NEO

[neo-novaa]

× NEO;; he/they. nsfw blog. 2hollis enjoyer ×

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[2bun22]

you keep moving like that i’m gonna put a fucking baby in you

[neo-novaa]

i gotta fuck 2hollis

[neo-novaa]

hollis just dropped a song on soundcloud with the lyrics "make you cum one hand odell" What.

[neo-novaa]

AND "chainmail on my dick" knight hollis we still talk about you.....

[neo-novaa]

hollis just dropped a song on soundcloud with the lyrics "make you cum one hand odell" What.

[neo-novaa]

frat!hollis ….#thinking

[neo-novaa]

ok guys u better give my fic the same love you gave this freaking post

[neo-novaa]

❧ SOBER UP ;;

warnings/tags: fem!reader, frat!hollis, smoking, drinking, party setting, fluff, light angst, no beta

synopsis: after a long week, you just needed to go out and get wasted — so what if hollis' frat was the first place you thought of?

it’s become something of a habit.

every friday night you’re constantly opening, closing, and re-opening snapchat, checking the stories of the house, his brothers, him — you tell yourself it’s because you’ve had a rough week, and you need an excuse to go out and get drunk with your friends, that’s all. 

finally, you see it: the purple ring around his brothers snapchat story. you don’t wait a second before opening it, feeling your heart flutter at the sight.

“Beach Bros & Bikini Babes! Friday 10pm-2am. You know where.”

oh, did you.

shamelessly, you screenshotted the post and sent it to your friends, following it up with a short excuse about your stressful week, and how you needed to let loose. whether or not they believed it was a mystery. all that mattered was within the hour, your reliable posse was following you into the house, greeted by the familiar scent of shitty beer and shittier weed.

with a flash of your university ID and $10 to the poor pledge managing the door, you set off like a lion on the prowl, aimlessly meandering around the crowds and various tables lined with red solo cups. anyone could tell you were looking for something — someone.

though the concept of a party filled with scantily-clad peers seemed like a good idea, wandering through bodies and feeling your skin rub against theirs was enough to send shivers down your spine. though it was a warm welcome compared to the hostile cold you endured on your walk-of-shame here, you weren’t sure how many “accidental” brushes against your ass or hairy legs against your thighs you could handle. you told yourself if you didn’t find hollis soon, you’d make an excuse to leave, you’d come back in a few weeks when his house would inevitably host again.

but once you saw him, you stopped dead in your tracks. suddenly, it was all worth it.

toned, lean, donning a baseball cap with his letters stitched into it. threads of his pale gold hair peak from the edges, slick with sweat. a solo cup in one hand, ping-pong ball in the other. he’s wearing plain black swim shorts, slung low on his hips so you can see his hip bones and v-line. you’re almost positive you see a happy trail, but you tell yourself that the lighting’s playing tricks on you — you tell yourself that so you don’t get dizzy and hit the floor.  

he’s the third person on that side of the table, the cups arranged in what you assumed used to be a triangle, but is now more akin to a wedge of swiss cheese. hollis tossed the ping pong ball, making sure to check his elbows before letting go, and the duo he served as a celebrity shot for erupted in cheers as he sinks a cup. 

slowly, surely, with precision and calculation, you wandered towards him. you weren’t drunk enough to full-send the interaction — the pregame was cut short. 

you pretend you don’t see him. you pretend like you’re actually interested in the ongoing game of beer pong. and thankfully, hollis lacked enough sobriety to start a conversation with you.

“you’re back,” he yells into your ear, yet you can still barely hear it above the music, the shouting, the bass rattling your bones. “i keep thinking i’m gonna see you for the last time, then you show up again.”

you smile at the thought of hollis thinking of you. “what can i say, you’ve wooed me with your free beer and cheap jungle juice.”

“nothing else?” he’s quick to quip back. you see him rummage in his pocket, your heart skips a beat —

a fresh pack of camels. you can see the plastic shimmer in the lighting.

you flash your gaze up at him, something you immediately regret with how quickly he’s able to pull the air from your lungs. despite being more naked than you’ve ever seen him, hollis is dripping in sweat. it shimmers off his body, beading around his neck and temple. you don’t miss the way his eyes graze over your body, stuttering at your exposed chest, double-taking at your stomach and thighs. 

“take a picture sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

hollis doesn’t say anything, just throws his head to the side with a smile, only to quickly rub it off his face. “you wanna smoke or what?” he asks, ignoring your accusation all-together.

you mull over the question, staring into the tea-leaves (foam) of your porcelain (red-solo) cup. 

“yeah, sure.”

he leads you through crowds, up stairs, past a closed door, and the cool air hits you hard enough to sober you up.

you hiss at it, wondering just how badly you want that cigarette. but the plastic is torn, hollis is pulling one out, and the flick, flick, flick of his lighter is enough for you to feel confident in your decision. hollis brings the lit cigarette to his lips, offering you the rest of the pack. you take one, watching as he slips it back into his pocket, waiting as he keeps puffing from his cigarette.

you stuff the filter between your lips. “you gonna offer me a light?” you ask, glaring at the lighter in his hand. you wait a moment too long to look up at hollis for an answer, expecting to see him to be taking the world longest drag. instead, the cigarette is hanging loosely from his lips. his eyes slowly glaze over your body, trailing your curves, confidently imaging what lies under the thin excuse for swimwear you have on. 

hollis purses his lips, gripping the cigarette tighter, takes a deep pull, and leans down to you, leading with the shimmering orange tip. he presses it against yours, sucking more smoke from the cig, and his eyes are trained on you like a fucking hawk. unwavering, unblinking — primal. his nose almost brushes against yours, you can hear his lungs filling with smoke. 

from this close, you can smell his cologne peaking through the layers of sweat and smoke. warm sugar, hints of something sweet and spicy, and a deep, woody scent that cradles it together. god, you feel dizzy.

you pull from your cigarette, lighting it with hollis’ lit end. the smoke fills your lungs, and he finally backs away.

despite how long he’s been pulling and the nearly opaque plume of smoke he exhales, hollis doesn’t so much as clear his throat. you’re struggling to keep a cough dow, you waited too long to breathe — that must be why your heart was beating so fast.

his gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, drunken lids half closed as his deep brown eyes stay trained on you. still sweaty, still slick — fuck, is he wearing eyeliner?

you break away from the staring contest, mumbling a sheepish “thanks…” before bringing the filter back to your lips. the drinks are starting to wear off, the cigarette isn’t enough to fuel your confidence. 

hollis shifts closer to you, his hip just barely brushing against yours. “no problem,” he mutters, mirroring your actions and taking another quick hit. 

it was…nice…kind of, just the two of you on the balcony. you wanted it to mean more, but just like his frat, hollis himself had a reputation. you didn’t have much first-hand experience with that wit, charm, and humor of his that was able to lead girls into his bed and kick them out before dawn broke. part of you knew that’s what was going on, he was just playing the long game — probably because your friend was close to the brothers, and she must’ve made him promise he’d go easy on you.

“what are you thinking about?”

his smooth voice cuts through your thoughts, managing to cull your fear and silence your worries for a brief, enjoyable moment. the buzz is finally starting to hit you, and your head feels ten pounds lighter. maybe that’s what gives you the confidence to speak your mind.

“you — this,” you gesture to the space around you, the sliver of the universe you’ve carved, letting yourself believe it could lead to something more. “just feels weird, like i’m being scouted or something.”

hollis shifts, his body facing you, eyes slowly scanning your scantily clad body. “what d’you mean?”

you laugh out a cloud of smoke, reflecting the sly, longing gaze he dragged along your body onto his own. “this,” you repeat, more clearly pointing a finger between the two of you. the buzz is getting stronger, it’s not just your head that’s floating now, but your whole body. “i’m familiar with who you are hollis, don’t think i’m falling for this ‘soft and sensual’ gimmick, i’m not gonna fall into your bed like those other chicks.”

it takes a moment for your words to hit him, but when they do, hollis’ jaw slacks, half-lidded eyes jump open, and he moves his hands up to defend himself. “woah, who said i’m tryna —”

as if on cue, as if it were scripted, one of his brothers barges through the door to the balcony, eyes moving frantically before landing on you. “yo, did you come with a friend in a pink and white polka-dot bikini?”

your eyes quickly flash to hollis, your heart flutters when they meet his. looking back to his brother, you nod. 

part of him relaxes, a different part tenses. “alright she’s like, mad sick right now, i mean she’s puking buckets into a garbage can. she’s got a couple people helping her but i really think she should be going home.”

you almost groan. this always happened,  always — “she can never hold her damn liquor…” you rub the barely lit end of your cigarette into the wooden railing, stuffing whatever was left between two of hollis’ free fingers. “no need to save it for me, i’m tryna quit.”

once you leave, hollis stubs out his cherry and flicks the filter off the balcony, shoving his palms deep into his eyes. he groans, loud, cursing and muttering under his breath. without a second thought, he adopts your half-smoked cigarette as his own, lighting it, breathing in. and on the filter between his lips and the smoke in his lungs, he relishes in the fading taste of something sweet.

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @qiyokulove @viennawaiits @thottieonline @alexislameee @hollispassengerprincess @bloomingblunt

[neo-novaa]

something just happened

[neo-novaa]

❧ SOBER UP ;;

warnings/tags: fem!reader, frat!hollis, smoking, drinking, party setting, fluff, light angst, no beta

synopsis: after a long week, you just needed to go out and get wasted — so what if hollis' frat was the first place you thought of?

it’s become something of a habit.

every friday night you’re constantly opening, closing, and re-opening snapchat, checking the stories of the house, his brothers, him — you tell yourself it’s because you’ve had a rough week, and you need an excuse to go out and get drunk with your friends, that’s all. 

finally, you see it: the purple ring around his brothers snapchat story. you don’t wait a second before opening it, feeling your heart flutter at the sight.

“Beach Bros & Bikini Babes! Friday 10pm-2am. You know where.”

oh, did you.

shamelessly, you screenshotted the post and sent it to your friends, following it up with a short excuse about your stressful week, and how you needed to let loose. whether or not they believed it was a mystery. all that mattered was within the hour, your reliable posse was following you into the house, greeted by the familiar scent of shitty beer and shittier weed.

with a flash of your university ID and $10 to the poor pledge managing the door, you set off like a lion on the prowl, aimlessly meandering around the crowds and various tables lined with red solo cups. anyone could tell you were looking for something — someone.

though the concept of a party filled with scantily-clad peers seemed like a good idea, wandering through bodies and feeling your skin rub against theirs was enough to send shivers down your spine. though it was a warm welcome compared to the hostile cold you endured on your walk-of-shame here, you weren’t sure how many “accidental” brushes against your ass or hairy legs against your thighs you could handle. you told yourself if you didn’t find hollis soon, you’d make an excuse to leave, you’d come back in a few weeks when his house would inevitably host again.

but once you saw him, you stopped dead in your tracks. suddenly, it was all worth it.

toned, lean, donning a baseball cap with his letters stitched into it. threads of his pale gold hair peak from the edges, slick with sweat. a solo cup in one hand, ping-pong ball in the other. he’s wearing plain black swim shorts, slung low on his hips so you can see his hip bones and v-line. you’re almost positive you see a happy trail, but you tell yourself that the lighting’s playing tricks on you — you tell yourself that so you don’t get dizzy and hit the floor.  

he’s the third person on that side of the table, the cups arranged in what you assumed used to be a triangle, but is now more akin to a wedge of swiss cheese. hollis tossed the ping pong ball, making sure to check his elbows before letting go, and the duo he served as a celebrity shot for erupted in cheers as he sinks a cup. 

slowly, surely, with precision and calculation, you wandered towards him. you weren’t drunk enough to full-send the interaction — the pregame was cut short. 

you pretend you don’t see him. you pretend like you’re actually interested in the ongoing game of beer pong. and thankfully, hollis lacked enough sobriety to start a conversation with you.

“you’re back,” he yells into your ear, yet you can still barely hear it above the music, the shouting, the bass rattling your bones. “i keep thinking i’m gonna see you for the last time, then you show up again.”

you smile at the thought of hollis thinking of you. “what can i say, you’ve wooed me with your free beer and cheap jungle juice.”

“nothing else?” he’s quick to quip back. you see him rummage in his pocket, your heart skips a beat —

a fresh pack of camels. you can see the plastic shimmer in the lighting.

you flash your gaze up at him, something you immediately regret with how quickly he’s able to pull the air from your lungs. despite being more naked than you’ve ever seen him, hollis is dripping in sweat. it shimmers off his body, beading around his neck and temple. you don’t miss the way his eyes graze over your body, stuttering at your exposed chest, double-taking at your stomach and thighs. 

“take a picture sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

hollis doesn’t say anything, just throws his head to the side with a smile, only to quickly rub it off his face. “you wanna smoke or what?” he asks, ignoring your accusation all-together.

you mull over the question, staring into the tea-leaves (foam) of your porcelain (red-solo) cup. 

“yeah, sure.”

he leads you through crowds, up stairs, past a closed door, and the cool air hits you hard enough to sober you up.

you hiss at it, wondering just how badly you want that cigarette. but the plastic is torn, hollis is pulling one out, and the flick, flick, flick of his lighter is enough for you to feel confident in your decision. hollis brings the lit cigarette to his lips, offering you the rest of the pack. you take one, watching as he slips it back into his pocket, waiting as he keeps puffing from his cigarette.

you stuff the filter between your lips. “you gonna offer me a light?” you ask, glaring at the lighter in his hand. you wait a moment too long to look up at hollis for an answer, expecting to see him to be taking the world longest drag. instead, the cigarette is hanging loosely from his lips. his eyes slowly glaze over your body, trailing your curves, confidently imaging what lies under the thin excuse for swimwear you have on. 

hollis purses his lips, gripping the cigarette tighter, takes a deep pull, and leans down to you, leading with the shimmering orange tip. he presses it against yours, sucking more smoke from the cig, and his eyes are trained on you like a fucking hawk. unwavering, unblinking — primal. his nose almost brushes against yours, you can hear his lungs filling with smoke. 

from this close, you can smell his cologne peaking through the layers of sweat and smoke. warm sugar, hints of something sweet and spicy, and a deep, woody scent that cradles it together. god, you feel dizzy.

you pull from your cigarette, lighting it with hollis’ lit end. the smoke fills your lungs, and he finally backs away.

despite how long he’s been pulling and the nearly opaque plume of smoke he exhales, hollis doesn’t so much as clear his throat. you’re struggling to keep a cough dow, you waited too long to breathe — that must be why your heart was beating so fast.

his gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, drunken lids half closed as his deep brown eyes stay trained on you. still sweaty, still slick — fuck, is he wearing eyeliner?

you break away from the staring contest, mumbling a sheepish “thanks…” before bringing the filter back to your lips. the drinks are starting to wear off, the cigarette isn’t enough to fuel your confidence. 

hollis shifts closer to you, his hip just barely brushing against yours. “no problem,” he mutters, mirroring your actions and taking another quick hit. 

it was…nice…kind of, just the two of you on the balcony. you wanted it to mean more, but just like his frat, hollis himself had a reputation. you didn’t have much first-hand experience with that wit, charm, and humor of his that was able to lead girls into his bed and kick them out before dawn broke. part of you knew that’s what was going on, he was just playing the long game — probably because your friend was close to the brothers, and she must’ve made him promise he’d go easy on you.

“what are you thinking about?”

his smooth voice cuts through your thoughts, managing to cull your fear and silence your worries for a brief, enjoyable moment. the buzz is finally starting to hit you, and your head feels ten pounds lighter. maybe that’s what gives you the confidence to speak your mind.

“you — this,” you gesture to the space around you, the sliver of the universe you’ve carved, letting yourself believe it could lead to something more. “just feels weird, like i’m being scouted or something.”

hollis shifts, his body facing you, eyes slowly scanning your scantily clad body. “what d’you mean?”

you laugh out a cloud of smoke, reflecting the sly, longing gaze he dragged along your body onto his own. “this,” you repeat, more clearly pointing a finger between the two of you. the buzz is getting stronger, it’s not just your head that’s floating now, but your whole body. “i’m familiar with who you are hollis, don’t think i’m falling for this ‘soft and sensual’ gimmick, i’m not gonna fall into your bed like those other chicks.”

it takes a moment for your words to hit him, but when they do, hollis’ jaw slacks, half-lidded eyes jump open, and he moves his hands up to defend himself. “woah, who said i’m tryna —”

as if on cue, as if it were scripted, one of his brothers barges through the door to the balcony, eyes moving frantically before landing on you. “yo, did you come with a friend in a pink and white polka-dot bikini?”

your eyes quickly flash to hollis, your heart flutters when they meet his. looking back to his brother, you nod. 

part of him relaxes, a different part tenses. “alright she’s like, mad sick right now, i mean she’s puking buckets into a garbage can. she’s got a couple people helping her but i really think she should be going home.”

you almost groan. this always happened,  always — “she can never hold her damn liquor…” you rub the barely lit end of your cigarette into the wooden railing, stuffing whatever was left between two of hollis’ free fingers. “no need to save it for me, i’m tryna quit.”

once you leave, hollis stubs out his cherry and flicks the filter off the balcony, shoving his palms deep into his eyes. he groans, loud, cursing and muttering under his breath. without a second thought, he adopts your half-smoked cigarette as his own, lighting it, breathing in. and on the filter between his lips and the smoke in his lungs, he relishes in the fading taste of something sweet.

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @qiyokulove @viennawaiits @thottieonline @alexislameee @hollispassengerprincess @bloomingblunt

[neo-novaa]

❧ SOBER UP ;;

warnings/tags: fem!reader, frat!hollis, smoking, drinking, party setting, fluff, light angst, no beta

synopsis: after a long week, you just needed to go out and get wasted — so what if hollis' frat was the first place you thought of?

it’s become something of a habit.

every friday night you’re constantly opening, closing, and re-opening snapchat, checking the stories of the house, his brothers, him — you tell yourself it’s because you’ve had a rough week, and you need an excuse to go out and get drunk with your friends, that’s all. 

finally, you see it: the purple ring around his brothers snapchat story. you don’t wait a second before opening it, feeling your heart flutter at the sight.

“Beach Bros & Bikini Babes! Friday 10pm-2am. You know where.”

oh, did you.

shamelessly, you screenshotted the post and sent it to your friends, following it up with a short excuse about your stressful week, and how you needed to let loose. whether or not they believed it was a mystery. all that mattered was within the hour, your reliable posse was following you into the house, greeted by the familiar scent of shitty beer and shittier weed.

with a flash of your university ID and $10 to the poor pledge managing the door, you set off like a lion on the prowl, aimlessly meandering around the crowds and various tables lined with red solo cups. anyone could tell you were looking for something — someone.

though the concept of a party filled with scantily-clad peers seemed like a good idea, wandering through bodies and feeling your skin rub against theirs was enough to send shivers down your spine. though it was a warm welcome compared to the hostile cold you endured on your walk-of-shame here, you weren’t sure how many “accidental” brushes against your ass or hairy legs against your thighs you could handle. you told yourself if you didn’t find hollis soon, you’d make an excuse to leave, you’d come back in a few weeks when his house would inevitably host again.

but once you saw him, you stopped dead in your tracks. suddenly, it was all worth it.

toned, lean, donning a baseball cap with his letters stitched into it. threads of his pale gold hair peak from the edges, slick with sweat. a solo cup in one hand, ping-pong ball in the other. he’s wearing plain black swim shorts, slung low on his hips so you can see his hip bones and v-line. you’re almost positive you see a happy trail, but you tell yourself that the lighting’s playing tricks on you — you tell yourself that so you don’t get dizzy and hit the floor.  

he’s the third person on that side of the table, the cups arranged in what you assumed used to be a triangle, but is now more akin to a wedge of swiss cheese. hollis tossed the ping pong ball, making sure to check his elbows before letting go, and the duo he served as a celebrity shot for erupted in cheers as he sinks a cup. 

slowly, surely, with precision and calculation, you wandered towards him. you weren’t drunk enough to full-send the interaction — the pregame was cut short. 

you pretend you don’t see him. you pretend like you’re actually interested in the ongoing game of beer pong. and thankfully, hollis lacked enough sobriety to start a conversation with you.

“you’re back,” he yells into your ear, yet you can still barely hear it above the music, the shouting, the bass rattling your bones. “i keep thinking i’m gonna see you for the last time, then you show up again.”

you smile at the thought of hollis thinking of you. “what can i say, you’ve wooed me with your free beer and cheap jungle juice.”

“nothing else?” he’s quick to quip back. you see him rummage in his pocket, your heart skips a beat —

a fresh pack of camels. you can see the plastic shimmer in the lighting.

you flash your gaze up at him, something you immediately regret with how quickly he’s able to pull the air from your lungs. despite being more naked than you’ve ever seen him, hollis is dripping in sweat. it shimmers off his body, beading around his neck and temple. you don’t miss the way his eyes graze over your body, stuttering at your exposed chest, double-taking at your stomach and thighs. 

“take a picture sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”

hollis doesn’t say anything, just throws his head to the side with a smile, only to quickly rub it off his face. “you wanna smoke or what?” he asks, ignoring your accusation all-together.

you mull over the question, staring into the tea-leaves (foam) of your porcelain (red-solo) cup. 

“yeah, sure.”

he leads you through crowds, up stairs, past a closed door, and the cool air hits you hard enough to sober you up.

you hiss at it, wondering just how badly you want that cigarette. but the plastic is torn, hollis is pulling one out, and the flick, flick, flick of his lighter is enough for you to feel confident in your decision. hollis brings the lit cigarette to his lips, offering you the rest of the pack. you take one, watching as he slips it back into his pocket, waiting as he keeps puffing from his cigarette.

you stuff the filter between your lips. “you gonna offer me a light?” you ask, glaring at the lighter in his hand. you wait a moment too long to look up at hollis for an answer, expecting to see him to be taking the world longest drag. instead, the cigarette is hanging loosely from his lips. his eyes slowly glaze over your body, trailing your curves, confidently imaging what lies under the thin excuse for swimwear you have on. 

hollis purses his lips, gripping the cigarette tighter, takes a deep pull, and leans down to you, leading with the shimmering orange tip. he presses it against yours, sucking more smoke from the cig, and his eyes are trained on you like a fucking hawk. unwavering, unblinking — primal. his nose almost brushes against yours, you can hear his lungs filling with smoke. 

from this close, you can smell his cologne peaking through the layers of sweat and smoke. warm sugar, hints of something sweet and spicy, and a deep, woody scent that cradles it together. god, you feel dizzy.

you pull from your cigarette, lighting it with hollis’ lit end. the smoke fills your lungs, and he finally backs away.

despite how long he’s been pulling and the nearly opaque plume of smoke he exhales, hollis doesn’t so much as clear his throat. you’re struggling to keep a cough dow, you waited too long to breathe — that must be why your heart was beating so fast.

his gaze lingers on you for a beat too long, drunken lids half closed as his deep brown eyes stay trained on you. still sweaty, still slick — fuck, is he wearing eyeliner?

you break away from the staring contest, mumbling a sheepish “thanks…” before bringing the filter back to your lips. the drinks are starting to wear off, the cigarette isn’t enough to fuel your confidence. 

hollis shifts closer to you, his hip just barely brushing against yours. “no problem,” he mutters, mirroring your actions and taking another quick hit. 

it was…nice…kind of, just the two of you on the balcony. you wanted it to mean more, but just like his frat, hollis himself had a reputation. you didn’t have much first-hand experience with that wit, charm, and humor of his that was able to lead girls into his bed and kick them out before dawn broke. part of you knew that’s what was going on, he was just playing the long game — probably because your friend was close to the brothers, and she must’ve made him promise he’d go easy on you.

“what are you thinking about?”

his smooth voice cuts through your thoughts, managing to cull your fear and silence your worries for a brief, enjoyable moment. the buzz is finally starting to hit you, and your head feels ten pounds lighter. maybe that’s what gives you the confidence to speak your mind.

“you — this,” you gesture to the space around you, the sliver of the universe you’ve carved, letting yourself believe it could lead to something more. “just feels weird, like i’m being scouted or something.”

hollis shifts, his body facing you, eyes slowly scanning your scantily clad body. “what d’you mean?”

you laugh out a cloud of smoke, reflecting the sly, longing gaze he dragged along your body onto his own. “this,” you repeat, more clearly pointing a finger between the two of you. the buzz is getting stronger, it’s not just your head that’s floating now, but your whole body. “i’m familiar with who you are hollis, don’t think i’m falling for this ‘soft and sensual’ gimmick, i’m not gonna fall into your bed like those other chicks.”

it takes a moment for your words to hit him, but when they do, hollis’ jaw slacks, half-lidded eyes jump open, and he moves his hands up to defend himself. “woah, who said i’m tryna —”

as if on cue, as if it were scripted, one of his brothers barges through the door to the balcony, eyes moving frantically before landing on you. “yo, did you come with a friend in a pink and white polka-dot bikini?”

your eyes quickly flash to hollis, your heart flutters when they meet his. looking back to his brother, you nod. 

part of him relaxes, a different part tenses. “alright she’s like, mad sick right now, i mean she’s puking buckets into a garbage can. she’s got a couple people helping her but i really think she should be going home.”

you almost groan. this always happened,  always — “she can never hold her damn liquor…” you rub the barely lit end of your cigarette into the wooden railing, stuffing whatever was left between two of hollis’ free fingers. “no need to save it for me, i’m tryna quit.”

once you leave, hollis stubs out his cherry and flicks the filter off the balcony, shoving his palms deep into his eyes. he groans, loud, cursing and muttering under his breath. without a second thought, he adopts your half-smoked cigarette as his own, lighting it, breathing in. and on the filter between his lips and the smoke in his lungs, he relishes in the fading taste of something sweet.

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @qiyokulove @viennawaiits @thottieonline @alexislameee @hollispassengerprincess @bloomingblunt

[neo-novaa]

reader meeting frat!hollis at a party...ᥫ᭡

frat!hollis who is the only guy in the house who gets his nic fix from cigs. everyone else is popping zyns or hitting geek bars, and hollis is the only one who rejects the gross modernity, and embraces tradition. he claims it’s because he prefers the taste, but everyone knows he only smokes to aura farm — it works, because that’s how he met you. 

“fuck, i need a cig.” you say into a dwindling solo cup of beer, tipping out the rest of its foamy contents. none of your friends smoked, and you just finished your last pack a few days ago. you kept telling yourself you'd run by the drug store, pick up some snacks and a new pack, but there was always something getting in the way. 

your friend — the one that dragged you here — interjects excitedly. "oh, one of the brothers has some! i think he smokes camels, you cool with that?"

your eyes light up at the mention of your brand “oh yeah.” you express enthusiastic interest, trailing your friend as she weaves you through crowds to find this camel-smoking knight in shining armor.

frat!hollis who, despite his affiliation, isn’t as douchey as you expected. his frat had something of a reputation (don’t they all?) and while you wouldn’t admit to this, part of you was worried when he invited you out on the porch, just the two of you, to share a cig.

the air is brisk, wind finding all the holes in your clothes and hitting you where it hurts. you seek warmth in the cigarette between your fingers, every hit provides only a moment of respite.

“i don’t think i’ve seen you around here before,” hollis starts, voice and eyes carrying a gentleness you weren’t expecting. “you a freshman?”

“oh, god no,” you laugh out smoke, pulling away from your cigarette for only a moment — you immediately miss it’s warmth. “i’ve done my time here, but this is my first party at the house.”

“really?” he sounds surprised, bringing the cigarette to his lips, passing the talking stick right back to you.”

“yeah…” you tap out the growing ash. “my friend dragged me here cause she’s trying to hook up with this guy tonight.  he said he might pull up, but she didn’t want to come alone in case he didn’t show…”

hollis nods along to your story, you try and ignore the fact that he’s staring at you. your cigarette is out, but there’s still a blooming warmth in your chest.

frat!hollis who starts looking for you more. in the city, on campus, at parties — he’s always looking for you, always scanning the room the second he enters one to find you. when he finally does, two weeks later when his house is throwing another party, it’s him who takes the initiative, and asks you for a smoke.

you’re getting deja vu on this porch. talking about anything and everything, smoking cigs until your throat was so dry you could barely speak— 

“kinda feels like we’ve been here before.” your drunk mind doesn’t give you the chance to finish your thought before you say it. this time, you and hollis are passing a cigarette back and forth. he brings it to you, his slim, elegant fingers brushing against yours as you take the offer.

“kind of does,” he leans against the railing, sliding his finger through the cracks of the wood. “gotta admit, i’m surprised you came back.”

after a long drag you nod at his words, coughing up a chuckle alongside your plume of smoke. “gotta admit, i’m a bit shocked myself.” you don’t wait for hollis to take the cig, you stuff it between his fingers that are playing with the splinters of the railing. your heart flips when he chuckles at your actions.

“oh yeah?” his eyes meet yours, you immediately catch the way he glances at your lips. “didn’t come here for years, now you’re on your way to becoming a frat rat.” 

“jesus, do not call me a fuckin’ frat rat.” you audibly laugh at his accusation, hollis catches the way you glance at his lips. 

“what brought you back?” he asks, avoiding your gaze as he takes a drag of straight filter. he’s about to give you shit about finishing his cigarette, but you don’t give him the chance. you’re already prancing inside, making sure to look back at him before the door closes.

hollis glances down to the filter, gently thumbs the lipstick stain you left on the golden beige skin, and decides to shove the piece of trash into his back pocket. just to avoid littering, he tells himself. 

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @cryptxicdoll @teenagesoldiers @qiyokulove @zieb0rg @candidqueens @hollispassengerprincess @alexislameee @viennawaiits @thottieonline

[neo-novaa]

holy shit i fucking cooked

[neo-novaa]

miss u and ur fics <3 hope u are doing well!!

omg you guys were so sweet while i was gone :((

[neo-novaa]

i miss u

coming back to tumblr and opening my asks feels like breaking no contact with an ex

[neo-novaa]

frat!hollis ….#thinking

[neo-novaa]

this new rommulas is straight dookie from a butt

[neo-novaa]

please please please frat!hollis multi chapter series… i am picking up what ur putting down and i need it.

oh dont worry it is in the works!! i’ve got a decently sized drabble written up rn…just trying to get some input on what the people want :3

[neo-novaa]

drunk messy sex drunk drunk sex drunk sex 2hollis drunk sex i'm thinking. i'm thinking really hard right now

oh anon i am.thinking so hard rn…..

cw :: drunk sex, dubcon

leaving a bar or a club or an after party or something where you and hollis are fucked up beyond recognition, and exhibiting a frankly embarassing amount of pda. you can’t remember if either of you called the uber or if it was from a victim of your unwavering desires — it didn’t matter, you barely remembered the ride home anyways.

what you do remember is stumbling through the door of your apartment, shirts off before your shoes. you get lost in each other, hands wandering and grasping and fondling skin. the kiss you share is all tooth and tongue, you can still taste the vodka on his lips.

you’re partially clothed when you make it to bed, and it’s not for a lack of trying. the sweat makes your pants stick to your legs, you don’t even want to think about the effort it’d take to get hollis out of his skinny jeans. not to mention how drunk you both are, and the simple task of undoing a belt now required intelligence akin to solving a sphinxes riddles, three. you chase whatever pleasure you can get through these impenetrable layers, helplessly grinding your hips against each other.

hollis breaks the kiss to graze his teeth along your neck. nipping, licking, sucking on the sensitive skin. you whine at the contact, gliding your clothed clit along his hard-on.

“ohh fuck,” it’s the first thing he’s said since you got back — not that he had much of a chance with how busy his mouth has been. “y’feel too fuckin good, gonna make me come in my pants.” his speech is so slurred and your mind is working so slow, it takes you a minute to process his words.

“i wouldn’t be mad.” you say with a giggle, and hollis nudges your temple with a scoff filled with feigned offense. “i would mind,” his words break you from your trance. “i’d be pissed off if i didn’t get t’fuck you tonight.”

you overestimated how difficult it’d be to get your pants off — you underestimated how difficult it’d be getting hollis’ pants off.

it takes a joint effort to undo both his belt and the button, even more so to pull the tight denim down his legs. you’re only able to get them halfway down to his knees before deciding it’s more than enough.

despite the drinks, hollis is hard — he’s aching, you can see it in his flushed tip and beaded slit peaking from the waistband over his briefs; whiskey dick is scared of him. he barely pulls them down before lining up to you, gathering your slick before sliding into you with ease.

you’re both groaning at the pleasure, finally getting exactly what you’ve wanted since that second shot hit your bloodstream. you pull hollis close, shoving his face into your neck, digging your nails into his back as he fucks you relentlessly. his hands are on your hips, raising you up from the mattress at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“so good f’me. god , y’feel so fuckin’ good baby, takin’ all of me so well.” hollis babbles as he fucks you, only pausing his words to moan into the bruised skin of your neck.

with his sloppy thrusts and the obscene amount of slick between your thighs, his dick slips out of you almost every other thrust. every time, hollis curses under his breath before lining himself back up, and resuming his pace as if nothing happened.

to make up for it, hollis snakes a hand between your bodies, uncoordinated fingers finding your clit and rubbing messy circles. the new stimulation has your back arching, chest pressing against his. hollis pulls away, hair draped in your face, cocky smirk and drunken eyes staring back at you. if you were capable of forming real, human words, you’d tell him how close you were.

just when you feel yourself nearing that edge, hollis pulls his hand from your clit and pulls out of you, making you whine and writhe from the lack of stimulation. without another word he grabs your hand the cradles his face, bringing it back down with him to your sopping cunt. hollis spreads fingers to form a “V” at your entrance — you look up at him with wide, confused doe eyes.

hollis meets your gaze for a moment, his eyes holding nothing but raw, dark desire. you don’t get the chance to ask what he’s doing before you feel his tip rubbing against your fingers, just before he slides inside you again.

the weight of his actions finally hit you square in the chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

you can feel him fucking in and out of you, you can feel that foamy white ring forming around the base of his cock as his juices mix with yours. you feel the brush of his pelvis against your knuckles every time he bottoms out, you’re bucking your hips to try and make up for the centimeter of lost length — how greedy of you…

“feel y’squeezing me, gonna come?” he takes your moans as confirmation. “yeah, come on me, keep squeezing this dick, make a big fuckin’ mess.”

his words are what finally tip you over. your body shivers, pulls taut, running white hot — you do just as he told you, gushing around his cock as you writhe through your orgasm.

“shit, i’m so close, y’feel too good baby. i can’t pull out, ‘m so sorry.” in any other state you’d put up a fight. but with how fucked out you were, you didn’t have it in you to protest — not to mention the wave of arousal that washed down your spine at the thought of him stuffing you full.

hollis shivers as he comes inside you, panting your name into the crook of your neck as his thrusts slow down. his hand finds yours at the connection between the base of his cock and the entrance of your cunt, fingers collecting the mix of cum and slick that oozes out of you.

he raises his hand back to you, running his thumb along your lips, silently asking for asylum. you grant it without second thought, and swirl your tongue around hollis’ fingers, quietly moaning at the taste of your mixed juices.

if there was any sobriety left in you, you’d peel away from hollis, and try to wash off all the sweat and grime you’ve accumulated over the night. but in your fucked out, fucked up, blissful state, you couldn’t care less. right now, the only thing that held any importance to you was staying in hollis’ arms, and letting sleep envelop you both.

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @qiyokulove @viennawaiits @thottieonline

[neo-novaa]

drunk messy sex drunk drunk sex drunk sex 2hollis drunk sex i'm thinking. i'm thinking really hard right now

oh anon i am.thinking so hard rn…..

cw :: drunk sex, dubcon

leaving a bar or a club or an after party or something where you and hollis are fucked up beyond recognition, and exhibiting a frankly embarassing amount of pda. you can’t remember if either of you called the uber or if it was from a victim of your unwavering desires — it didn’t matter, you barely remembered the ride home anyways.

what you do remember is stumbling through the door of your apartment, shirts off before your shoes. you get lost in each other, hands wandering and grasping and fondling skin. the kiss you share is all tooth and tongue, you can still taste the vodka on his lips.

you’re partially clothed when you make it to bed, and it’s not for a lack of trying. the sweat makes your pants stick to your legs, you don’t even want to think about the effort it’d take to get hollis out of his skinny jeans. not to mention how drunk you both are, and the simple task of undoing a belt now required intelligence akin to solving a sphinxes riddles, three. you chase whatever pleasure you can get through these impenetrable layers, helplessly grinding your hips against each other.

hollis breaks the kiss to graze his teeth along your neck. nipping, licking, sucking on the sensitive skin. you whine at the contact, gliding your clothed clit along his hard-on.

“ohh fuck,” it’s the first thing he’s said since you got back — not that he had much of a chance with how busy his mouth has been. “y’feel too fuckin good, gonna make me come in my pants.” his speech is so slurred and your mind is working so slow, it takes you a minute to process his words.

“i wouldn’t be mad.” you say with a giggle, and hollis nudges your temple with a scoff filled with feigned offense. “i would mind,” his words break you from your trance. “i’d be pissed off if i didn’t get t’fuck you tonight.”

you overestimated how difficult it’d be to get your pants off — you underestimated how difficult it’d be getting hollis’ pants off.

it takes a joint effort to undo both his belt and the button, even more so to pull the tight denim down his legs. you’re only able to get them halfway down to his knees before deciding it’s more than enough.

despite the drinks, hollis is hard — he’s aching, you can see it in his flushed tip and beaded slit peaking from the waistband over his briefs; whiskey dick is scared of him. he barely pulls them down before lining up to you, gathering your slick before sliding into you with ease.

you’re both groaning at the pleasure, finally getting exactly what you’ve wanted since that second shot hit your bloodstream. you pull hollis close, shoving his face into your neck, digging your nails into his back as he fucks you relentlessly. his hands are on your hips, raising you up from the mattress at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“so good f’me. god , y’feel so fuckin’ good baby, takin’ all of me so well.” hollis babbles as he fucks you, only pausing his words to moan into the bruised skin of your neck.

with his sloppy thrusts and the obscene amount of slick between your thighs, his dick slips out of you almost every other thrust. every time, hollis curses under his breath before lining himself back up, and resuming his pace as if nothing happened.

to make up for it, hollis snakes a hand between your bodies, uncoordinated fingers finding your clit and rubbing messy circles. the new stimulation has your back arching, chest pressing against his. hollis pulls away, hair draped in your face, cocky smirk and drunken eyes staring back at you. if you were capable of forming real, human words, you’d tell him how close you were.

just when you feel yourself nearing that edge, hollis pulls his hand from your clit and pulls out of you, making you whine and writhe from the lack of stimulation. without another word he grabs your hand the cradles his face, bringing it back down with him to your sopping cunt. hollis spreads fingers to form a “V” at your entrance — you look up at him with wide, confused doe eyes.

hollis meets your gaze for a moment, his eyes holding nothing but raw, dark desire. you don’t get the chance to ask what he’s doing before you feel his tip rubbing against your fingers, just before he slides inside you again.

the weight of his actions finally hit you square in the chest, knocking the air from your lungs.

you can feel him fucking in and out of you, you can feel that foamy white ring forming around the base of his cock as his juices mix with yours. you feel the brush of his pelvis against your knuckles every time he bottoms out, you’re bucking your hips to try and make up for the centimeter of lost length — how greedy of you…

“feel y’squeezing me, gonna come?” he takes your moans as confirmation. “yeah, come on me, keep squeezing this dick, make a big fuckin’ mess.”

his words are what finally tip you over. your body shivers, pulls taut, running white hot — you do just as he told you, gushing around his cock as you writhe through your orgasm.

“shit, i’m so close, y’feel too good baby. i can’t pull out, ‘m so sorry.” in any other state you’d put up a fight. but with how fucked out you were, you didn’t have it in you to protest — not to mention the wave of arousal that washed down your spine at the thought of him stuffing you full.

hollis shivers as he comes inside you, panting your name into the crook of your neck as his thrusts slow down. his hand finds yours at the connection between the base of his cock and the entrance of your cunt, fingers collecting the mix of cum and slick that oozes out of you.

he raises his hand back to you, running his thumb along your lips, silently asking for asylum. you grant it without second thought, and swirl your tongue around hollis’ fingers, quietly moaning at the taste of your mixed juices.

if there was any sobriety left in you, you’d peel away from hollis, and try to wash off all the sweat and grime you’ve accumulated over the night. but in your fucked out, fucked up, blissful state, you couldn’t care less. right now, the only thing that held any importance to you was staying in hollis’ arms, and letting sleep envelop you both.

taglist ᝰ.ᐟ | @777lifeline @s7nburn @tempified @bexszlut @ddlydevotion @ilovenettspend @qiyokulove @viennawaiits @thottieonline