I scoffed offended. “Let's see what you say when I lock you in my basement.”

He let out a loud, genuine laugh. 

“Ah sweet, little doll, I don’t think I’d mind ending up in your basement.” The seductive undertone of his words made me shiver.

I sighed.

“Is it that bad?” he asked.

“What?”

“Your writing block. Because I have something that will certainly cure it.”

I rolled my eyes, but I was curious. He had my attention. 

“If you are going to offer sex I will slap you.” 

He chuckled, not looking offended in the slightest. In fact, he looked amused. 

“Oh sweetheart, I wouldn’t dare, I don't take advantage of my friends' weaknesses.” He leaned closer to me again, his mouth inches from my ear. “I have a different kind of therapy in mind.” He put out a clear plastic bag from his pocket, there were black pills in it.

I stared at the pills for a moment, then back at him.  “What the hell are those?”

“These are very powerful pills. Guaranteed to boost your brain power. Get those creative juices flowing.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of intrigue and suspicion. 

“I thought you were better than drugging girls in bars,” I said with a hint of sarcasm.

“You see, doll, they’re not like other pills your pretty little mind is thinking of,” he said with a smirk. “They don’t numb your mind or make you feel all high. They enhance it. Imagine being able to access your creative side like you’ve never done before.” He leaned even closer. “Imagination and inspiration right there. No more writer’s block. Nothing holding you back anymore.”

“And how much for your “magic pills”? I asked skeptically.

He chuckled again. His voice was seductively hoarse.

“Free of charge,” he said softly. “Consider it a gift for a gorgeous, talented writer like yourself.”

“I don’t do drugs.”

“These are no drugs, sweetheart. Think of them as supplements,” he said gently. 

He was still incredibly close, looking me directly in the eye. His presence was overwhelming ”I promise they won’t get you addicted,” he murmured.

“That’s what a drug dealer would say.” I rolled my eyes.

“But I’m a good guy,” he said with playful annoyance, raising his hands in defense. 

He leaned to my ear once again and our faces were impossibly close, to the point where I could feel his breath on my skin. 

“I promise you, these pills will make you feel as if a whole new world will open up to you. Your imagination will be on fire. You’ll write like never before. I take them myself. And for your information, my latest script allowed me to buy a villa in Sicily.” He winked.

I sighed. I had only a week to send my agent a new chapter and I haven't written a word. God damn me, we live only once.

“C’mon doll, don’t you want to finally get that block in your brain out of the way?”

Was it suspicious of him to give me a pill for free? Yes. Was it a stupid thing to take a pill? Yes. Have I taken it anyway? Yes.

He smiled, seeing that he finally convinced me. 

“There you go,” he murmured, pulling out the packet of pills from his pocket again. 

He opened up the packet and took out one pill, holding it between his fingers in front of me. 

“Just one little pill,” he said, his voice low. “And you’ll see what I’m talking about. You’ll be able to let go of everything holding you back, every wall in your mind. And you’ll write like you’ve never written before.”

I took a pill and swallowed it with his whiskey. He was a good writer himself after all. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?

He watched as I swallowed the pill and a look of satisfaction crossed his face. 

“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now, just relax. It’s going to take about 20 minutes before it starts working. It won’t be long before you start feeling the effects. So you better go and write something.” He put out a black ink pen from his pocket and wrote something on a bar napkin.

“When you finish I expect you at my mansion. You can come any time, just ring the bell.”  He said, giving me the napkin. “Here’s my address.” 

I read the street’s name. “You live in that huge house??” I asked him, surprised. I mean, yeah, I supposed that he might be wealthy, but that mansion probably costs a few millions.  

“Yeah, it cost me a fortune, but that’s the only place where I can write peacefully.” He said, casually, standing up from his seat. “So, now you better hurry to your house and devote yourself entirely to work.”

“Should I learn about any side effects?” I asked a bit nervously. 

He took a few seconds to answer. “Nothing to worry about. Just… It would be better if you would go straight to me after you are done.”

“Okay.” 

He smiled charmingly and kissed me on the cheek quickly. “Good luck, talented soul.” 

I sat there for a moment, watching him leave. I took my purse to pay it off but noticed that Austin left money on the bar counter. Gentleman. 

I started feeling something. Something strange. It was disturbing like something was scratching my brain. I quickened my steps. The effects of the pill were slowly taking hold as I headed home. I felt an intense sense of focus and creativity, with thoughts rushing through my mind faster than normal. However, amidst this new burst of inspiration, I couldn’t shake off a strange and growing sense of unease.

Gladly, my house was right around the corner. As I reach the door, I fumble with keys, my fingers trembling from the strange sensations coursing through my body.

Eventually, I unlock the door and rush inside, collapsing onto my chair at the desk. The room is messy, filled with dozens of papers, unfinished manuscripts, and abandoned ideas. But none of that matters now. Not when the inspiration is finally flowing again. The world comes alive again.

I opened my laptop and started writing. The words poured out of me as if I was possessed. The ideas that I couldn’t form in something particular now were arranged in order in my mind. I felt like a God. The world outside has faded away, leaving only me and my words.

I finished with Sunrise. Light awakened me, distracted me and I looked away from the screen for the first time in 8 hours. It was done. I finished the book. Four hundred pages in one sitting. All done.

I felt dizzy. I stood up from the desk, stretching my tired muscles. My hands were shaky. I was thirsty. I poured myself a glass of water and drank it in one gulp, though it hadn’t satisfied my body. My gaze returned to the laptop screen again and I giggled. I have just finished a book. A brilliant book. It felt insane.

Wandering eyes stopped at the napkin that was on a table. Austin. I grabbed a coat and ran out of the door, heading to my car. The drive to Austin’s mansion felt like a blur. My mind was still buzzing from the hours spent writing, my body was weak from exhaustion. The rush of inspiration was slowly being replaced by a creeping sense of animalistic hunger.

Finally, I reached his house, a towering mansion that loomed in front of me like a giant castle. I killed the engine, my hands still trembling slightly as I walked up to the door and knocked. No one answered. Everything was quiet. I rang the doorbell at least 10 times before he opened the door. 

"Impatient, are we?" Austin smirked, standing against the door frame, casual and calm. A sharp contrast to my jittery, anxious state. "I'm assuming you're here because you finished?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

I nodded absentmindedly and pushed into the house, brushing against him. His smell. It was like I sensed it for the first time. I have never smelled anything like that before, it was driving me crazy. I froze, watching him with bleary eyes. 

Austin chuckled at my abrupt behavior, closing the door after me. "How are you feeling? Describe your state with details," he asked. He watched me as I stood there, staring at him like a deer in headlights. 

“I am hungry. Dizzy. I have just written four hundred pages in one sitting. No sleep.” I walked further into the house, looking around the room, not knowing what exactly I was looking for.

“I have just what you need. Take a seat and feel at home,” he said, motioning to the coach. “I will come back in a minute, sweetheart.”

The silence that followed was deafening. The only sound I could hear was a constant ringing in my ears. And my own heart, my blood that was circling through my body. I followed Austin to the kitchen. He put two large glasses on the table.

“I don’t need alcohol,” I said, watching his back.

He flinched a bit, at my sudden statement, though hadn't turned around. He took out something from the freezer and put it on a table as well. His body obscured the surface.

“It’s not alcohol. Consider it as… protein,” he said, concentrating on a drink making. 

I stepped closer. He was wearing a black silk robe that revealed his neck and part of the bare shoulders. I heard his breath. My eyes focused on a pulsating vein on his neck. I felt like a predator. Before I had time to understand what was happening, I found myself grabbing him from behind and my teeth closed on his neck. He gasped and in a second I felt my back hit the cold tiled wall, his hand on my neck.

“Easy, girl! What the hell do you think you're doing?” he asked, pinning me against the wall. “We have only one rule, sweetheart, don’t eat other eaters.” I tried to escape from his grip, but he was stronger than me. “Shh, calm down,” he whispered and I saw his left hand grabbing something from the table. “Open your mouth.” I obliged, not quite catching what was going on. I saw a clear plastic bag with red liquid in his hand. He opened a bag with his teeth and poured the contents of the bag into my mouth. Blood. Metallic nectar. It felt divine. 

I drank eagerly, my body was craving the warm liquid. Austin watched me, but still held me tight, his eyes dark with a mix of fascination and amusement. "That's it, sweetheart," he murmured, his grip on my neck weakening slightly. "Drink it all up. Can't have you losing control again, can we now?"

As I finished the bag he let me go, his hands dropping from my neck. He watched me, his expression unreadable. My body was trembling, I felt the last blood drops rolling down my chin.

"Feeling better?" Austin asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“What the fuck was that?” My voice hoarse. I was exhausted. 

Austin chuckled, the smirk on his lips growing wider. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"That, my dear, was a lesson." 

He paused, letting his gaze rake over her body, taking in my disheveled appearance. I probably looked wild and messy. And bloody.

“What?” I asked completely confused. 

"A lesson in control. You're a new eater, after all. I can't have you going around biting anyone who catches your eye."

“That’s the side effect? Am I a fucking cannibal now?!” 

He pushed himself away from the counter, moving closer to me.

"Not quite a cannibal, if it makes you feel better," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But you do have... an uncontrollable thirst now. A hunger that's difficult to ignore. When you are on the pill, you need blood to survive. That's just how it works, sweetheart."

“That’s crazy.”

Austin chuckled. "Crazy? This coming from the woman who just tried to bite my neck out of sheer hunger?" He opened a freezer again and took out a bottle of whiskey, pouring it in two glasses. “See, that’s the price for an ability to create masterpieces. You have talent and the pill helps you to direct it right. That’s not the big deal after all, is it?” 

“Whose blood was it?” I asked quietly, slowly sitting on the floor.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Y/N,” he replied, sitting next to me and putting glasses on the floor as well. "Drink. You're shaking," he said, pushing the glass towards me. 

He took a sip from his own glass, savoring the taste of whiskey. The silence between us was heavy, thick with unspoken words and questions. My head was spinning, my mind - empty from shock. I took a sip from my glass and glanced in his direction, noticing a bite mark on his pale neck. Stain of my lipstick, mixed with a bit of his blood. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Hm? Ah, for the bite?” He chuckled. “Don’t worry, it’s no big deal” “It will heal in a couple of days.”

“So you do that too? Blood drinking.”

“Yes. You will get used to it.” 

“But that’s horrible… I…”

“Only for the first time.” He smiled at me. “Enough about that, let's discuss your new book, do you feel excited?”

“I don’t know what I feel. It all seems like a dream… or a nightmare.” I took one more sip of whiskey. Alcohol was slowly calming my nerves. 

He turned in my direction and flinched, putting his hand to his neck. 

“Does it hurt?”

“Oh, It’s nothing. Though your little stunt was certainly… intense.”

“Show me.”

Austin tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck to my view. The bite mark on his skin looked like a violent hickey, the edges turning a dark shade of purple. It was still bloody in the middle.

I leaned closer. Austin watched silently. The air between us was thick with tension, the silence deafening.

He didn't move an inch as I inspected the bite mark. My fingers grazed the skin around it, the touch barely there but made him shiver a bit nevertheless.

"Satisfied?" he asked, his voice a bit hoarse. He suppressed a shiver, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Are you done playing doctor?"

After a few seconds of thinking I gently licked the wound. He muffled a hiss. 

“Does it hurt that much?” I asked, yet not pulling away.

He sighed. “No. It’s whiskey on your tongue.”

I licked the bite mark again, collecting all the left blood on his skin. Austin took a shaky breath.

“You're going to drive me insane," he said through gritted teeth. I gave his wound a wet kiss. The metallic taste of his blood was intoxicating. Austin gasped. I felt an urge to sink my teeth into his flesh. "Careful," he whispered, his voice rough. “Don't lose control.”

I hungrily bit his skin once again, not being able to stop, and felt his hand on my neck. Austin's breath hitched, unable to hold back a moan.

“You little... minx,” he muttered, tightening his grip on my neck. “I have to be careful with you. Are you still hungry?”

I nodded. 

“I have more.” He stood up and poured blood from another package into the wine glass and handed it to me. Austin watched as I drained the glass of blood, his gaze fixed on my mouth. I finished it in a few gulps.

“I am a monster,” I said quietly, putting an empty glass on the floor. 

“You’re not a monster,” he said softly. “You’re simply... different. One of the special ones.”

He crouched down in front of me, his hand gently caressing my cheek. “You need some rest now. Come, I’ll show you your bedroom.” Austin stood up and motioned me to follow him. 

“My bedroom?” I asked, following him.

“Unless you prefer to sleep in mine.” he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “You want me to stay here?” 

“You need time to adapt and I think it’s not the best idea to let you go out when you are in this condition.” 

We went upstairs and walked into the dark room. It was dimly lit, with only the moonlight filtering through the closed blinds. There was a large bed in the center, covered with soft silk sheets, and a few pieces of furniture scattered around. Though the room was a bit cold, it had a sense of intimacy and comfort.

"Here we are, the guest room," Austin announced, gesturing around the room. "I hope it's to your liking. Wait a little, I'll bring some clothes."

Austin headed into the adjoining room, leaving me alone in the bedroom. The silence of the room washed over, and the events of the day began to sink in.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped closer to the bed and sat down on the edge. The silk sheets were cool and soft beneath my hand.

A moment later, he returned with a bunch of clothes in his hands. Black silk pajamas. 

“Hope you don’t mind.” 

I took the clothes from him and ran my fingers through the smooth fabric.

"They're lovely. Thank you."

Austin leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms and tilting his head slightly.

"They will undoubtedly look even better on you." he winked. “Told ya friends can be useful here.” 

I placed the pajamas on my lap.

"You're quite the charmer,” I said sarcastically. 

He chuckled. “Well, rest now.” he smiled, closing the door. “Oh, I almost forgot. Just in case, my bed is always available, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes at his suggestive remark, but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of my lips.

I waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade away before standing up and stretching. The adrenaline from earlier seemed to have faded away, and tiredness slowly crept over me. Yawning, I undressed and put on Austin’s pajamas. It was big, yet made me feel cozy. I turned off the lights and lay on the bed.

I expected sleep to come easily, but my mind was still spinning, trying to process the events of the day. It’s just a dream, I will wake up at home, in my new bed. Only the taste of blood still lingered on my tongue made me finally believe that this all was true. I wrote a masterpiece in one sitting and the price for this was someone’s life. My eyes closed and in a second I was asleep. 

Have a good day/night <3

[fear-is-truth]

can I please request some headcannons as to what you think the Evans would be like when they’re drunk? thank you!!! :)))

⋆𐙚 ₊ the evans… drunk .ᐟ

ft. tate langdon ‧ kit walker ‧ frat!kyle spencer ‧ jimmy darling ‧ james patrick march ‧ cult leader! kai anderson ‧ austin sommers ‧ peter maximoff ‧ colin zabel ‧ warren lipka

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

tate would become a fucking menace. he’d pull pranks on the other ghosts, or just plain insult them. he finds endless amusement in being a little shit, glancing over at you to see if you’re laughing too.

he’d be glued to you, practically following you room-to-room like a newly adopted puppy, even if you’re just going to the bathroom. “where’re you going?” he’d stand right outside the door, waiting for you to come back, greeting you with a lazy, lovesick grin like he hasn’t seen you in hours.

drunk tate would mutter a lot—sometimes to himself, sometimes to you. it’d be of random thoughts, little complaints, or dreamy, barely coherent things like, “can’t believe you’re real…” his words would come out slurred and soft, but he’d have this intense focus on you, clearly wrapped up in his own head.

venting. a lot of venting.

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

would do his best to keep himself together, reminding you both to “take it easy,” but he’d totally stumble over his own plans. kit would try holding his drink steady, only to spill half of it, laughing it off with an, “ah, whoops!” as if it was the funniest thing ever.

his sense of humor would skyrocket, and he’d be doubled over laughing at the simplest things. someone makes a lame pun? he’s cracking up. you give him a look? pure comedy gold.

his slurred boston accent would get thicker, making everything he says sound even more sexier.

would also get extra honest and sappy, letting his emotions spill out in the most genuine way. he’d look at you with teary eyes and tell you how much he appreciates you, going on about how grateful he is to have found you.

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

kyle wouldn’t get blackout drunk, he’d getting just tipsy enough to be completely adorable. his cheeks would be flushed a rosy pink, and he’d have that big, goofy grin on his face.

would start singing along to whatever song is playing.

even with a few drinks in him, kyle’s the one guy who would still keep an eye out for anyone who needs help. if he saw a random girl looking unsteady, he’d guide her to a safe spot, and if she had to throw up in the bathroom, he’d stay with them, holding her hair. then he’d call her friends to get her.

if any one of his frat brothers try and mess with you he’d literally fistfight them.

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

drunk jimmy would be all over you, getting incredibly touchy, pulling you into his lap whenever he gets his hands on you. he’d slur sweet, filthy things out loud — it’s embarrassing as hell but kinda hot.

would keep drinking even after you told him to stop. “nah, babe,’m fine—jus’ one more i swear.” of course, this would end with him either passing out or vomiting.

if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way, drunk jimmy would be ready to kick some serious ass. “what’re you starin’ at, huh? you think you can just look at her like that?!” you’d have to hold him back before he got into full florida man mode.

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

i think james would have crazy good alcohol tolerance.

he would be uncharacteristically handsy. insisting you to sit on his lap, arm winding possessively around your waist. he’d hold you close, running his fingers up and down your arm or resting his hand at the small of your back.

“you’re such a vision, my dear,” in that slurred, (fake) brahms accent.

james, in his drunken fascination, would suddenly become enchanted by the smallest, strangest details in the room. he’d point out the ornate carvings on the furniture or the imperfections in a painting, waxing poetic about how they contribute to the room’s “soul.” “just look at that crack in the wood,” he’d remark, “is it not beautifully flawed, just like us?” (he’s a dangerous tainted & flawed man ykwim)

handing you his cigar, he’d watch you intently, clearly enamored with the idea of you lighting it for him. he’d guide your hand, fingers lingering over yours, taking pleasure in the ritual. “steady now, darling,” he’d drawl, a pleased smirk on his face as he watches the flame catch.

would become even more extravagant with his compliments. he’d shower you with praise, admiring everything from the way you smile to the way you hold yourself. “my dearest, you bring such grace to this place,” he’d say, gazing at you with genuine adoration. “i am, as ever, your humble servant.”

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

kai would do his absolute best to act stone-cold sober, even after chugging straight vodka or something hardcore. he’d stand up straighter, make eye contact, and talk in his usual serious tone, almost daring you to suggest he might be tipsy. if he starts slurring? he’d blame it on something like tiredness to keep his ego intact.

thousand yard stare.

would get worked up over small things, flipping into-rants about whatever’s on his mind, each one more dramatic than the previous. topics vary on politics, the state of society, or how he’s totally not drunk.

when tipsy, kai would be a touch more lenient. allowing you to sit on his lap, play with his hair, maybe even cracking a slight smile at your jokes.

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

austin would absolutely start singing instead of speaking after getting a bit smashed. belting out tunes or turning every sentence into a musical number, “who’s ready for a refiiiillll~?”

every drink would require a toast, and they’d progressively get more absurd and inappropriate. “to art, sex, and whatever the fuck this cocktail is supposed to be!”

would be shamelessly flirty with everyone, but his attention would always come back to you.

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

his hyper ass would be bouncing off the fucking wall.

would steal people’s drinks mid-sip or rearranging furniture in the room for no reason.

“bet i can chug this entire keg and still run a lap around the earth. wanna see?”

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

colin’s drunk vocabulary would be filled with “erm” and “errr,” with every other sentence stumbling out in a mess of slurred words. “errr… what i—what i meant was… wait, i had it. it was, uh… gone now, but it was good, i promise.

if anyone tried to bother you or made a lewd comment, colin would get hella territorial in his tipsy state. “hey, buddy, why don’cha back off the milady, alright? she’s—she’s with me.”

would insist on carrying your coat, guarding your drink, or even offering to dance with you.

all in all, a total sweetheart.

⟢ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐊𝐀.

warren would be that guy at the party, jumping off rooftops into pools or climbing on furniture while shouting, “heyyy watch this!” he’d have no fear and thrive on being the centre of attention.

if body shots were happening, you could bet warren would be in the thick of it, grinning ear to ear.

would totally dominate beer pong.

his version of dancing would involve spinning you around wildly or grinding against you to whatever beat was playing.

sex in the bathroom or smoking dope. or both.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[gingerteafairy]

𐙚⋆.˚ 𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝

The house was a mess, papers, crayons and pencils scattered everywhere. You had just finished your tasks when your gaze landed on Austin and your little daughter, who was running back and forth, playing with boundless energy. The television hummed in the background, its presence almost forgotten, while Austin’s laptop sat open on the table, a half-finished draft lingering on the screen.

“This, Amélie…” Austin began standing and walking to the small girl, lifting her into his arms near the television. Jane Birkin’s interview played on the screen, her effortless elegance radiating through the room. “French movies are true cinema. Your name is from one of them, ma chérie. The Fabulous Destiny of Amélie Poulain. I saw it with your mom on our first date."

"Really?" She beamed, hugging him. "And who is she, daddy? On TV."

"Jane Birkin, my dear." He said proudly, ruffling her hair. "She's my muse.”

“I thought mommy was your muse,” Amélie chimed in, her curious voice carrying a certain wisdom beyond her years. Her words made you look up, a soft chuckle slipping from your lips.

“You're very right, mon coeur." Austin laughed, pressing a gentle kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Your mother is our greatest muse. She inspires me to write everyday and now i'm writing a book about you too. About your favorite thing."

"Bees? I love bees." She grinned as Austin nodded, her giggles filling the air. "Will you show me?"

"I'll read for you before sleeping. Daddy's almost done with the story. Just wait a little."

His gaze flickered toward you then, something warm and unwavering in his expression. The chaos of the house, the scattered papers, the half-forgotten work—it all faded into the background for a moment. Because here, in this simple exchange, was everything that truly mattered.

[evanpetersfangirl]

My friend told me that Evan peters is ugly (I ghosted them after)

[embraceanewmaneachnight]

y’all are SLEEPING on Austin Sommers like that bloodthirsty theatre kid is fucking hot

[taintandviolent]

in honour of yesterday being 100 days to halloween.... here's a little preview at the four Halloween fics I've got planned (for now)