#frat!austin

[elvisabutler]

phila

summary: he was a frat boy. you were not a sorority girl. could i make it any more obvious. or how you fall for a frat boy and an incident happens that makes you realize how much he cares for you and just how much his friends do too. fandom: austin butler rating: m but not because anyone has sex more for rough content. pairing: austin butler ( frat boy ) x female reader word count: 2823 warnings: talking shit on fraternities and sororities. mild insecurity. a bit of misogyny. frat bros being heinous human beings. non consensual drug use. violence in the form of a drunken brawl. roofies being mentioned and used. dudebros being assholes. beer bottles being thrown. implied undressing while unconscious done by a trusted person. completely averted attempt at sa/sexual assault. author’s note: y'all can essentially blame @prompted-wordsmith for this one because they're the one who put the little nugget in my brain back when we talked about this. heed the warnings, please. i didn't tag this as austin's main post tag because i know it deals with a sensitive topic but it's also probably— the last frat austin piece i might write unless anyone has something they specifically want to see. same goes for my tags for all of you. which, truly i refrain from tagging when it comes to things i feel most of you would prefer not to read and this is no exception. i believe i put all the warnings but feel free to tell me if i missed any. hope you enjoy if you read and thank y'all for your support. also i know not all chapters of SAE are like this but they are known to be a— bad frat so to speak.

Going to frat parties is not your idea of fun. It's a fact that Austin knows and will usually acknowledge and allow you to just skip them with promises that he won't do anything funny with any other girls. Not that you don't trust him, but you know how touchy he can get while tipsy, and you know as well as anyone sometimes touches can be misconstrued. There are lone exceptions, though, the parties that Austin begs to have you at so he can show you off and tell everyone how much of a genius his girlfriend is. They're always held at other frat houses, and every so often, you start to wonder if you're being dragged around like a trophy only to realize that's not the case at all. If anything, it's him trying to prove to everyone that you're kind of settling for him and that you could get better guys. It's a silly notion, you think, but it is what it is and you go along with it for Austin's delight only to remind him when you're safely in each other's arms in bed that he's the only one for you. Besides, what sort of girl is supposed to go for the premed and theater guy, hm?

Tonight is one of those nights where you're in a simple black and white jumpsuit and Austin is in what you like to call party causal. Or a step up from his normal tank tops but not full formal or business wear, but it involves jeans that make his ass look flawless so you're pretty sure you're winning just because of that one sole fact. It's easier to hitch a ride or just walk with Austin when it comes to heading to these parties and tonight is no different with you sitting in the passenger side of his car as his hand interlocks with yours.

"You're going to have to let go of my hand, Austin. Pretty sure no one is going to let us live it down if we get into a car accident because we both know better," you laugh, pulling his head up to your lips to kiss it as he shrugs.

"I can drive one handed." He attempts to defend his actions only to earn a look from you that has him sighing. "Hitting the curb that one time doesn't count."

A laugh erupts from your mouth as you finally move your hand away despite his pout with those plush lips of his. "Right. Do I have to call Darce and them to get more proof or do I win this argument just because you knew I was going to mention that?"

Austin pauses and looks for a moment like he's going to present a defense worthy of a brilliant lawyer before, "I think we're at a draw."

There's a moment where you look like you're going to playfully argue before you just smile. "Drive, Butler."

Normally Austin has a tendency to stick close by to you at these parties, not because he doesn't trust you, but because he- despite being a nice and trusting person knows better than to trust a lot of the frats on campus. Most of the time any thing that happens are just rumors but he knows through the grapevine that there's a few people who shouldn't be on campus but have Daddy's money to help them avoid getting kicked out. But this particular party has some pledges he lost out on and likes to check up on from time to time. You're a big girl, though, and he knows you'll be fine. He knows if anyone tries anything they're in for a world of hurt before he even knows there's a problem.

In hindsight, he should have known better than to leave you alone at this particular party. The time before the party had been a little rushed and your normal preparation of having enough to drink ahead of time was left by the wayside. It meant this time around you were nursing a coke trying to be the designated driver at a house most people know better than to have open drinks at. You try to mingle as best you can, attempting to use this to build some connection to someone knowing that despite everything this frat is one of the richer and thus more connected ones and it shows in the talk you hear among some people. Your eyes instinctively seek out Austin more than once and are relieved that he's close enough to you that no one would dare try anything until you find yourself face to face with a guy you've met before.

"Y/N! Fancy seeing you hear. AB finally let you out?" The guy— Jackson, you think his name is— smiles, his canines being exposed when he does. He reminds you of a wolf in all the worst ways.

"Jackie," you mockingly croon, setting down your drink for just a moment. "Cute how you think Austin can tell me what to do like that. Andrew let you run around off the leash?"

You watch as a muscle in Jackson's jaw twitches and you want to laugh but you stop yourself when you see him start to open his mouth. "Funny. AB knows how to pick his bitches. He sent me over here to talk to you actually. Said he wanted to mend bridges between our two houses. He knows Aussie's a little mad about that—"

"How you sniped the kids you called charity cases in your pledge class? When everyone knew they were shoo ins for Phi Kap. But little Andy got it in his head they needed to SAE boys. Yeah, I heard the story." The words come out more vicious than you intend them to but strangely Jackson doesn't react. "What?"

Jackson laughs and for some reason you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up almost as if to warn you of something. It's then that you remember you set down your drink and pick it back up. As you're picking it up, you miss how Jackson smiles. "You really are something else. Shame you settled for the poor white trash surfer boy. When you get tired of him, you'd fit right in here, Y/N. Fucking mean enough."

With that Jackson walks away and you find yourself wondering what just happened as you take a sip of your Coke. Austin catches your eye from across the room and winks, smiling at you before turning to talk to the freshman he was already talking to.

Austin knows that two things are wrong when he looks up thirty minutes later after catching up with multiple Freshman and being interrupted by some asshole whose name he didn't even catch. You're not where you've been for almost the entire party which wouldn't be strange except he can't really find you anywhere. He pulls out his phone to see a missed call from you, a voicemail and a text message that looks like the ones you send him when you've fallen asleep with your phone in your hand. That alone worries him and has him listening to the voicemail only to hear your voice sound wrong in a way that has him seeing red. It doesn't take him long to find one of the upperclassmen— Trey, he thinks? Maybe Trevor, Austin honestly doesn't care as long as he has some idea of where you went.

"Did you see where the girl I came here with went? My girlfriend— She—" Austin trips over his words, suddenly reverting back to that shy boy he once was when he was younger unable to order his own food. The man rolls his eyes.

"The uptight one? Dude, she went to where the bathrooms are. Maybe the bedroom?" His hand motions in the direction of a hallway and Austin shoves his way past multiple people to the third bathroom where he hears something that sounds like you groaning. Austin doesn't waste another second before he's against the door saying your name and somehow you manage to get the door unlocked.

Austin finds you on the floor near the toilet and all he thinks is that you look exceptionally out of it. Your eyes barely focus on his face and when trying to reach him you decide the under the sink counter door is his leg. "Aus—" You start before trailing off. "Why'm I in the bath'oom?"

Part of why Austin likes you— loves you as much as he does is how well spoken you are so hearing you like this makes him so terrified that he's grabbing your hands and yanking you up with a grunt. Your body practically melts into his before you hear another knock at the door and see some of the boys from Austin's frat looking at the scene. Kelvin's the one who speaks first.

"Did they—Aus, man, you know what this looks like."

Austin's grip tightens around your waist and you look up at him and press your nose into his shirt, inhaling his comforting scent even as your mind jumps and swirls and does everything in between being normal. "Tight. Too tight."

Everything feels too tight, your jumpsuit, your bra, his arms but you can't figure out how to get out those words as Austin's grip loosens just a hair when he turns to look at his friends. The boys he'd trust with his life and with yours. "I— I don't know how the fuck they did this but find whoever did it. Fucking— she can barely stand up and she wasn't drinking. You guys know that. Who does this— I'm just here to talk to the newbies not to— Not to put my girlfriend in harms way."

It's then that Austin watches Xavier and Adam already leaving the doorway and after a moment he hears a crack of a beer bottle breaking.

"Who did it to Y/N? We just want to talk, man! Take you so you can see your handiwork!" Xavier's voice silences the crowd before there's a rush of voices and cursing that has Luke joining the fray only for you to hear him shout,

"Where the fuck did you get a beer can like that?" It's a valid question but one he says while grabbing a foldable chair and brandishing it in his hands as someone— Trey? Trevor? Alexander? Someone tries to run off after laughing at the scene.

"She deserved it," he mocks as Luke steps closer to him chair still in hand. On your shaky legs Austin starts to try and lead you back to his car before Luke does something you never thought was possible outside of pretend WWE matches. He throws a chair on top of someone's head. Your ears faintly hear the cracking of wood and you wince against Austin before he holds you tighter to him.

"You're fine. They're— They're not gonna hurt you." Austin whispers against your hair and you can smell the faint traces of alcohol on his breath. "I think they're gonna hurt all of the upperclassmen of SAE but not you."

As if on cue there's a bottle that flies by Austin's head and shouts that sounds like multiple of Austin's friends trying to tackle someone.

"Fuckin' tryin' to knock him out?" "Already messed with his girlfriend!" "Your balls that small Andy??"

In another time and place you'd be laughing and while telling the boys it's not worth it but honestly you can't right now. Truthfully if you could right now you'd be joining with them, getting in hits just the same as the rest of them. It frustrates you to not be able to but at the same time there's a warm feeling in your chest unrelated to whatever is circulating in your system at knowing these boys are willing to do this for you.

Someone throws another bottle at Austin's head and it barely misses you before there's another set of shouts and more cursing and general ruckus. Austin pulls you closer once more and starts to head to the door as you hear Tom's bellow to Austin.

"B, get her outta here! We got this! Just get us some rides!" Rides home is what he means but he's interrupted by someone trying to climb on his back. "Now what the fuck are ya doin' bruh?"

Austin takes that as a cue to rush out, only stopping for a moment to shout something about not getting arrested before getting you both in the car. He knows he's not supposed to drive after he's had any sort of liquor but you're in no state to drive yourself and he doesn't trust that his car will stay in one piece if he leaves it here. The second he starts the car your eyes start to droop down and he frowns looking at you.

"I'm so sorry, babe."

You wake up the next morning to Austin on the phone sounding more agitated the more words are spoken. It's a strange thing to see but even more strange is how you're in a pair of pjs you've left in his room at the house with no recollection of how you got in them.

"I know it goes against the code of— they drugged my girlfriend. I think when comparing the two we have the moral high ground. I'll take— I'll take punishment for some of them but you're not shutting down our chapter. I'll handle— yes I can handle it!" His next words are a little incomprehensible and you just sort of stare at him while pulling a blanket tighter around you until he hangs up and realizes you're awake.

"Hey. You— How're you feeling?"

You pause before answering and sigh. "Like shit. I don't— What happened last night? I remember bathrooms and beer bottles? And a chair?"

"I— I'm not really sure. You were where you were at one point, then you disappeared into the bathroom after you drank something? I don't— I really don't know. I found you when I realized and when I did. The boys and I realized you were— uh— that you had something in you that was definitely not something you took willingly." Austin moves to sit on the bed next to you and pulls you close to him. "I got you out of there and— there might have been a few injuries? Involving fists and chairs and bottles. General mayhem."

A silence falls over the two of you before your eyes widen. "You mean they— Did you just tell me I had a bunch of frat bros fighting for me?"

Austin can't help the quiet laugh that leaves him as he nods. "And I didn't even ask them to. They saw you and some of SAE said some— very stupid things and yeah. Tom shooed me out before a bottle hit us. They're in a lot of trouble right now but no one got arrested which is a— It's surprising but I don't question the charm of some of us."

"What about the whole frat—" The words die on your lips as soon as Austin's hand touches your cheek and he shakes his head.

"We'll be fine. Fighting with another frat is bad but not nearly as bad as members drugging someone on purpose considering I think— I think they singled you out specifically. Or at least figured you'd be a fun target. I don't— It doesn't matter. We look better in comparison." Austin explains, watching you bite your lip. "It's fine, babe. I promise. Honestly, they care more about you and if you're okay. Just like me."

Which is to honestly say, stop worrying in Austin's roundabout way. You don't speak for a good five minutes, choosing instead to listen to Austin's heartbeat before you finally move to try and get up. Austin quickly puts a stop to that even as you frown. "Austin, I'm fine just let me get up."

"Future doctor's orders. You're staying in bed today just so I can keep an eye on you. Promise you can do whatever tomorrow. Just— please, babe."

After a moment you move to crawl back into bed and glare a bit at him. "Go get me food, then. I'm— I think I'm so hungry I'm nauseous? I don't know just— food." You stare at the door and swear you hear someone walking by it. "And I guess send in the guys? Are they being creepy at the door?"

The answering yell of no has you and Austin laughing as he opens the door to find Tom chilling against the door, before barging in. "They sent me for recon. Ya good?"

You share a look with Austin as you nod. "Yeah, go tell them I'm good. And that next time try and defend my honor a little more subtly. And tell Luke he's got to show me that chair trick."

taglist: none for this.

[usarmytrooper]

Lacrosse dude

[bcofl0ve]

his hand being the size of her face does something to my spirit

[burninlovebutler]

Austin with Mike Faist, Boyd Holbrook, Karl Glusman & the cast of the BikeRiders

// cred: austinbutlerturk on IG

lord have mercy jesus christ

[nouearth]

ok, just as a warning, i edited the jock list to five guys. it was too much!

[romantiqueofthemind]

I realized I haven’t posted a writing in a FAT MINUTE IM SO SORRY!! I’ll post something from my drafts so you guys can be well fed!

I might finish up the Elvis Blurb I started. Weekends are usually my writing days so I’ll try and knock some out for you guys so I can post more.

[coco-loco-nut]

Miss Americana

Pairing: Lando Norris x American!Reader

Summary: Moments with Lando and his silly, American, girlfriend

TW: AMERICA! RAHH🦅

a/n: i wrote this super quick bc the ideas were bombarding me at work and it is not proofread. it’s also silly and stupid as an apology for my last oneshot which seemed to break y’all.

requests are open! masterlist part two

—————————————————

Lando didn’t mind you were American, in fact, that might be why he loved you. You poked fun at his britishness, even trying to copy his accent. It’s almost like a joke with you two.

“Baby, where are you?” Lando whines from his gaming chair, needing attention, having texted you a minute ago asking you for cuddles.

“I’m declaring my independence!” You yell back, your voice coming from outside. He pauses his game and trudges towards your voice. The two of you are spending time in your American residence, near Miami. He spots you near the pool, holding something out.

“Baby, what are you doing?” He spots your camera recording.

“Happy December 16th!” You grin, dropping a box of tea into the pool. Lando’s brows furrow, thinking back to the book he read about the Revolutionary War. Needing to have some sort of reference for your jokes, he bought a book with the basics to read on the flights to races.

“Oh… I get it. Babe, we aren’t even IN Boston,” Lando says after a minute, and after you start laughing, he does too. Lando quickly grabs your phone and pushes you in the water too.

“Rude,” you huff, grabbing the tea box and climbing out of the pool. If it weren’t for your grin, Lando would be running away. You grab your phone and Logan pops out from behind the bushes as Lando’s phone dings.

“Wait, I thought you were recording,” Lando says, his eyes narrowing at Logan.

“Nope,” you pop the p and walk inside, the video quickly going viral and spreading around the drivers group chats. Logan makes his quick escape, leaving Lando to wonder why he agreed to associate with Americans.

———

“GO GO GO GO! YES! TOUCHDOWN!” You yell, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Lando surprised you with a trip to your alma mater’s biggest football game of the season. He asked Logan for help with the surprise, but the Floridian didn’t mention, well, how much of a cult the school was.

“Logan said it was going to be cold, but not this cold,” Lando grumbles, taking a cute pic of you cheering.

“Babe, he has terrible taste in schools, why would you take his advice? Also, this is the northeast, it’s obviously going to be way colder than Austin will be next week,” You snort before joining in on a chant. Lando was only slightly regretting choosing seats right beside the student section, however, he could get behind the drinking. Especially tailgating. When you drug him out of his nice warm bed to hang outside the stadium at 9am with your old college friends, he was skeptical. All it took was one freshly grilled meal and a beer to turn that around. He is planning on creating an American tailgate for the race next week in Austin.

“American universities are... something else,” Lando smiles at you. Seeing as you are only one year removed from college, you had plans for the weekend.

“Just wait until we go to the bars later. Oh! And the frat party tomorrow, it’s family weekend and my cousin is getting us in,” you smile back at him. It was indeed a long, drunk, weekend, but Lando couldn’t help but admit that he would be more than happy to come back for more games throughout the year.

———

Austin was something else the next weekend. You and Logan were quick to jump on board with Lando’s idea for a tailgate, and you all gathered at the Airbnb that you rented the night before the race, right after qualifying. The team’s socials loved the idea as well as the Formula One social media team, so you paid for nothing as the drivers and friends gathered at the Airbnb for your and Logan’s tailgate. You made sure there were multiple coolers full of alcohol, soda, and water while Logan manned the grill. You wore a NFL football jersey while Logan repped a Miami Dolphins jersey.

“Why are those two arguing,” Max asks Lando, observing you and Logan fight about whose team is better.

“Either college football or pro football,”

“American football, mate,” George says, standing on the other side of Max.

“All I’m saying is that you have TERRIBLE taste in teams!” You huff in Logan’s direction. He rolls his eyes, turning his focus to the grill as you grab a beer. Lando, who is sporting your alma mater’s football jersey, walks over to the two of you.

“She’s not wrong, Logan,” Lando chuckles as the blonde boy throws his arms up in the air in frustration. Honestly, the only thing that can top the bickering between the both of you is when you pull out the jell-o shots and people start grabbing food.

Half an hour later, you turn on the projector to the screen, a Disney logo behind you. You take position in front of the screen, remote in hand as a microphone. The crowd turns their attention to you. Lando’s lips twitch up in amusement.

“I just got three things to say. God bless our troops. God bless America. AND GENTLEMEN. START YOUR ENGINES!” You yell as you hit play on the remote.

“Okay, focus. Speed. I. Am. Speed.” The voice says over the screen. You and Logan decided to culture everyone, making the end of the tailgate partly a movie night. Eventually, everyone finds a seat in the lawn chairs scattered in front of the screen. Lando grabs your hand and kisses the back of it when you sit down.

“I love you, y/n,” he smiles softly as he nurses his beer.

“Love you more, Lan, but not as much as America,” you chuckle, teasing him. He playfully rolls his eyes, knowing you are jesting.

“Are you always so… American?” Daniel laughs as he sits in the open chair beside you.

“Shut up before she drunkenly sings the national anthem,” Lando hisses, cringing at the time he mistakenly took you to a karaoke pub in London on July 4th. Honestly, he should’ve known better.

“I hate you all,”

[joelhoney]

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads. 

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.” 

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?” 

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past. 

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.” 

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages. 

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately. 

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts. 

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous. 

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained. 

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom. 

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on. 

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his. 

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight. 

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—” 

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him. 

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small. 

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.” 

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts.  The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever. 

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

[fear-is-truth]

can you do evans reacting to you giving them head unprovoked lol

𝜗ϱ ┆ GIVING (UNSOLICITED) HEAD .ᐟ

── THE EVANs ‧ h e a d c a n o n s ೃ࿐

ft. tate ‧ kit ‧ kyle ‧ jimmy ‧ james ‧ kai ‧ austin ‧ peter ‧ warren ‧ colin

⟣ TAGS ‧ NSFW | f! reader | mdni

a/n: cackling at this rn… thx anon

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐍.

a devious smirk would appear on his face

because this is basically one of his (many) fantasies coming true

plus he’s like horny all the time

a whimperer and a moaner. everyone in the house would know that he’s getting head

⟢ 𝐊𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑.

needs a bit convincing (scared of getting caught— whether it’s by the orderlies in briarcliff or the kids in the house)

there’s a bit of hesitation at first

don’t get me wrong, he loves the feeling of your pretty lips wrapped around his dick

it’s just that Kit is more of a giver than a receiver (aww)

would definitely offer to return the favour after you’ve pleasured him

⟢ pre death .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

if you’re intoxicated at a party and offered him, he’d definitely refuse

even if he’s your boyfriend

he’d switch from party animal mode to protective mode and look after you

steering you clear from doing anything you’ll regret afterwards

e.g offering random guys blowjobs because he knows his frat brothers don’t have morals or common decency

⟢ franken .ᐟ 𝐊𝐘𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑.

would happily accept it

and who can blame him?

⟢ 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆.

would stare at you with almost a comical expression of confusion

but he’s not gonna pass on a free bj from a pretty girl like you

real sweet afterwards. helping you clean up, giving you a glass of water etc.

would return the favour. he really knows how to please a lady with his hands ;)

⟢ 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇.

would be mortified at your wanton behaviour

maybe if he’d just finished murdering someone and you offered him head, James would happily accept

but under most circumstances, he couldn’t approve of your “unladylike” behaviour (as if murder is socially acceptable… this man has double standards.)

“you little minx…”

expect to be punished later lol

⟢ cult leader .ᐟ 𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍.

surprised but wouldn’t show it

would take it as his due

takes great pleasure in gagging you with his cock while calling you a slut

it’ll become a regular occurrence, where he’d expect blowjobs from you wherever and whenever

not that he cares if his followers see

⟢ 𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒.

would accept in a heartbeat

moans like a total slut on the couch

he’d be very vocal and talk dirty

tells you that you have world-class, olympian level mouth game

⟢ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐊𝐀.

are you fucking kidding? hell yeah

a whore for sloppy head

grunts and groans

might be unintentionally rough and grab your hair

makes up for it by getting high with you and probably more sex

⟢ 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐗𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐅𝐅.

he’d laugh it off, thinking that you weren’t being serious

but when you’ve made it clear that you were serious, he’d be a flustered mess

really sensitive

whiney and fidgety

⟢ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍 𝐙𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋.

his face would blush fifty shades of red

palms sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy

tries to maintain a somewhat calm facade but he’s a total mess

would instinctively place his hand on the back of you head then wonder if that made him seem too dominating or eager

would be at a loss of words

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

[joeshiestyslover]

tennessee whiskey- c. sturniolo

pairing: chris sturniolo x countrygirl!reader

summary: working at a bar in texas to make some extra money for college is far from interesting, with you mostly serving drunk college kids and random middle-aged men. however, one night a certain set of triplets walk into the bar, and one of them in particular catches your eye.

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, use of nicknames (playboy, cowgirl, baby)

masterlist

lowercase intended

working at a bar has it's fair share of ups and downs. sure, you get hit on by creepy men and desperate frat guys, but it pays well and you get free drinks.

you began working at the crown and anchor pub for the past two years, since you got to college at the university of texas. you honestly enjoy your job. your coworkers are nice enough and the patrons aren't awful, many of them being fellow college students.

you grew up in about thirty minutes out of austin on a ranch filled with horses, pigs, cows, chickens, and basically every farm animal. it's not like you're not used to the city, but if you're being honest, you much prefer the quiet and serene rural areas to the busy and bustling cities.

when you moved to austin permanently for college, it was a little bit of a culture shock. you were used to rodeos and horseback riding instead of large buildings and loud concerts. but after a while, you began to adjust. you started going out more, making friends, and, of course, getting a job at the bar that sits right on the corner of the university of texas.

tonight is relatively the same to all the previous ones. you're in your work outfit which consists of a black tank top and short denim shorts with your cowboy boots. you've been pouring drinks all night, and occasionally turning down random frat boys. suddenly, you see three identical guys sit down at your side of the bar. you immediately take notice of one of them. he's the only one with no tattoos and noticeably longer hair which is covered by a light blue backwards baseball cap.

you allow yourself to admire him for a few seconds before walking over to the three boys, "hi, welcome in. can i get you boys something to drink?" the triplets look up at you, chris immediately looking you up and down. "what would you recommend?" nick asks. "well depends what you're looking for. you want a beer? dark liquor? something fruity?" you reply. chris takes a second and scans the brands of beer lined up behind you. "i'll take a michelob ultra please." you nod and grab a pint glass, going over to the tab and pouring the beer into it. you set it down in front of him before looking over at the other two triplets. "umm can i get a tequila sunrise?" nick requests with a small smile on his face. "of course." you look to matt. "i'll just have a coke please." you then begin to prepare both the boys' drinks before setting them in front of them. "anything else i can get you guys?" you inquire. chris looks you up and down once again before responding, "yeah i was wondering if i could get your name?" he smirks at you. "y/n." you say. “pretty name. i’m chris.” he responds. “thanks. it’s nice to meet you chris.” you give him a small smile. before chris can say anything else, another patron at the bar signals for you to refill his beer. you turn back to chris, “excuse me.” you walk over to the man and grab his glass, refilling it. even after you’ve walked away, chris’ eyes never leave your figure. there’s just something so entrancing about you. “you’re staring.” his thoughts are broken by nick’s voice to his left. “what? no i’m not.” he tries to deny, but his older brother knows better than to believe it. “uh huh, sure.” he takes a sip of his drink. “dude, just ask for her number or something.” matt chimes in. “yeah don’t be a pussy. just ask her out. it’s not hard.” chris just rolls his eyes. “when’s the last time you’ve been on a date nick? like three years ago?” “shut up.”

after about ten minutes of the triplets arguing over whether or not chris should ask you out, you walk back over to the triplets to check on them and talk to chris “how are you guys doing over here?” chris’ head immediately shoots up at the sound of your voice. before he can speak, nick does. “we’re doing great, but my brother has something to ask you.” chris’ eyes widen as nick and matt give him a sly smile. you raise an eyebrow as chris turns his head back to you. “well then ask away.” he’s silent for a few seconds “what time do you get off?” “i get off at 9:30. why do you ask?” chris’ confidence slowly begins to make a reappearance when he asks, “i was wondering if you wanted to do something. with me.” you tilt your head slightly, “you wanna take me out on a date, playboy?” a smirk slowly appears on his face, “yeah. i wanna take you out on a date if you’ll let me.” you ponder it for a few seconds. “i guess i’ll see you at 9:30 then, playboy.” you say before walking away to tend to other people at the bar. nick sends him a small smirk and drinks his tequila sunrise. “see? that wasn’t so hard.” “nick, seriously, shut the fuck up.”

soon enough, 9:30 rolls around and you’ve been cleaning glasses and wiping down the bar for the past half hour. you quickly go into the back to clock out and grab your bag before going back to the front to meet chris. “you ready to go, playboy?” he nods, “lead the way, y/n.” you exit the bar and walk towards your truck in the parking lot, chris trailing behind you. “so where are we going?” he asks curiously. “you’ll see” you respond as you climb into the drivers seat. “you’re really just not gonna tell me?” “i said you’ll see. it’ll be worth it.” you begin to drive out from the parking lot onto the street. 

as you’re driving, you speak up, “so where are you from? it’s obvious you’re not from around here.” chris turns to face you with a raised eyebrow, “you could tell, huh?” you nod, “yeah. i’m good at that.” he gives you a small smirk “well, me and my brothers live in la, but we’re originally from boston. what about you?” “i grew up around here actually. on a ranch.” his eyebrows shoot up. “really? a ranch? so you have like animals?” you nod, “yep. every farm animal you can think of, we have it.” “i’ll have to see it sometime.” you shoot him a smirk, “how about now?” you ask as you pull into the driveway of your family’s ranch. “you’re gonna show me your animals?” you park the truck as you shut off the engine, “well, most of them are probably asleep right now, but i can show you my horses if you’re up for it.” chris nods, “yeah let’s go.” he opens the door and gets out and you follow suit, locking the truck as you walk towards the side of the house.

you lead him over to the stables and open the door, revealing two horses. “whoa. are they both yours?” he asks with wide eyes. “this is maverick and that's goose. maverick’s mine and goose is my sister’s.” you tell him, walking over to maverick and petting him. “when i was younger, me and maverick used to participate in rodeos together.” you smile fondly at the memories of you riding maverick in an arena. “so you’re like a real cowgirl then?” he asks, admiring the way you tend to your horses. “i guess i am.” you give him a soft smile, which he returns. “there’s more to you than meets the eye, cowgirl.” he says softly. “same to you, playboy.” you respond. “you keep calling me that. why?” you shrug, “i don’t know it just suits you.” he chuckles, “whatever you say cowgirl.” you playfully roll your eyes at the nickname. “you wanna pet him? he’s real sweet.” you offer as chris takes a step towards maverick. he slowly brings his hand up and begins to pet the horse. “he is sweet.” “i know. i’ve had him since i was 13.” he looks over at you, “so he’s basically your baby, huh?” you smile slightly, “yeah he is.” 

after a few minutes, the two of you decide to head back to your apartment. the drive back is peaceful with the two of you making casual conversation by talking about your families, your goals, and anything you could think of. after about thirty minutes of driving, you pull into the parking garage of your apartment complex. you put your truck in park and step out, heading towards the elevator then to your front door. 

the two of you enter your cozy apartment and you set your bag and keys down on the kitchen counter. “this is a nice place. very homey.” you shrug, “it’s not much, but it’s alright. it’s what i can afford.” you walk into the living room and chris follows you, sitting himself down on your couch. “you want a drink or something?” you ask as you turn on your tv. “sure. i’ll take whatever you got.” “you got it. i’ll be right back.” before you go, you open spotify on your tv and click on a random playlist and press shuffle, the song ‘tennessee whiskey’ by chris stapleton softly coming through the speakers. you walk into the kitchen and begin to make some drinks for you and chris when suddenly, you feel two arms wrap around your waist. the two of you begin to sway slowly to the music. you turn around and wrap your arms around his neck as his hands fall to your hips. “you have a good taste in music, cowgirl.” he says. “you don’t strike me as the type to like country music.” “i don’t but i might make an exception for this song. after all, you introduced me to it.” he smiles as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “am i already making that big of an impact on you, playboy?” you tease. “baby, you’ve had an impact on me since i laid eyes on you in that bar a few hours ago.” his words make you smile. “yeah?” chris smiles back at you as he leans in closer, “yeah” he confirms before closing the gap in between you. the kiss is soft and sweet and you can taste the faint remnants of beer on his lips. his tongue then darts out, running along your bottom lip. you open your mouth slightly, letting your tongues dance together. your hands move to his hair and you give a small tug, a soft groan escaping his lips as his hands run along your waist. after a couple seconds, he pulls away, his lips slightly red and swollen. “you mind if i stay the night?” “as long as you promise to not ditch me in the morning, playboy.” you say. “oh cowgirl, after tonight, i’m never letting you go.” he then crashes his lips to yours once again before picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. he begins to carry you into your bedroom, the drinks long forgotten. 

[charcharbinks333]

¡evan peters characters!

fall preferences!

tate langdon:

tate loves spending halloween with you, since it’s the only day he can leave the murder house

cozy sweaters, horror movies, the rare rainy night in, cuddles (he’s the little spoon obvi), the smashing pumpkins and nirvana playing on your cd player

he takes you to the unknown spots around town on halloween that have all the cool graffiti art, but they are unknown to most

overall a sweetheart

kit walker:

he watches girly rom coms and chick with you

you make pumpkin pie while he holds you by the waist, peppering chaste kisses along your neck and watching you at work.

“i’m not in your way, suga’… can’t you let a man watch his wife at work?”

visiting family for thanksgiving and charming his parents (he does the same)

laying with him in bed and listening to the storms

candle light when the power goes out, jazz playing on the radio, early morning kisses, walks on crisp october afternoons

pre-death!kyle spencer:

days spent in your dorm, watching horror movies that he adores

him watching you do your makeup before going to a halloween party in matching costumes that you chose.

him letting you paint his nails black to match yours, but denying it ever happened when he’s around his frat brothers (not in an ashamed way 😭)

him letting you wear his hoodies and sweatpants as the days grow colder

making desserts together at 3 am

james patrick march:

lots of planning for devils night—he has to be ready for the greatest serial killers of all time!

him seeing you in your flapper costume, absolutely shellshocked. he practically worships the ground you walk on, and seeing you in something so skimpy drove him insane

engaging in pastime murders with him (!IF THATS UR THING)

leisurely drinks, late nights waiting for him to come to bed, reading beside him, dancing to jazz by the bar

him letting you wear his blazer when you’re cold (wearing a dress)

austin sommers:

watching him at late hours, writing away in his notebook and drinking. you wrap your arms around him and he kisses your forehead, repeatedly telling you he needed to finish this before november.

halloween themed karaoke at the bar, in which he holds eye contact with you and eventually drags you on stage.

cuddling on the couch and watching hocus pocus over and over (it’s his favorite halloween movie.)

late nights drinking before going home and drunkenly eating the leftover pumpkin pie in the fridge while giggling uncontrollably.

peter maximoff:

watching him speed through piles of leaves, creating a tornado of red, brown, and orange hues, giggling to yourself as other students get frustrated with him

going trick or treating even though you both are way too old for it

watching his kleptomania at work as he takes all the candy from the “take one” bowls, haphazardly using his mutation out in a random neighborhood

watching community and—to your luck—landing on the halloween episode and giggling at the coincidence

listening to classic rock as you get ready to go out, but he pulls you back onto the bed for more cuddles (“baby please i need you… don’t go out yet…”)

play fighting on the bed

alex (adult world):

giggling as the halloween issues of different porno magazines ship to the store, judging the horrible costumes with him

him teaching you how to bake, you clinging to his side as he tries to work around you, being successful in his efforts.

studying for midterms during work, hoping alex doesn’t catch you off duty (it’s happened plenty of times)

watching the first snow together while leaving work, trying to catch the first snowflakes on your tongue 

going to mini-parties at Rubia’s apartment and planning group halloween costumes that include a couple for you and alex

[elvisabutler]

eros

summary: he was a frat boy. you were not a sorority girl. could i make it any more obvious. or how you fall for a frat boy and you two finally actually get it on but not necessarily in the way both of you intended. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x female reader word count: 1716 warnings: talking shit on fraternities and sororities. mild insecurity. talk of disastrous dates. coming untouched. coming in pants. handjobs. implied p in v sex. a touch ( okay maybe a bit more than a touch ) of sub austin. impatient horny college people. author’s note: so as @blurredcolour can attest to i meant for this to be a touching little piece about how these two had sex for the first time and he sort of defied her expectations and all this nice romantic stuff. it's why i called this piece eros. yeah, then i started writing it and well, it's still romantic and sweet? but i also had the three people who saw bits before i posted forget how to breathe so oopsies. as always comments and reblogs and hearing your thoughts are my lifeblood so feel free to scream at me in dms or asks or in the comments. i'll eat it up and write like a woman possessed i swear. beyond that, if you want to be on my taglist fill out the form here. i might just make a tumblr post for it too but we'll see.

If anyone were to have told you half a year ago that you'd be head over heels with a boy who's in a fraternity, you'd have laughed. You'd have told them that they really should brush up on their comedy skills because there was no way you would do that. Not after every aggravation you had with them. Not after every class where one of them popped up with some stupid remark that had you wanting to deck them in the face and not after knowing that just because they had gotten into some exclusive club they got a leg up on other people. Maybe it's true that's how the world worked but it didn't mean you'd have to like it. Then you properly met Austin. You got to know this stupid premed who minors in theater of all things and cares so deeply for his friends and for other people that it threatens to choke you sometimes when you think about it.

He's not perfect and he makes stupid jokes that you swat him on the arm for and spreads himself just a little too thin but he's yours and heaven help you, you're his. It's too early to be thinking about forever, you think, but the idea doesn't terrify you as much as it should. The idea of being with him as he goes through med school and as you complete your own schooling and go into the workforce is almost comforting. The idea of seeing him with a child that's a small mix of the two of you doesn't immediately make you run for the hills. The idea of him in your life, in your bed and in your apartment feels like an inevitability that comforts you more than anything else.

Of course, all of this—you like to think— might depend on whether or not Austin feels the same way. It depends on whether or not maybe tonight you can convince him that you'd honestly like to have sex with him. The circumstances are right, your roommate won't be home tonight at all and the house is fine and in capable hands. The two of you even have a date where for once Austin plans on cleaning up for something other than a frat function or a school related function. There's no reason he shouldn't want to unless he doesn't actually want you that way.

In hindsight, you don't know why you were ever concerned as you find yourself up against your bedroom door, head tapping it lightly as Austin's hands move up your sides while his lips attack your neck.

"Austin-" you whine, as one of his hands moves to your chest, trying to free your breasts from your dress and instead just managing to squeeze them. "You— The dress, we gotta undo the dress."

Your words are clearer and said with more clarity that you thought was possible given Austin's wandering hands. Someone— one of the two of you has to keep a clear head— if only so that you can both enjoy this. So that Austin doesn't try and rip your dress or your panties or god forbid your bra to get at your body in his impatience.

Austin forces his face away from your neck and groans a little at how there's already a bruise forming from his lips, how your skin is just that little bit darker where his lips had sucked and where his teeth had nipped. You were his girlfriend and you loved him. You loved every single part of him— the part that had to work so hard in classes and at work, the part that missed his mom in the middle of the night and would call you tearing up, the part that cared about his people so deeply that he'd murder for him— they were all what made him the person you wanted to be with and that was a heady thing to know. It set a fire ablaze inside of him that threatened to overtake him and bring you with him. You were his girlfriend and here you were in a gorgeous dress still with him after what was hands down the most disastrous date he's ever had with another person. The reservation was at the wrong time, the restaurant ran out of half the food to make their dishes and there was not one but two couples breaking up next to you. Not to mention the way the uber had broken down mid trip and how the wine had spilled on his jacket ruining it until he could manage to get it dry cleaned.

Yet you were still here and in his arms and willing and wanting to have sex with him. No— you were willing to make love to him the same way he wanted to make love to you. He wants to take his time laying you out across your bed, watching your face as he enters you and watching how your face contorts when he plays with your clit while he's inside of you. He wants to see your face in ecstasy and hear your mewls of pleasure in his ear. Your nails would mark him up, drag lines down his back from how overwhelmed you are and he could see just what he does to you.

"I love you," he whispers with a reverence you weren't prepared to hear in contrast to his hands trailing fire across your skin. "I know we say it all the time but— I— I'm so thankful you gave me that shot, babe. So thankful you let me clean your car. You could have told me no—" His words are cut off with a low groan as he feels your hand undoing his belt and sticking your hand in his pants with a speed that startles him. "Babe I'm—"

"You're being—ah— very romantic, Aus. I love it— but I'm ruining my underwear and I want to see you come right now." The words that come out of your mouth have both you and Austin pausing for just a moment because while you can be startlingly blunt that particular combination of words is a bit much for even you.

"O-Okay," he manages to stutter out in response, the blues of his eyes completely overwhelmed by his pupil. "In my pants?"

Your chest heaves at the idea, at the implication that Austin would let you bring him off like this and come in his pants. It's a rush of power you aren't expecting and that you figure no one would expect. You bite at your lip, watching as Austin's eyes are glued to them before you finally answer. "Would you?"

It's Austin's turn to have his head tilt back, exposing the long length of his neck to you as you move to nip and kiss at it. You pray that he bruises there, that there's a hickey or two for everyone to see he's yours. Against your lips you feel the rumble of his voice, rough as a gravel road. "For you? Yeah. Do anything for you."

A smirk crosses your lips as you finally pull away from his neck, noting the red bit of his skin and giggling softly. Your hand twists and your thumb brushes against the tip of his cock as you just look at Austin, marveling at how he keeps ahold of you, keeps you pinned to the door even as his breathing shifts and as he bites his lips to keep quiet. "Austin," you croon, "wanna hear it. Want everyone to know I got the hottest frat boy in my apartment. That he's gonna come undone because I'm jerking him off. Want everyone to know you're all mine. That you're so—"

Austin's lips slam against yours, causing a messy kiss of clattering teeth and bitten lips in order to get you to stop talking. Even with the distraction your hand picks up the pace, moving in a way you're pretty sure Austin enjoys as he whines and whimpers into your kiss. You could die happy hearing these noises. You want to hear these noises every second you can if he'll let you. He pulls away, trying to put some distance between you two because he meant to come during sex on your bed and not like this. Not like a horny little teenager. You deserved more.

"Babe— gotta— I'm gonna—" He can't finish off the thoughts though and your hand keeps moving as you clench your thighs together the best you can.

"Austin, baby please. Do it for me?" You flutter your eyelashes and pout in what is one of— if not the dirtiest trick you could use before you feel his body curl just so and tense up just enough that you know he's gone before you feel the warmth of his come covering your hand. If you're honest with yourself you can feel your pussy clenching around nothing and you wonder if perhaps you're in the same boat without being touched in the same way.

It takes you and Austin a moment to catch your breath, staring at each other in a bit of shock before he finally says something, moving to make it so he isn't pinning you against the door. "That— I was supposed to have sex with you not—"

You cut him off with a nuzzle to his nose, watching as his face scrunches up just a little. "You still can. I still want you to. Might have gotten off last night to the idea. Was hoping you would tonight actually."

Austin swallows and watches how you shift in place, still wanting more friction. "Yeah? Want me to lay you out on the bed and make you come till you cry?" He licks his lips at the picture he's inadvertently painting and you can't help but mirror him.

"I'd like to see you try, Butler," you answer with a smile, teasing him with the old name you used to call him in anger. "It'll take a while."

"I've got all night," he shrugs before his eyes move and catch on the yoga mat by the door. "And you're pretty flexible. Lead the way to your fate, babe."

You get a call about a noise complaint from your landlord the next day.

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @slowsweetlove, @kxnnxy, @meetmeatyourworst, @purejasmine

[usarmytrooper]

Nice slab of meat!

[doll3tt33]

╰➜ ⊹ ࣪ ˖┆soon to be inactive┆⊹ ࣪ ˖

she/her 𝜗𝜚 libra ☉ libra ☾ sag ↑ 𝜗𝜚 will come back to occasionally post and drop off a bot of the evans if I make any 𝜗𝜚 still a colin girlie

my most recent fic/hc! - my haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ❥ colin zabel

everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ❥ colin zabel

‘cause when you know you know ❥ colin zabel

my most recent c.ai bot! - playing dangerous ❥ colin zabel

a day in the life of a cleaner for homelander ❥ homelander

check your window, he’s at your window ❥ tate langdon

Goodbye for now! ♡

Requests are closed cuz I’m moving on with other interests, so this account wont be as active anymore. might come back one day.

a lil’ info:

• If you’re under 18, then it means this place isn’t for you and YA BETTER GET OFF MA PROPERTY!! On a fr note, please do not interact if you’re a minor.

• characters I’m sorta confident I won’t mess up with (aka characters you can request for): Kai Anderson, Tate Langdon, Austin Sommers, Kyle Spencer, Kit Walker, Colin Zabel, Peter Maximoff, Stan Bowes, Luke Cooper, Charles Decker, + characters from The Boys

• characters I’m not so confident with right now: James Patrick March, Jimmy Darling, Warren Lipka, Mr. Gallant.

I’ll need a rewatch to get a better grasp of their character so they won’t be ooc, but I’ll make them available to request in the future!

• general requests are cool! but I really appreciate requests with a specific scenario/AU. This is a kink-friendly blog, so feel free to go wild!

Bots & fics masterlist below the cut!

all of the bots below have detailed defintions and descriptions, along with example messages! So dw, none of them are empty carcasses of an ai bot

angst/dark themes - ✮ sfw - ❀ (might lead to) nsfw - ✧

c.ai filter breaking tut: pt.1, pt.2

Kai Anderson:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

Your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in. ✮

𝜗𝜚 Headcanons:

Kai Anderson SFW headcanons ❀

𝜗𝜚 AI bots:

Being in a toxic relationship with Kai (based off the song ‘Ultraviolence’) ✮

Kai breaking into your home for revenge ✮/✧

Visiting spiritual counselor!Kai to seek guidance ✮/❀

Kai coming up to you at a bookstore ❀

Kai “accidentally” spilling his coffee all over you ❀

⇢ I recommend the bookstore one over the coffee one if u r looking for a standard Kai bot to use, cuz the former’s settings are improved ((but like the coffee one’s still aight ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Colin Zabel:

𝜗𝜚 Fanfics:

Everybody knows I’m a good girl, officer ✧

My haunted lungs, ghost in the sheets ✧

‘Cause when you know you know ❀

𝜗𝜚 AI bots:

Getting arrested by Colin… again ❀

Having your first session with therapist!Colin ❀

Professor!Colin teaching you on your first day of college ❀

Peter Maximoff:

Peter challenging you to Pac-Man at the arcade ❀

Chilling with Peter in his room ❀

You’re both lonely on prom night so Peter invites you to join him ❀

Stan Bowes:

You’re the daughter of Stan’s boss and he has to pick you up from a party ❀

Having your first ever dinner with sugardaddy!Stan ❀

Interrupting Stan in the middle of work ❀

Austin Sommers:

paparazzi!Austin who won’t stop pestering you ❀

Kyle Spencer:

Frankenkyle showing up at your doorstep in the middle of the night ❀

You’re a new witch at the academy and you’re responsible for Frankenkyle ❀

Studying alone with frat!Kyle at the campus library ❀

frat!Kyle comes up to you at a college party on New Year’s Eve ❀

Tate Langdon:

perv!Tate snapping photos of you in the school’s bathroom ✧

Helping Tate after he gets bullied at school ❀

Tate walking in on you playing a ritual game ❀

Dealing with an emotionally unstable Tate after your break up (based off the song ‘Meant to Be Yours’ from Heathers: The Musical) ✮

Kit Walker:

singledad!Kit hiring you as a babysitter ❀

Kit taking all the blame for you at the asylum ✮

bartender!Kit serving you a free drink ❀

Getting steamy with husband!Kit in the kitchen ✧

Luke Cooper:

Luke getting everyone’s coffee orders wrong but yours ❀

[sluts4matt]

PARTY

pairing: soft!dom matt x mixed!reader

summary: after a long week, you intended on staying home and relaxing. your roommate; however, had different plans dragging you to a close friend's party.

warnings: SMUT, use of weed, nic, and alcohol, p in v, teasing, light choking, pet names (princess), orgasm denial, praising, slight embarrassment kink? (i think)

word count: 3074

authors note: i feel like this is kind of all over the place, i apologize, i haven't written in like a good month or two. not proofread or edited.

it had been a long day, work not going so greatly. that's why as soon as you walked through your apartment door you had greeted your roommate then went to your bedroom, pulling out a pre roll from your nightstand drawer.

you sighed, laying on your back, looking up at the ceiling, lighting the end, then inhaling deeply. the smoke left your lips, your eyes blinking a few times. you jumped at the quiet knock on your bedroom door, coughing slightly.

"it's open," you say. the door opened revealing your roommate naya, her red curls up in a messy pony tail. "bad day at work?" she asked, joining you on your bed.

you passed the joint over to her, which she accepted with a smile bringing it to her lips. "some chick ordered a triple shot expresso with caramel and white chocolate syrup, had me put caramel drizzle on top right?" you start and she nods.

"i repeat her order, she looks at the screen she's goes, yep looks good. then i go to give her the drink and she goes-" you take a breath before talking in a slightly snobby tone, "-'this isn't what i ordered, i need this remade right now' i looked at like, are you fucking serious right now?"

naya started laughing, passing the joint back. "so did you remake her drink?" she asks, "yeah, after arguing with her for ten minutes." you both laugh. "god, i hate being a barista sometimes," you state.

"wanna go to austin's party to take your mind off of work?" she asks. "i dunno, nay. i'm not in the mood to deal with drunks and people trying to make a move on me." you say. "then just stay next to aria the whole time, guys don't really approach her. come on please," she gave you puppy dog eyes, her bottom lip jutting out as she clasped her hands together.

"when was the last time you went to a party?" she asks, you think for a moment. "um, the one josh threw at the frat house that you brought me to." naya giggles, grabbing your hand, "sweety... i'm gonna hold your hand when i say this, that was almost six months ago." you snatch your hand away, giving her an annoyed look.

"that's a lie, we were at a party for channing's birthday two months ago." you defend, "birthday party's don't count, neither do family reunions or get togethers," she points out.

"oh god fine," you sigh. naya squeals, wrapping her arms around your waist. "oh my god thank you!" she says excitedly, "okay go, we gotta get ready," you say, shooing her away. she sticks her tongue out, getting up and walking out.

you stand up, going to your closet to pick your outfit out. once you find your clothes you put on your shower cap and hop in the shower, washing your body. after you're finished you wrap a towel around your body, going back to your room to get dressed.

you slip on the outfit, pairing it with a pair of black thigh high socks and some black mary janes. you take a comb through your hair, getting out most of the knots. naya knocks on your door as you go to apply your eyeliner, "come in."

she opens the door, she had put on a pink crop top and high waisted jeans, she had her hair down and her curls were bouncy. she was holding her black boots, "i'm stealing some of your eyeliner, can't find mine and lord knows you have enough."

"okay," you mumble, consentraiting. she walks up, opening the drawer and grabbing one of the many felt tip liners you had. she sat on the floor, looking into her phone camera, as she applied the eyeliner.

you grab a pink lip liner from your drawer, lining your lips before putting some lipgloss over them. you smack your lips together, to coat the two evenly, smiling at yourself when you were done. you pulled the look together with a pair of hooped earrings, grabbing your silver side bag.

"let's go!" naya says excitedly, grabbing your hand and leading you out the door.

the two of you hopped into the uber that she had scheduled while the two of you were getting ready. the car ride was filled with naya talking about the cute boy who works at the grocery store near the apartment.

"like, i didn't realize how much i liked green eyes until i saw his, they're like emeralds, really they are," she swoons, you chuckle, shaking your head.

"we're here," the uber driver states. you open the car door, walking in. "the party's here," she states loudly, gaining the attention of austin talking to a group of three boys who all looked relatively the same.

he looked over, smiling widely, waving his hand in a motion to come over. "omg, i'm glad you guys' could make it," he says, sporting a glittery sheer top and sparkly silver eyeshadow.

"i'm not sure how long we're staying, we're just stopping by for a little bit," you say, austin gives you a fake pout. "no fun, excuse us," he states to the three boys dragging you and naya to the open bar.

"lets take shots," he says, naya eagerly nodding her head as he grabs a tray with glittery shots on it. "i'm good," you say. "no, sweetheart, we're doing shots," he says, pushing one towards you.

"fine," you mutter, picking the shot glass up. "on the count of three," he says, "one, two, three," the three of you all bring the shot glass to your lips, downing the shot. the liquid burned as it went down your throat. you shook your head slightly, "rookie," naya giggled.

"i'm gonna go find aria, don't die," you say, "have fun!" austin and naya shout after you. you weave through the crowd, looking for a head of pink and black striped hair. you bumped into someone, stumbling slightly, "sorry," he mumbles as you look up.

it was one of the guys austin had been talking to when you and naya first got there. you smiled slightly, "all good, it was my fault anyways, wasn't paying attention," you state.

"matt," he says, sticking his hand out, you smile slightly, taking his hand, "y/n," you state, shaking his hand. "are you looking for someone?" he asks. "uh yeah, aria?" you ask, he looks at you slightly confused, tilting his head slightly. "shorter then me, black and pink hair," you describe, "tattoos, like, everywhere except her neck and face?" you ask.

"oh! she's over there talking to chris," he points to the back of the room. "thanks," you say, going the direction he pointed to. you pushed past people, finally finding the short girl.

"hi!" you shout, the two turn to look at you, "there you are," aria states. "who's this?" chris asks, "my wife," she states loudly, he chuckles but looks slightly confused. "you wouldn't get it," she explains.

"you okay?" she asks, "yeah, fine, just need to take the edge off, i guess," you sigh. she pulls out a pre rolled blunt, lighter and a vape. "i love you," you sigh, taking the strawberry kiwi vape from her acrylics.

she hands the lighter to chris, "light," he does as she asks, bringing the lighter to the blunt that was between her lip. she inhaled, holding it in for a moment, then blowing it out. she passed it to you, earning a smile from you.

"work fucking sucks, why'd you quit," you playfully whine, a pout on your lips as your bring the blunt your lips. "because i would have ended up hitting that bitch of a manager," she states. you exhale the smoke, handing it back to her.

"she's not that bad anymore," you state, "i call bullshit," aria says. the three of you stood, smoking as people pushed past. "i'm gonna go find matt," chris says, "okay," the two of you respond in unison, causing you and aria to break out into a fit of laughter.

"god, i can't believe it's been six months since i worked at that hell hole," she states. "yeah fuck you," you giggle. you remember the day you had met aria, you were both just starting at the local cafe, quickly bonding over the fact that you two were the newbies.

after working together for a couple of months, she had introduced you to austin. austin then introduced you to naya, who quickly became your roommate. the four of you had grown quite close, always spending time with each other.

"lets go dance," she squeals, dragging you towards the center. the two of you began swaying and jumping, the music blasting through the speakers. chris had joined soon after, dragging matt with him. you giggled at the brunette haired by slightly watching his attempt to move his hips to the beat.

"white boys got no rythum," aria states, her hips swaying. "no shit," chris says, moving his shoulders. "oh god," you and aria giggle, shaking your heads at their terrible attempts at dancing.

"like this," aria instructs, her hips moving as her hands run over her body. you do the same, letting the music take over your body. the two of you danced like no one was watching, not that you cared.

the music was blasting and the air was heavy, the room smelled like alcohol and sweat, but at this point you didn't care, you were having too much fun.

you jumped slightly when you felt a pair of hands being softly placed on your hips, "is this okay?" matt whispers, his breath fanning your shoulder blade. you nod, leaning back, placing your hand behind his head, playing with the strands. you felt his thumb slowly moving in circles, causing your heart to speed up.

when you look towards aria, you see her arms wrapped around chris as she giggles at something he had said. the two were in their own little world, the rest of the party seeming to disappear.

your hand raked through matt's hair softly as you moved your hips, feeling his grip tighten. you bite your lip, "so," you state, "how'd you get roped into this party?"

"nick and chris, glad i let them rope me in though," he mumbled. "why's that?" you ask, looking down slightly. "because then i would have missed this," his breath tickling your neck.

you felt your cheeks heat up slightly, your head slightly tilting involuntarily. his lips gently brushed against the crook of your neck, leaving feather like kisses. your breath hitches slightly, closing your eyes.

"come on," he says, pulling back taking your hand as he leads you out the front door to his car. "get in," he says, opening the passenger door. "what are we doing?" you ask, slightly out of breath.

"star gazing," he says, putting the car in reverse and backing out of austin's driveway before putting it in drive and driving it to one of the parks that wasn't visited very often. "actually?" you ask, slightly hoping he wasn't serious about star gazing.

"do you not want to?" he teases, parking the car. he looks over at you tilting his head, one of his hands still on the wheel. you raise an eyebrow at the boy you've known barely two hours, your arms crossing. "what?" he asks, his tone playful.

"you know what," you state. "no, i don't, maybe you should tell me," he says, a small smirk spreading across his face. your eyes narrowed, your thighs squeezing together.

"oh?," he states, his head cocking to the side. his hand finds its way to the side of his seat, sliding it back. "well what do you want to do then princess?" he asks, his arm going behind your seat, turning his body so that his body was facing yours.

your mouth gaped open slightly, not knowing how to respond to the sudden change in attitude. "come on, words," he chuckles, his lips curling into a slight smirk.

"i-," you pause, not knowing what you were about to say. "yes?" he questions, his arm resting on the back of the chair. "i um," you mutter, looking at him with big eyes. "kiss me," you whisper, biting your lip.

"good girl," he praises, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. he pulls you in, his lips brushing against yours, causing butterflies to fill your stomach. his lips molded to yours perfectly, moving in sync.

his lips were soft and warm, your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue entrance. his hand moves down to your throat, his fingers wrapping around. his other hand moves to your hip, guiding you over the center console to his lap.

your hands run through his hair, tugging lightly, causing him to moan slightly. you feel him buck his hips slightly, pushing up into the thin fabric of your underwear. you gasp slightly, giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in.

you feel him smirk slightly, his hand leaving your throat, traveling to each of your shoulders. his fingers slipping the thin straps down your shoulders. his lips leave yours, kissing down your neck, causing you to tilt your head slightly.

"so pretty," he mutters, his hands pushing the fabric down your chest. his head dips, his tongue swirling around your nipple. your breath hitches, your hand moving to his hair, your fingers threading through.

he groans slightly, his hips pushing up into you. "matt," you breathe, his teeth grazing your nipple. you feel him smile against your skin, his fingers tweaking your other nipple.

"fuck," you whine, tugging at his hair. "you want more?" he asks, his hand sliding up your leg to the bottom of your skirt. "yes, please," you whine. his hand slides up your skirt, his fingers pushing aside the fabric of your underwear.

his finger traces your clit, teasing you. your thighs shake slightly, causing him to chuckle, "desperate." you roll your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his hair. his hand wraps around your throat, the metal of his rings cold against your neck as he squeezes lightly.

"be nice," he whispers, his finger slowly circling your clit. "or what?" you challenge, his eyes narrow. his fingers speed up, a breathy moan leaving your lips. his fingers work you, making your eyes roll back.

"matt," you whine, pushing yourself down onto his fingers, "fuck," you whisper. his fingers continue working your clit, your breathing becoming uneven.

"you close?" he asks, his voice laced with lust. you nod quickly, your hips rolling. his fingers slow, stopping right before you reach your high. "no, no, please," you whine, your hips bucking.

"awe, does someone not like the consequences of their own actions?" the boy mocks, his hand still holding your throat. "no, please," you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes.

"you think just because you give me the puppy dog eyes i'll give you what you want?" he chuckles, jokingly bouncing your body. you nod your head, a pout forming on your lips. "please," you whimper, your hips trying to push into his hand.

"begging, pretty," he smirks, his fingers starting to circle again. you whine, the coil in your stomach tightening. his fingers speed up, pushing you barely over the edge before stopping again.

"matt, no," you whine, his hand moving from your neck to your shoulder. he pushes you backwards, your back hitting the steering wheel. his hands go to the button on his pants, undoing it before unzipping them. he lifts his hips from the seat slightly, pushing them down to his knees.

his boxers were a light grey, a slight wet spot showing on the front. he palms himself through the fabric, moaning quietly. his other hand goes to your waist, moving your body so that you were directly over him. he pushes his boxers down, moving the fabric of your soaked panties to the side.

he pushes the tip in, moaning. you whine, feeling his grip on your waist tighten as he pulls your body down. "fuck," he curses, his head falling back. your hand grips the back of his seat, his length filling you.

you start to move your hips slowly, moaning softly. his fingers dig into your hips, helping guide your movements. his hips thrust upwards, meeting your slow pace.

"god, you're so pretty," he mumbles, his head tilting up to look at you. his thumb moves down to your clit, rubbing fast circles. your head tilts back, "fuck, i'm gonna cum." "not yet pretty girl," he says denying you, once again.

your hand moves to the top of the seat, the other gripping his shoulder as your hips begin to stutter. "matt, i can't," you whine. "hold on for me, your doing such a good job," he whispers, his hand leaving your hip, tangling itself in your hair.

"fuck, you feel so good," he moans, his hips picking up their pace, slamming up into you. the windows had fogged up, the air in the car humid. he brings your lips down to his, kissing you harshly. his tongue slips into your mouth, his teeth lightly pulling on your bottom lip.

"cum," he states, his thumb moving faster on your clit. the coil in your stomach snapped, causing you to let out a moan, pulling away from his lips as you buried your face in his neck. his hips slammed up into you a few more times before he pulled out, jacking himself off, his cum spilling on your thigh.

"fuck," he whispers, his chest rising and falling. "fuck," he repeats, reaching over to grab a napkin from the glove box. "shit," he mumbles, wiping the cum off of your thigh, throwing it in the backseat.

he lifts you up slightly, pulling his boxers and pants up. he grabs another napkin, cleaning in between your thighs, throwing it in the back.

"did you have fun?" he asks, looking up at you. you giggle, nodding, "yeah?" he asks. "do you want food?" he asks, your head tilting slightly. "what?" he asks, chuckling, "like, did you want to get food, or would you like me to take you home," he clarifies.

"i could go for a burger," you state. "burger king or five guys?" he asks, "five guys," you respond. he smiles, fixing the strap of your top before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

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[romantiqueofthemind]

WHY IS IT SO HARD FOR ME TO WRITE FLUFF FOR AUSTIN AND SMUT FOR HARRY?????!!!???

Like my brain automatically connects the two together???? Like awww Austin is such a sweetheart yet my brain is like: Degrade me? Do filthy things? Yes plz???

Like NO. I STRUGGLE SO MUCH WITH THAT YOU DONT EVEN KNOW

(Send me some Smutty Harry requests and some Fluffy Austin requests. Please. I beg you)