#kyle gallner smut

[strang3lov3]

With the head of his cock fit snugly inside your entrance, Benson inches his way into you, only to be met with resistance. You whimper at the stretch, clutching his sides tightly in your sweaty palms.

“C’mon, sweetheart, work with me here,” Benson whispers, his hot breath tickling your ear. “You’re only makin’ it worse for yourself, squeezing me like that.” 

“It just–it hurts, Benny.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” he nods, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding it in a less than gentle way. Benson looks so scary and handsome as he scans your face - blue eyes gorgeous as ever, but they’re so dark, and so empty. He loves the way your eyes dart left and right, so wide and nervous. Sparkling with everything his own lack. “I get it. But you’re gonna be a good girl, right?"

[urcallousedbaby]

Shit. I Need A De-Stresser

Kyle Gallner as Joel 

Warnings: 18+, one shot, pwp, cabezaaaa (male receiving) gn! reader, degradation, facial.

You go visit Joel at his job and are met with a restless, annoyed, and silent boyfriend. 

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

You went down to the New Jersey station after not seeing your boyfriend for 2 days. He would send you messages saying that he was gonna stay after. You were tired of having an empty bed all by yourself, especially with all the recent suspicious suicides and killings that were happening around town. You grabbed your keys and went into the car, a bit anxious in the state I was gonna see him in. You arrived at the station after 15 minutes and were met with one of his friends. His eyes widened when he saw you, you immediately knew that something was wrong.

“He’s bad y/n…” he said and realized you somehow were already at the door of his office. 

You hesitated knocking but ultimately did so, you needed to see Joel, needed to feel him on you, his eyes looking at you. You wanted your boyfriend. You sighed and knocked on the door. You were met with a “come in” and you did. You were met with an absurd amount of bloody ways a person could end their own life. You weren’t used to it but ignored them and looked at the silhouette in the corner. 

“You’re.. here. Why?” I heard Joel say in a raspy monotone voice. 

“I came to see you, been missin’ you for the past couple of days.” I said, he came out of the corner and I saw what looked like my boyfriend but this was not him. His eyes were bloodshot red and he had big bags under his eyes. His eyes looked sunken in, his hair was messy and his clothes looked like they’d been slept in. His eyes looked different. As if he was desperate for something. 

“What do you want y/n?” he said, in a rather rude tone. 

“No, you’re not about to avoid this situation by trying to argue. Babe, what's wrong?” you replied. You read right through him and his avoidant personality when something’s stressing him out. He looked at you defeated, letting out a big breath. 

“This fuckin’ case is just so confusing, we haven’t got no real breakthrough. It’s stressing me the fuck out. Shit. I need a de-stresser.” he said. 

Something about the way he was in a sense, begging for you to help de-stress did something to you, you were just wanting to jump on his bones. You grabbed his collared shirt that was already distressed and sat him down on his couch. You smashed your lips to his and felt his hands reaching inside your shirt, unclipping your bra. He successfully unclipped it and started tugging up at your shirt to which you proceeded to dry hump him over his clothes. you looked at him and could feel his desperation in wanting you, you wanted the same. 

You grabbed his belt buckle and quickly unbuckled him, letting his dick spring out. Your mouth latched on it like a Garra Rufa, producing saliva in your mouth to suck him sloppily. you spit on his balls and started to slowly massage them. you spit on your hands and started kissing his balls, looking up at him and started sucking on them. while sucking, you were pumping your hands on his base, going teasingly slow since he didn’t wanna come home. 

he could sense the brattiness in the way you was teasing him, he yanked your head back, grabbing your hair and saying

“oh? a slut wants to act up knowing they’ve probably been touching theirself every night since i haven't been home.” he let go of your hair and you went back to sucking on him, hands on the base pumping up and down, your tongue swirling around his shaft.

 He pushed your head all the way down to where your nose was getting tickled by his pubes. He wasn’t messy, he maintains his hygiene and they had been freshly trimmed since the last time you went down on him. You were trying to come back up for air but he kept you down, situating himself in a way that would give him better access to your mouth. With his grip still on your hair, he started moving you up and down at a more faster speed. 

you couldn’t breathe but you were moaning around him, sending the vibrations up his body— earning groans from him. you started tapping his thigh as a sign to let you get air and he did. your face covered in your own saliva, he liked his lips and grabbed your face and smashed your lips together. your tongue was swirling in his mouth and he started sucking on your lip. 

you could feel his muscles getting tense so you quickly went down on your knees and he positioned himself right in front of your face and you kitty licked his tip to which he came all in your face. 

“did that de-stress you enough?”

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

-j 

suciassss

[boypied]

TALK DIRTY TO ME.

pairings: kyle gallner x male reader

summary: kyle and male reader have hot phone sex (that's all).

warnings: SMUT, dirty talk, edging, masterbation.

You and Kyle had been on a off for a couple of months, and yet you always went back to each other, most of the time it was whenever you were both horny and in desperate need of your balls draining. Kyle was the only guy who could practically make you cum in an instant, it was like he knew your body better then you which is crazy to even think about. With one thrust of his hips he had you shooting thick creamy ropes of cum all over his and your chests, he was an incredible lover. Now Kyle is on the other side of the world filming a movie and you are desperately in need of... release.

"So... what are you wearing?" Kyle mutters out through in a breathy whisper, he palms at his clothed bulge, wanting to hear your sweet voice. "Just a jockstrap... your favourite one." You say in a seductive tone down the phone, hearing Kyle squirm through the phone. He slowly wraps his veiny hand around his rock-hard member, giving it a couple jerks before the real fun begins. "Are you touching yourself?" You ask him softly, "mhm" he mutters out as he strokes his cock gently back and forth imagining your ass wrapped around his cock.

"fuckin' hell. I wish I had you bouncing on this cock" Kyle murmurs out, "you want that daddy?" You tease him "imagine me riding that big cock, feeling it ruin me" you say seductively in a whisper causing his body to shiver with pleasure as he beats his meat, edging himself closer and closer to the climax. "We've been talking for hours now and you've only just started touching yourself?" You murmur out hearing his cute moans and the sound of pre-cum coating his cock.

"You close?" You ask Kyle, "y-yes" he whimpers out beating his more for an inch of its life "cum for me daddy" I say seductively hearing his whimpers "y/n!" He coos out a couple more times before shooting thick ropes of cum all over his chest, "A-AH" you bite your lip hearing the sound of his cum hit his chest "sounded like a big load" you giggle out causing him to chuckle sounding out of breath "the moment I'm done with this movie I'm going to fuck you so hard... you won't be able to walk" Kyle says seductively causing you to bite your lip "I'll be waiting stud."

taglist - @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronaaaaaaa @irlsamcarpenter

it's been a while (SORRY). Here's a cute lil' fic.

[digitalpup444]

am i gonna have to take matters into my own hands and make simon (dia) x reader smut….

let me know what yall wanna see 😭 i’ll start writing asap.

[lunchinamerica]

˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝜗℘

୨୧﹒﹒𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭. ۫ ·𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒smut ☆ fluff ★ angst ✿

﹒ ◠ info under cut ! ͘ ౨ ⸝⸝⸝ most rec ꒰bully - derrick

 　　　　　୨୧ 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

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 　　　　　୨୧ 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

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 　　　　　୨୧ 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　　. ۫ · bully - your bully, derrick, defends you ㅤ ˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪˖𓏲﹒pt. 1, pt. 2 coming soon

　　　　��� ୨୧ 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

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˖ㅤㅤ۫ㅤ ˚ ۪ 𝜗℘ 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐊𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐧𝐞𝐫 . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

　loading...

　　　　　 ୨୧ 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 the passenger . ৎ .ᐟ ۫

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ㅤㅤㅤ౨౿ ﹒𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ incest ╰﹐siblings, parent/child, cousins

⸝⸝ pedophilia ╰﹐if the reader or character is a minor I won't do it

⸝⸝ inflation

⸝⸝ sexual assault ╰﹐not including cnc

⸝⸝ scat play ╰﹐fecal matter

𐙚ᣟ݂﹒𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨﹒

⸝⸝ safe age gap ╰﹐they are still of age

⸝⸝ stalking

⸝⸝ anything else you can think of ╰﹐if I don't like what is in your request I may not do it

ㅤ ˖ㅤ ㅤ۫ ㅤ if you have any questions don't be scared to ask or req﹗✦

[kill-me-in-your-white-tee]

Pretty Little Thing, H. Farrell.

plotless smut, afab! reader + frontal penetration, praise, rough sex, choking, dom! hasil / sub! reader, multiple positions, pull out method (be responsible and don't do this irl), reader is crossfaded off of weed and nicotine, not proofread _ got lazy near the end.

"Gonna give you everything you've been beggin' for in that pretty little head of yours."

His voice barely cut through the thick clouds of pleasure that crowded your senses. The smoky amber haze of your bedroom combined with the mixture of THC and nicotine in your system made the sensation of him burying himself balls deep into your cunt all the more dizzying. Through tears and dark false lashes, the sight of his glistening skin strung tight over bulging muscles and his dark curls that clung to his cheeks and collarbone sent shivers of arousal through your being. Instinctively, you tightened around him, drawing out a low hiss and a stifled sound of pleasure from Hasil.

His strong, calloused hands gripped the sensitive skin of your hip as well as the calf of the leg tossed lazily over his shoulder. Each snap of his hips sent electricity through your veins and hurdled you closer to climax. He pulled you into his thrusts, making each drag of his curved cock against your walls press dangerously close to the spongy sweet spot that sent you reeling.

"Every filthy thing you didn't know how to ask for," he panted breathlessly against the skin of your knee before trailing passionate kisses up your thighs. "I'm gon' give it to you. Gonna treat you just how you like to be treated." As each press of his lips drew closer to wet, sloppy mess between your legs, the arch of your back deepened as he held his body impossibly closer. Losing whatever remnants of restraint, groans and whines slipped past your lips freely.

His lips trail over your stomach and through the valley of your breasts before settling against your jugular, his tongue snaking over the red love bites he had bitten into your skin.

"Sound so fuckin' pretty like that," his voice was low and hoarse, raspy from both the weed and arousal. "Each of those sounds go straight to my head. You have no idea what you do to me."

"Fuck! Has, please," your voice shook with each volatile rock of his hips. If you were sober, you may have felt your cheeks burn from the frantic slap of skin echoing off of the walls or the guttural - borderline pornographic - noises leaving the both of you.

His pace slowed, but only long enough for him to toss your other leg over his shoulder and to press flat against your thighs, sinking even deeper into your pussy. You gasp, only to be cut short by his massive hand pulling away from one of your breasts to wrap around your throat. He squeezes, allowing just enough pressure to render you thoughtless and completely cock-drunk.

Those gentle blue eyes of his that you absolutely adored burned holes through your skin as your own screw shut. A strained mewl dies in your throat as he shifted his hold to your jaw, holding your face mere inches from his.

"Eyes on me, baby," he purred, his breath warm and sweet against her burning flesh. "Don't even think about looking away, 'specially not after you ask for all this."

"H-Hasil," you slurred through ruined makeup and spit that coated the corners of your mouth from drooling into the pillow and all over his cock minutes prior. "Too much! Please-"

"Shh," he chuckles into her lips. "C'mon, sugar, you can take it," his hips began to snap even more forcefully against hers. "I know you can."

Pathetic whines are the only thing you could muster before you were clinging to him, your nails dragging against his scalp and the pale skin of his back. Lost in the sudden waves of bliss, you practically shriek into his shoulder as you come, spasming wildly around his cock.

"Fuck," his voice tensed in the all-too-familiar way that signaled his closeness. "Ain't nobody ever gonna fuck you like this, not the way I fuck you. You hear me?" His voice wavers alongside the steady pace of his hips. His grip tightened as he lost himself in the feeling of you coming undone around him. Small whimpers lazily covered by growls join the euphony of slapping skin and wetness.

"Shit--baby--I'm there," his hips stuttered as he quickly pulled himself out. The hand around her hip flew to wrap around his cock, squeezing his shaft tightly as he shut his eyes and replayed those filthy sounds that left your body. "There you go," he groaned as he came undone, coating her womb and swollen lips with his cum. "Fuck, there you go. Fuckin' take it," his hips snapped against his hand as he emptied himself onto your still writhing figure.

He leaned down to press sloppy kisses to her cheek, earning breathy giggles from the both of them.

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

The Outsider: Part 6

Hasil Farrell x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Swearing, Alcohol (Mostly Farrell Wine) Gun Violence, Broken Established Relationship, Cheating, Domestic Violence, murder

- Part 5 Here -

——————————

18+ Only

——————————

You knew it would go wrong, you just had a gut feeling.

But you also knew it was the only way to lure Wyatt and his people away from the clan, from the woman and children and elderly folk that couldn’t stand up for themselves, and that alone was worth the risk.

Hasil hadn’t liked the thought of it when G’win pitched the idea, but she promised him you’d be safe.

You promised Hasil you could handle it, and Hasil promised you, that no matter what, he’d protect you.

The plan was for you to lure them to the caves, where you’d be strung up and feigning a kidnapping.

You’d call out for Wyatt, and then distract him with a story, tell him you’d been tortured, beaten, that you’d longed for him to save you, all the while Hasil and his clan who would be hiding in the trees, behind boulders and in the caves, would encircle the Losties, ambush them when they were distracted.

Only it hadn’t gone that way, not exactly.

You’d felt nervous, you hadn’t wanted to see Wyatt again, let alone pretend to need him. You were hoisted just off the ground, your hands bound above you, your feet tied together. Chicken blood smeared across your flowing white dress to make it look like you were injured.

Hasil was gentle when he tied you up, and by the look on his face you could tell he just wanted to cut you down and run away with you, but it was too late for that now.

“That’s not too tight is it?” He asked gently.

You shook your head, “I’m okay, Hasil. Are you okay?” You forced a soft smile.

He feigned a smile back although it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah…”

“Hey… it’s gonna be okay.”

Hasil nodded, and stepped back slowly, hesitant to leave you there. “I love you, you know that right?”

You grinned, letting out a soft laugh, “Impossible not to know. I love you.”

Once everyone had taken their positions, you had to just wait. Wait for Wyatt to come and find you, the exact opposite of what you’d been doing for the last few weeks, but you hoped this would be the last time you ever needed to see his face.

——————————

Wyatt and his men were growing tired, the mountain proving to be more difficult to navigate than previously thought.

The air was heavy, thick, warm. They struggled upwards, almost as if the mountain was trying to fight them, push them to give up, turn around, go back down below.

But Wyatt was determined, he only had one thing on his mind.

When he found you, he was going to beat you within an inch of your life. He was going to show you why you should never even think of leaving him again, and he was going to kill Hasil, and anyone who tried to get in his way.

A few hours passed, and the group had to stop, exhaustion burning their lungs and muscles, their weapons weighing them down into the fertile mountain soil like the ground itself was feeding on them, swallowing them into the mountain.

Wyatt’s friend Garrett sat down on the ground, panting and fighting to catch his breath. He placed his backpack down, and reached for his bottle of water.

Something glistened in the undergrowth, shiny and out of place against the dark greens and browns.

He bent over and reached for it, holding the cold, shiny object on the flat of his palm.

“The fuck is that?” Wyatt asked, walking over, having noticed the curiosity on his friends face.

He took the object from Garretts hand, holding it to the light.

His jaw clenched, fury filling him the second he recognised it.

Your wedding ring, discarded and forgotten, just like him.

You would never know it, but it had sealed your fate in the palm of his hand, his one purpose shifting to something entirely different, and far more sinister.

———————————

You were beginning to grow sore, hanging from the tree for god knows how long, but Hasil periodically poked his head out from his hiding spot to blow you kisses, mouthing to you to check you were still ok.

You lied and nodded, smiling at him reassuringly. Part of you wanted to call it quits. To be cut down, to try and formulate another plan in the little time you had, but you knew there wasn’t time and this was, somehow, the best plan.

Eventually there was a shift, and it was almost as if the mountain told you you weren’t alone anymore, woodland creatures scattering from their homes and birds cawing in the trees above.

Everyone got into position, and it was suddenly, almost too suddenly, time.

Hasil gave you one last look, gave you the signal, and you took a deep breath.

Wyatt and his men were close, so you let out a loud cry, and your voice carried effortlessly against the gentle wind that floated down the mountain.

“Help!” You cried, in your best distraught voice. “Please! Somebody help me!”

Hasil and the others watched you from their hiding spots, and Hasil’s heart lurched at every cry.

He knew it was a ploy, but he couldn’t help the way your voice made him want to drop everything and cut you down. To hold you in his arms and protect you against all bad things in the world. You were everything, nothing compared to you, and nothing was worth doing if it was without you.

Every breath he took was for you, and it took every ounce of willpower not to fall to your knees, carry you in his arms and make love to you until the sun came up.

He had to snap out of it, to hold on just a little longer, it was the only way to protect his family and ultimately, you.

“Please!” You cried out, “Is there anybody out there? Help me!”

Another stab to poor Hasil’s heart.

“Y/N!” You heard Wyatt’s voice call out.

Your stomach dropped, and you began to shake.

“Wyatt! Is that you? I’m over here!” You forced out, but every part of you screamed to just stay quiet.

You could see Wyatt in the distance, and you were surprised by the number of people that had followed him, suddenly worried you’d be outnumbered.

You felt a pit of nausea build in your stomach at the sight of him.

Forcing the bad feeling away, you cried out again, wriggling against your constraints as he got close enough to see you.

“Wyatt! Thank god, please help me!” You sounded desperate, a great actress in your own mind.

When he walked into the small clearing, you noticed that the look on his face was far darker and more void of emotions than it had ever been before. There was no sign of relief, no smile to indicate he was happy to see you, just a disgusted frown under his brown moustache.

He stopped just in front of you, his men filtering in around him and some moving to you for help.

Wyatt held out a hand to stop them.

“Baby?” You whimpered. It may have been directed at Wyatt, but you were calling out for Hasil now, fear rippling beneath your skin like nettles.

You pulled at the constraints against your wrists, your nerves getting the better of you. You wanted out, something on his face telling you you’d made a horrible mistake.

Wyatt stood below you, his entourage lingering behind, confusion on their faces as to why he wasn’t rushing to your aid. His helpless wife, injured and tied and calling out to him, something that would cause any normal man to break.

Suddenly, Wyatt cracked a sickening smile, chuckling menacingly, “You really think I’m that fuckin’ stupid?” He said softly, calmly.

“What do you mean? Help me, Wyatt, get me down from here, please!” Your chest began to tighten as you struggled against the ropes, real fear beginning to take hold.

Wyatt held your wedding ring between his fingers up to the light, watching as the fat diamond shone, a reminder of better times now long buried.

“I should have known, before I married you, that were a fuckin’ whore.”

Wyatt threw the ring to the ground, reached behind his back, and pulled out a pistol from his waistband.

“Wyatt…” your voice quivered.

The air stilled as he pointed the gun at you and pulled the trigger.

The sound rippled through the trees, Wyatt’s followers flinching, covering their ears in surprise, and birds left their perches and scattered noisily into the air above.

Hasil’s body turned cold, and for a split second he couldn’t move, but he forced himself to stand from his spot behind the trees.

“What the fuck, man?” Someone yelled.

“I didn’t sign up for this-“

Hasil’s knees buckled as he watched from his vantage point as you gasped, hot blood spreading across the white dress from the centre of your stomach.

“No… No!” Hasil cried, stumbling forward. “What have you done?!”

Wyatt, still expressionless, turned and pointed his gun at Hasil. He moved to pull the trigger again but Lil Foster was quick to appear from his

spot behind a tree and pull his crossbow on him.

The rest of the clan, one by one, stood from their hiding spots, and Wyatt and his men watched wearily as slowly, they grew outnumbered.

Although they had more firepower, they were cornered, and there was no chance of getting out unscathed. Wyatt and Lil Foster now stood head to head, both ready and prepared to make the first move as Hasil made his way down to you.

He didn’t care that there were Losties with weapons, all he cares about was getting to you, panic tearing at his lungs and muscles as he stumbled over dirt and roots and rocks.

The air was silent, thick with regret and anticipation as he pulled his knife and quickly worked to cut you down.

You fell into his arms, your hands desperately clutching the gunshot wound in your abdomen.

“Hasil-“ you choked, “I…”

“Shhh, shhh…” he stroked your hair with watery eyes and laid you back gently.

Hasil’s heart was colliding against his chest at a dizzying pace, he felt sick, disbelief stunning him for a second, but the blood that poured over your fingers only solidified what was happening, and he moved your hands to take over.

Pressing against the wound was no use, you were bleeding too profusely, the colour in your skin quickly ebbing.

“You’re gonna be okay, y’hear me? Baby? You’re gonna be fine.” He picked you up in his arms and held you tightly against him, kissing your face desperately.

You tried to tell him you loved him, to thank him for showing you love could be beautiful, but words were failing you as you gasped and choked.

“No darlin’, please, please… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He peppered desperate kisses into your hair, terror and heartbreak washing over him as you began to shake.

One of Wyatt’s followers dropped his gun to the floor and held his hands up, backing away.

“Wyatt man, I didn’t sign up for this. You said you wanted to get her back, this isn’t what I thought you meant.”

Still pointing his gun at Lil Foster, Wyatt turned his head to look at him, then at you crumpled and broken and lifeless in Hasil’s arms as wept and wailed.

“Bitch got what she deserved.”

Hasil stilled, the cold feeling in his bones turning white hot as rage ran through him.

Carefully, Hasil placed you down on the ground, his tears stilling and his jaw clenching.

“The fuck did you just say?” Hasil’s voice was low, but he knew Wyatt heard him by the way the clan adjusted their stances, ready for what was coming.

Hasil stood to his feet and turned to face Wyatt, covered in your blood, at the point of no return.

“You got my scraps, anyway, you fuckin’ animal.” Wyatt spat.

“You never deserved her. She never deserved what you gave her, and now… this?” Hasil’s face was the embodiment of fury, and he gripped his knife at his side.

The last thing you saw before your vision blurred and turned dark, was Hasil throwing the knife to the ground, and his tired voice as he marked Wyatt with glimpses of your premonition, something you suddenly remembered seeing in your dreams.

“No… you don’t deserve a quick death.”

————————————

You remembered how it felt to be on deaths door, and how it really didn’t feel as bad as you’d expected. You remembered seeing you parents there, waiting.

You’d cried, held them close, but you were confused when they wouldn’t let you go any further.

“It’s not your time, my love.” Your mom had said.

“We’ll still be here when your time comes.” Your dad replied. “It’s very important that you go back.”

And before you knew it, you were sinking. That falling feeling in the pit of your stomach growing quickly until you were suddenly in the medical cabin again, a sense of chaos returning.

Only you weren’t you, you were watching yourself on the bed, colourless and clammy.

Hasil was outside, trying to get in, and you so desperately wanted him to, but he was being restrained, held back, growing increasingly more stressed and angry as G’win worked on your wound and demanded he be kept away.

He was hysterical, needed to be with you, but he’d only get in the way.

You don’t remember seeing it, you were sure you weren’t present for it, but some part of you knew Wyatt was gone, and that there had been a few casualties alongside him.

What you didn’t know was how it happened, or that Hasil had killed Wyatt with his bare hands.

How he’d bare knuckle fought him to the ground, adrenaline pumping through him to the point he was blinded by it, and he snapped Wyatt’s neck.

A gun fight between the Losties and the clan had ensued, but ultimately the Losties had backed down, deeming it not worth any further loss.

Only Hasil swore that if you died, he’d never let those involved rest, and there would be further blood shed, because without you, there was no point to him anymore.

Hasil didn’t know what to do with himself, he felt sick to the stomach not knowing if you’d make it and that he’d been the one to put you in that position.

His knuckles bled, his body ached, but he didn’t care about any of that. Not while you lay there, without him, unsure if you’d even make it. Did you know he was there? That he was trying? Did you remember him screaming that he loved you, or were you already too far gone?

G’win had refused to let him see you, because Hasil had lost it. He couldn’t cope with seeing you like that. He’d been hysterical, and G’win needed him to leave. So now he paced, desperately praying you’d be ok, because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if you weren’t.

Impatient with waiting, Hasil stormed back towards the medical cabin, trying to shove passed the men on guard.

“Isaac, let me in.” Hasil said, his tone warning.

“You know I can’t do that cousin, Bren’in’s orders.”

“If she dies, and I’m not there with her, I will never be able to forgive you. Please? Just… think if it were Missy, what would you do?”

Isaac thought for a moment, his eyes searching Hasil’s as he thought about his predicament.

Nodding slowly, he stepped to the side, letting Hasil into the cabin.

G’win turned to look at him over her shoulder and tutted. Hasil held his hands up in surrender.

“Please… I’ve calmed down, I just… I need to be with her.” His eyes were watering, but he tried to maintain some composure.

G’win sighed, turning back to you. “Okay, I’m near finished anyway.”

Hasil quickly moved to your other side, clasping your hand in his. You were so colourless, and your breathing was shallow.

“I got the bullet out, managed to stop the bleeding some, but Hasil I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s not lookin’ good.”

Hasil pressed your knuckles to his lips, savouring the feeling as he breathed through the panic that threatened to take over him. He let a tear roll over his lash line.

“Bren’in… could I have some time alone with her, please?”

G’win nodded, “I have some others to tend to anyway, take all the time you need, cousin.”

She walked out and closed the door behind her, and Hasil let out a shaky breath, stroking your hair back.

“Oh darlin’ girl, it was never meant to be this way. I’m so sorry, I’ll never forgive myself for this.”

Hasil sniffed as tears began to stream down his face, “You can’t leave, I’m meant to run the gauntlet for you, start a family with you, show you what real happiness is…” he rubbed his face, frustrated with his show of weakness, but his heart was shattering. “If you go, I go…”

He lay his head against your arm, fingers intwined with yours.

He was silent for a while, listening to your shallow breathing, your heart beat that thudded irregularly.

“Don’t you dare.” You suddenly murmured. “Don’t you dare do… anything stupid, Hasil Farrell.”

Hasil’s head shot up, his heart racing.

Your eyes had opened just enough to look at him, and you had a small smile on your face.

Hasil let out a shaky breath and he stood, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I thought I lost you.”

“I’m not going anywhere any time soon, Hasil…”

“I’m so sorry.”

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry about… it’s my fault they even came looking in the first place.”

“I killed him, Y/N… with my bare hands, I killed him.”

You were reminded of your vision, when you stood outside of your body. You remembered dreaming about Hasil holding Wyatt’s face in his hands and snapping his neck.

You felt a twang of guilt as you thought briefly of the times when things were good between you and Wyatt, but then the memories of the bad times hit you again, far more overpowering and more frequent than any good times you’d had, and you felt a sense of relief wash across your body as you looked into Hasil’s gentle blue eyes, love warming your sore body once more.

“Good.”

——————————

- Final Part Coming Soon -

Taglist:

[lustkillers]

Would love to see some content for Simon from Dinner in America or Colin Gray, you’re more than welcome to pick the subject matter, preferably female reader

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ . i owe you a black eye and two kisses.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - oh, how he's missed his girl during his time away.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - simon / john q x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw freaky deaky time!! hard?dom simon, sub!reader, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP.), p in v, car sex (in a volkswagen beetle...), public sex, STOMACH BULGE!!! facial, throat fucking-ish, degradation—but also praise, cowgirl position, overstimulation, hair pulling, very cutesy fic... (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - back from the dead (laziness) and kicking it!! i hope i did this request justice as i haven’t written in so long… WHOOPS. its been literally ages since i wrote smut so i apologize if i’m rusty as hell doing this… PLEASE FORGIVE ME. anywho… LUSTKILLERS IS SO BACK BABY 🙂‍↕️

requests are open! <3

THE night was cold and you couldn't be more bored out of your mind. the windows of your red volkswagen beetle were down, the distinctive smell of the car gas filling the air around you. your leg bounced, the keys that consisted of plenty of keychain accessories clinking against each other, and your eyes traced over the rusty, tall fence that you probably counted all the diamond-shaped holes between each steel bar. how long have you been here? an hour? hour too early?

at the rate of biting at your own cheek unconsciously, there was probably a dent that was left inside your cheek from how much you've bit down on it. turning your palms over was a nightmare; your hands glistening with sweat from anticipation. you wanted to look the best. you wanted everything to be perfect.

you couldn't even remember how he ended up here; maybe you blocked it out. slightly tragic on your end, watching as your boyfriend was cuffed and put into the back of a cop car, the last thing you experienced together was your fingers loosely holding a cigarette for him. that feeling left you empty... and a bit sexually frustrated, due to the fact that he had promised to fuck you real good after his performance.

a masculine silhouette stood at the goddamned fence that you loathed, your eyes shooting up at the whirring sound of the mechanical fence sliding to the right, leaving the figure to leave. you let go of the cigarettes that laid in the cupholder, your slippery hands moving to unlock your car.

with a frustrated yell, you quickly wiped your hands on the seats on your car, restoring the dryness that easily helped you unlock your god forsaken car. you opened the door, ducking under the slight top ledge that you've hit your head on plenty of times. you were giddy like a child receiving their gifts on their birthday– squealing as you shut the door behind you and stood in front of the driver's side door, bouncing on the tips of your toes, and a smile spread across your face.

simon had that stupid smirk on his face, scruff all over his face, and his hair slightly grown out from the last time you saw him. he also had the same clothes on from the last time, the green jacket and black pants with the boots. it felt like the first time all over again, and god, that outfit made your pussy throb, and your knees were moments away from bucking and landing onto the dirt ground.

"didn't i tell you to get rid of that goddamn car? looks stupid, the ladybug print and all." simon said gruffly, a slight smirk creeping onto the corners of with lips, his siren-like eyes peering down at you.

you looked up at him with a slight pout and doe eyes, "i think it looks cute." you mumbled in defense. his eyes gleamed with a predatory look on you. cute, he thought. but what left his lips was just a mere scoff, his smirk turning into a smile... which was still somehow intimidating if you think about it.

"looks like a kiddie car, that's what it looks like." he taunted, making you playfully roll your eyes.

you huff, "i'm gonna punch you in the face... leave a black eye while i'm at it." your voice taunting, yet not really sincere. he only chuckled in response, "c'mere." he moved towards you, his lips swinging down to kiss yours, kissing away the pout that now disappeared.

his rough, big hands wandered towards your ass, gripping it with no intent of letting go. simon's kisses were one of a man deprived of lust and yearning, and he wasn't planning to let your breathe for air. his hands roamed around your backside, his feet pushing you back towards the silly-looking car, his right hand pulling at the door handle, swinging the door open.

simon's eyes opened from the kiss, his frustration growing from the lack of the backdoors your car had. he let out a groan, his lips unlatching from yours, his jaw clenching as he softly moved you aside, bringing the drivers seat forward so you two could hop in the back. his pants strained against his bulge, and the whine that left your lips made it even worse.

"give me a moment doll, your car is pissing me off." he grumbled, watching his head as he hopped into the small car, with you behind him, closing the door. he was sitting with his legs spread, you in front of him with little to no space at all, on your knees, which were already feeling rough from the material of the bottom the car.

you and simon made no time to push down your pants, his hands unbuckling the shiny belt that clinked once it unfastened from his waist, and your hands helped slide them down, his thick, long cock springing free, and you could've sworn your eye twitched at the sight. with the way he looked down at you and the non-existent space you left between your face and his cock, the feeling between your thighs released itself like a flood; your thighs pressing together in instinct.

"god, if you don't hurry it up, i might take matters into my own hands." he groaned out, swallowing dryly as his hands gripped at your hair; making you squeak out a quick 'sorry,' and your tongue quickly laid flat against the side of his cock; a hiss escaping simon's pretty lips. "fuck," he groaned.

you worked your way around his cock, your head bobbing up and down, trying your best to keep eye-contact with him as you bobbed. spit drooled down the sides of your mouth; the liquid pooling at the base of his cock, slowly sliding down his strained balls; the sounds of his grunts and low groans filling the small car.

he felt your right hand shift towards your sopping pussy; mewls leaving your lips as you rubbed your clit, heightening your senses, but also making you focus less on working his cock. simon noticed it, his grip on your hair turning into a makeshift lever, the control reeling to him as he started to guide your head up and down, his cock spearing at the back of your throat, hitting past the uvula. the feeling made you gag, spluttering more spit around his cock, the sight being messy as ever. he pulled your head from his cock, your right hand leaving your clit in response, and as your lips left his cock, it making you gasp out in air; your eyes watering from the intense throat-fuck that was definitely going to leave you sore, along with your poor legs that were soon to fall victim to his fucking.

"si, give me a moment–" you squealed, making simon laugh as he pulled you up onto his lap, laughter leaving from both your lips. "tryna get me put in jail again, doll? fuckin' in front of the prison i just got out of?" he smirked, his forehead touching yours.

"not my fault, si– oh!" you hum in response, which quickly turned into a gasp– which finally turned into a moan, his cock knowingly filling your tight walls. his hips piston upwards, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt. his hands held at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock, creating a white, creamy ring around the base.

the car windows immediately fogged up, heat and sweat glistening on both your bodies, the occasional cocky laugh simon let out settled into your ears, making you shiver. your hips worked at a sensual speed, grinding and bouncing, alternating between the two, moans spilling from your lips.

his lips shut your moans up for a bit, before pulling away and murmuring, "so pretty bouncing on my cock, like the slut you are." he smiled against your shoulder, placing a kiss against it as he looked at you, babbling and panting. "feel that?" he whispered, pressing down on the bulge his cock made in your stomach, immediately making you start to crumble.

you looked at him, your hips started to falter and grow slower, your legs tired and your thighs shaking as the pressure built up, waiting to burst out. but you tried to keep your pace going, your hands on his chest as you whimpered.

your lips tried to form a sentence, only letting out broken words. "c–cum... i needa– hmph!" you cry out, feeling the vibrations of simon's chuckle. "can i–?" you whimpered, moments away from crying in frustration.

his lips captured yours once again, making you come undone. you came around his cock, clenching as your thighs tried to close at the feeling; high-pitched moans leaving your lips as you were sent into a fruitful bliss. "haah–! t-thank you, si!" you sigh, your hips stuttering, still lazily grinding, praying to god that simon finds his release, or you'd probably lose it.

simon groaned, nearing his release as he fucks up into you, your overstimulated pussy weeping and soaking. "m'gonna cum," he exhaled, and at his words– he came, but he planned to cum on your face, his hands making quick–but safe work, one shot of cum shooting inside your cunt, and when you blink, you're already on your knees, hot spurts of his warm cum hitting your face, your eyes closing. he let out a hoarse breath, "that was fuckin' tits," he laughed, hunched over. his cock started to soften, his hands making quick work and grabbed the cigarette pack and paper towel that sat inside the cup holder. he ripped a piece of paper towel, wiping your face... decently clean, but it was the effort that counted.

your eyes fluttered open to look at him, a smirk on his face as a lit cigarette hung from his lips, his rough hands cupping your face and stroking his thumb across your fucked-out cheeks. "you're one of a kind, y'know that?" he let out a sigh, fixing your clothes back on you, and pulling you up to straddle him again sharing a kiss, which tasted like cigarettes, but you didn't mind. you never had a problem with him and he never had a problem with you. the world revolved around you both and nobody else. his eyes twinkled at the sight of your eyes, and his face softened.

"ditto." you whispered, smiling.

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

♱ 18+ smut !! ♱

thinking about smoking with simon while u ride him ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ

♱⋰ ⋱✮ he’s convinced he’s corrupted you, turned you into some ‘cockdrunk stoner’, shaking his head at your insistent whines in his annoyingly clothed lap.

“you can’t get what you want all the fuckin’ time.” he griped, stilling your hips that seemed to have a mind of their own. of course he was a hypocrite, still-lit blunt gripped between his fingers pressing into your sides.

“why not?” you pouted, using the hands planted on his chest to lift yourself up and back down again, intent on torturing him just as much as he was you. he could be mean — deny you completely just so you’d really beg him for it, even make you get yourself off on his thigh without any help while he watches, but he couldn’t deny the effect you had on him; currently prevalent in his tightening jeans. he took another drag before grabbing your jaw, exhaling warm smoke into your mouth as your eyes closed.

soon enough you’re grinding on his dick — just lazily rocking your hips while he watches you. you take the blunt from his hand before he gets ash all over the couch, turning it towards him after tapping it against the glass tray on the table next to you, holding it for him so he can keep his hands gripped tight on your waist. your pace only gets more lax as you get higher, a loud smack to your ass reopening your eyes for you.

“c’mon ride it like you mean it. attagirl.”

˚₊‧꒰𓆩 ♱ 𓆪꒱ ‧₊˚

[nobitchs-world]

What people think I mean when I say I like white boys:

What I actually mean:

[hellfirecvnt]

Don't Piss me Off (Pt. 2)

John Q. (Simon) X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, oral (female receiving), "public" sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), poor life choices.

Summary: You still can't stand sticking around your parents for too long, but you stay in town for a while longer just to see him play. PART ONE IS HERE!!

Notes: I love him. I'm gonna write a million versions of the same story I stg. I didn't proof read. I got like 6 ideas at once and they're all getting written at the same time.

In the basement of a warehouse you'd assume abandoned, Simon and his band consisting of a handful of less ill-tempered, but just as dirty and dead-looking men set up for their performance. They're all spitting insults at each other as they scramble to plug in each meticulous piece of shoddy equipment they've acquired.

Simon's preoccupied. Clearly stuck on the thought of you. He realized hours ago that he never told you about the show tonight. He's wrapping the wire of the mic around his fist when he overhears the stagehands. "I didn't make it to Y/N's last party, I figured there would at least be one more before she bolted."

"She went back home?" Simon interrupts.

"Yeah, man. She left today, I'm pretty sure." The stagehands hoist a large amp to its spot, leaving Simon in the silence of realizing you two have no way of contacting each other. That's it. He shrugs his shoulders, brushing off any disappointment, as he's used to things falling through. Nothing's special to someone like him, or that's what he tells himself. He reaches into his back pocket and reveals a pair of underwear that had gotten tangled with his clothes when you did his laundry. He chuckles at the thought of how he would've made you think he stole them on purpose. He stuffs them back into his pocket and gets ready to perform as people start piling in the small venue.

You're nearly flooring it back to that gas station. Once inside, you leap over the counter and snatch the poster from the wall. "God damn! You could've just asked for the fucking flyer, man!" The cashier exclaims, certain you were attempting to rob the store.

"I don't have time!" You yell behind you as you sprint out the door. "Old fuckin' Mill building? Where the fuck is that?" You mumble to yourself, frustrated. You read that Psyops isn't set to play for another 30 minutes, so you speed around town to every old and decrepit site you can find. Four failures before you find the warehouse hosting the show tonight. "Finally!" You slam the van in park before bolting to the door.

"It's $10 to get in," a nonchalant man at the door huffs. You shove the money into his hand and he opens the large, black, graffitied door behind him. You're not shy in a crowd, so when you hear the boisterous speakers blasting the sound of guitar riffs through the building, you start shoving. The vibration sends the decently sized crowd into a wave of cheers and you finally make your way toward the front. You can hear a voice over the speakers, Simon. It's hard to make out what he's saying, but once the song starts, the crowd starts moving.

You're being jostled around for most of the set. Song after song, you try to force yourself to the front, but to no avail. Finally, once Simon takes one step off the slightly raised platform on which they're performing, you can reach him. His grip is white-knuckled around the microphone, now's your chance. You lunge forward and wrap a hand around the mic, pulling yourself forward. Confused and annoyed by the sudden tugging, Simon pulls back, effectively breaking through the wall of people blocking you. The moment your eyes meet his, under his ski mask, he grins. In the moment bringing you before him, he'd missed a few bars of the song, but effortlessly picks back up once you're front and center.

It feels like his eyes are locked on you for the rest of their set. You hate to admit it, but it's a hell of a show. The energy of the crowd, their presence on stage. No wonder Simon feels so strongly about it. He's a different person when he's John Q. An alias you found out about when you were seniors, and you hoped staying quiet about it would've shown him you weren't the snitch, but instead it took a coke bender several, several years later. Plus, he wasn't much less of a loser than you were. Who fucking cared back then that he has a stage name?

After Psyops' set, you and Simon slip outside for a smoke. Riled up from the show, he's too abuzz to make sure his face matches the angry stare he usually wears. "Someone said you were headed home already, didn't think I'd see you at a show any time soon," he says, lighting a cigarette.

"Said I would," you echo his words from his promise to back you up next time you got yourself into an altercation. "Can't let fucking John Q. be more trustworthy than me." Simon laughs at the mention of his stage persona. "I like the mask, though."

"Oh, yeah? That do somethin' for you?" He teases, reaching into his pocket for the mask, but pulling out a different wad of fabric. "Oops," he laughs, dangling your panties in front of you.

"Is that my fuckin' underwear, you god damn pervert?" You curl your lip, put off by the invasive behavior.

"They might be yours, I don't know. I get a lot pussy." Simon smirks with his eyes darkened on you.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck-" you're ready to lay into him, too violated to make any excuses despite how attractive he looks with messy hair and drying sweat.

"Calm the fuck down, they got mixed up with my shit when you washed my clothes at your house," he laughs. You roll your eyes and jump to grab them, but he's too quick. You miss the swipe and are now a great deal closer to him. "I'm gonna hold on to these," he says with a low voice as he scoops you against him with a hand placed on the small of your back. A second passes like an eternity and the two of you lock lips as he stuffs your underwear into his pocket again, allowing some of the silk and lace detail to hang out. As the kiss deepens, his hands move down your body, to your thighs before he grips your ass roughly. Soft moans escape against his lips as he gropes various parts of your curves.

"Do you know how worked up you get me?" He whispers between the press of your kiss. "Thought you left before I could get a taste." He reaches for your eyelet belt, but you stop him.

"Someone's gonna see us."

"Call it an encore," he mumbles before going back at your belt, but you swat him away again.

"At least take me around back, dumbass." You grab a fistful of his shirt and nearly drag him around the corner. It's dark and concealed from any passerby. He lifts you up onto a pad-mounted transformer and wraps your legs around him, still moving his head in sync with yours as each of your tongues explore each other's mouths.

"I guess I was kind of a prick to you back in the day, huh?" He whispers, running his hand through your hair.

"You were an angry piece of shit, yeah. We fuckin' or having a breakthrough?"

"Shut the fuck up for a second," he snaps. "I'm trying to apologize." He slips your denim shorts off your legs and all but falls to his knees in front of the large metal, green box you're sat on. His nimble index finger hooks around your thong and pulls it to the side. You barely have time to process what his "apology" will be before he plunges his head between your thighs. You fight to stifle a surprised moan as he conducts his skillful movements against your sensitive skin.

"Simon, oh, my God!" You whine, arching your back against the friction. He laughs against your skin sending waves of vibrations through your legs. One of his hands is occupied holding your panties to the side, the other is hooked around your hip, holding you securely in place as he meticulously works you over the edge.

"You want me to stop?" He asks, lips framed with drenched facial hair.

"No! No, I-" he cuts off your plea, resuming his position.

"Then stop fighting me," he snaps, harshly pinning you to the metal with the hand he had hooked on your hip. The stimulation quickly builds up, becoming too much, too quickly. You throw your head back and tangle a fist in his hair as he guides you through the high. Your legs shake and threaten to close around him, but his grip is too strong. You remain exactly where he wants you until you've ridden out your orgasm. You're slumped back on your elbows with your head down, breathing heavily as you return to reality.

Simon towers over you where you lay, staring down at you with his dark-circled eyes. You look up and watch him teasingly wipe his mouth, licking his lips like you're the first thing he's devoured in months. He slips your shorts halfway up your legs for you, leaving the rest of the work for whenever you can feel your legs again. "Um," you sigh. "Apology accepted."

"Tits."

"Is 'tits' good?" You furrow your eyebrows. He sighs, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

"You're leaving tonight, huh?" Simon lights a cigarette.

"Well... That's the plan." You feel a pit in your stomach when you think about going back home. The place is nice, it's far away. It's what you wanted, but life is full and meaningless. You don't have friends out there, it didn't strike you how hard it'd be to meet people in your mid 20s.

"You don't sound so sure about that plan, Y/N." He exhales a cloud that illuminates under the street lamp's orange glow.

"It's boring out there, but it's quiet. It's peaceful. My parents aren't in my ear telling me trying something new could kill me." You shrug.

"That's why you're running? Because of your frigid bitch mom and dad?" Simon laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever heard.

"Okay, well. You know, maybe don't call them that or I'll lay you the fuck out, but yeah." You stand and fasten your shorts and belt, knees still threatening to buckle. "You had a hand in me leaving too."

"I know, I apologized!" He gestures to your trembling legs and you laugh.

"Yeah, yeah," you wave your hand at him. "Where'd you go? I was in town for weeks. I thought you were in the pin."

"I didn't want to overstay my welcome," he chuckles. "Or watch another fuckin' 80s movie with the volume on ten." He turns to look at you and he smirks.

"Well, my parents are in town now. I still have the rest of this week off. I was gonna spend it getting unpacked, but-"

"Fuck that. Let's go, you're driving." He walks off around the building toward the parking lot and you're dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course I'm driving, it's my van!" You scramble after him. He hops in your passenger seat and you pull out of the lot, leaving his disgruntled band mates to pack up their own equipment. "You're not gonna help them?"

"What for? My shit's in the van. It's a microphone."

"Yeesh, sorry. Forgot you're actually kind of the worst when your head's not between my legs," you tease and Simon can't suppress a smile. As you cruise down the dark road, bright blue lights ignite in your mirrors. "Fuck. Get it the back." Simon wastes no time, he throws himself in the spacious rear area of the van as you pull over. You both wait anxiously for the cop to approach the window. Everything feels silent, until you finally hear the footsteps.

"I'm gonna run," Simon whispers, hand on the rear door latch.

"Don't." You demand sharply, rolling down your window for the cop. The air feels still and tight. It seems like it takes hours for the cop to speak, but when he does it's a routine traffic stop. He asks you if you knew how fast you were going and you innocently explain the floating nature of your speedometer. The officer laughs when he reads your ID and sees your last name.

"You're Frank's kid, right?"

"Yeah, his one and only." You beam, proudly. Happy to name drop your wealthy family.

"You just try to slow it down and tell your dad I said hello, alright?" The cop taps your door twice and sends you on your way. As you pull off, Simon peeks out from under the blankets and sighs with relief.

"Holy shit, with the way this thing looks, you should've been strip searched." Simon tosses himself back into the passenger seat.

"Don't shit-talk my van," you hiss. Simon proceeds to tell you where to go, each turn and shortcut, until you reach a large white house, almost as status defining as your parents'.

"My parents are out of town." He points to a concealed area to park and leads you to a basement door. He fights with a key for a moment before leading you inside. It's a messy basement room with red walls and posters from ceiling to floor. Instruments take up most of the space, aside from the bed.

"Do you avoid your parents like me, or do your parents avoid you?" You ask, bluntly, not considering the weight of that question.

"Both, I guess." He says after a long pause.

"You... Wanna smoke?" You ask, unsure how to navigate the silence.

"Can't. Fucks with my motivation," he grins. You shrug, rolling and smoking a joint by yourself while Simon works on some songs. He's got an ear for every instrument in his room, and he layers them over each other, creating complex instrumentals. It's nice to listen to while you lie on his bed and watch the swirling tendrils of smoke twist into the light and air above you.

"It sounds nice," you hum, settling into the cozy divot in the center of his mattress-on-the-floor.

"Write something for it," he commands, tossing a notepad and pen at you.

"Like lyrics? Why?" You stare at the blank page, unable to read the layers and layers of writing indented into it from Simon's heavy, angry hand.

"You need an out, I'm giving you one." He leans back in the rolling chair he resides in, staring me down like a hawk.

"I don't think I'm a very musical person. I think I'm more of a doodler, really," you argue, scribbling in the corner of the paper.

"Just fuckin' write something down and stop being a pussy." He snatches the pen from you and tosses it onto the pad.

"Bitch- How does that make me a pussy?" Your eyes narrow at him.

"It'd be too vulnerable. You're no tougher than that kid you were in high school. It's all fake now." It's clear he's taunting you. Making a fair attempt at reverse psychology.

"Fuck you, give me a minute," you huff, writing a line or two to start with. "Play your shit again." And he does. Restarting the instrumental he put together just for you. After a while, you've written something and you sling the notepad at Simon. He takes a moment to read through it a few times, almost trying to decode the melody of how I'd sang it in my head.

"Perfect. Now sing it." He nods toward his microphone stand.

"Fuck's sake, dude. Are you serious?" You whine, pushed further and further out of your comfort zone.

"Come on, let's see what you got," he says in a tone that lets me know I've already lost the argument.

"It doesn't feel good to be vulnerable to you."

"Tough it out." You roll your eyes at his demand, but you do it. You tough it out and recite your song over the music he provided. He hits 'restart,' and then 'record,' and then he points to you. After a measure you begin to sing. Low effort, but still angelic. Your song is about the feeling of being homesick no matter where you end up. It's about running and putting up a face as a defense mechanism. It's about wearing a mask.

When you're done singing and the music fades out, Simon slides the headphones off his ears. "That... Was tits." He looks elated. Like a poor painter with a new pallet.

"Is 'tits' good?" You ask again, emphasizing the lack of answer last time you asked.

"Yeah, 'tits' is good." He grins. "That was good."

"Fuck you. Who's not vulnerable?" You curl your lip, clearly more moved by the challenge than the release he was offering. Simon just shakes his head.

"Let's mix it." He beelines for the computer and begins fine tuning the song. You're watching in awe of his quick skill at this craft. As if watching him play all those instruments wasn't impressive enough. The night grows older. Simon offers you your favorite party favor, but you're over it. So the two of you share a joint.

"You don't ever get tired of living in a circle?" You ask through a cloud of smoke.

"A fuckin' circle?" He looks at you.

"Just, still in this town, still avoiding your parents, still making music alone in your room."

"Fuck," he huffs, offended but acknowledging the truth in your words. "Do you ever get tired of running from it?"

"Touché." You bring the joint to your lips as you lie in his disheveled bed. His arm snaked around you ages ago, slowly pulling you closer and closer to him. Like he's worried you'll float away.

"If our only two options are run away or get sucked into this shit hole of a town, I think we're a little fucked, don't you?" He chuckles to himself.

"Maybe those aren't the only options. We just don't have all the answers yet. I don't think anyone does." Your voice is wistful and quiet. You can feel Simon's eyes on you, but you stare at his dark ceiling. He rolls his eyes at your corny words, but he knows you're right. "It's funny, because if I could run from the uncertainty too, I would." You giggle, aware of your vices and poor coping skills.

"Yeah, you would," Simon mocks.

"And you? You're just going to live with it? Sit right beside the discomfort and accept that for yourself? Have you ever tried to give yourself more, even if it meant running?" You're slowly building up a sense of passion behind your words and Simon just listens, staring deeply into your eyes as you speak. Suddenly, you're cut off when he wraps a hand around the back of your head and pulls you into a kiss. His lips crash into yours and the two of you melt into each other.

You can't even remember what you were saying, you just know you don't want to stop touching him. The heat of the kiss begins to swell as Simon's hands trail up and down your body. He's grabbing at you in a specific order, like he's been waiting to get his hands on it. Really get his hands on it. You grasp at the hem of his shirt, tugging in semblance to take it the fuck off, and he does.

His broad, pale chest rises and falls with anticipation as you strip off the same article of clothing. "Jesus Christ," he moans, pulling you to him to shove his face directly between your breasts. He breathes deeply, taking you in. With one swift motion, he's hoisted you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. Simon unfastens the button on your jeans before tossing you to the side to undress you.

You're both naked and greatly anticipating the next moment your skin will touch. Seconds feel like hours until you're pressed against each other again. Simon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he guides his throbbing erection to your entrance. You're squirming and arching beneath him, and he releases a breathy laugh as he watches you writhe. "You're aching for it," he groans.

"Fuck you," you hiss, pulling him closer to you by his shoulders. All he does is chuckle before slowly slipping inside you. You moan loudly as you adjust to his size. Something about a lanky, dead-eyed man. His pace is steady as he rocks his hips against yours, picking up speed as you gush around him. Soon his thrusts are hard and rough, and your loud, vulgar moans echo off his bedroom walls.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he huffs, pulling out of you and tossing you aside. Simon quickly repositions you in front of him, on all fours. You let your back arch naturally, putting on a bit of a show for him as he watches you. His eyes are darkened and his smirk sends chills down your spine. You can't help but smile wide in excitement. With two round hands, he grabs your waist and positions you at the perfect height. His hands wander the soft flesh of your ass as you press up against him. "You drive me fucking crazy..." He sighs as he slips inside you.

Simon digs the tips of his fingers into your skin, pulling you against him with every violent thrust. You do everything you can to contort your body to give him more of you. He throws his head back, falling into a sloppy, unsteady pace. His breathing is wild and primal all the way up until the point of climax. You release a loud, fluttering moan as he fucks you through your high, quickly withdrawing to finish on your back and ass. You're both breathless for a while, the room is silent but for the sound of your lungs filling and deflating.

Simon climbs off the bed, but you're too fucked out to even raise your head up to watch where he's going. Moments later, he returns, towel in hand. He cleans you up and lands a hard smack on your right ass cheek. The sound is thunderous against the silence. You yelp and break into quiet chuckles.

Finally, you have the strength to roll over. You sit up against the mess of pillows that became a sort of headboard for his bed, feeling beautiful and bare before him. It's a nice feeling that you're not used to. Sure you've had your flings, but it's never occurred to you how quickly you tend to leave or cover up after. Not this time. You're both fully exposed and Simon's eyes drink you in, one last time before he speaks. "Don't go back." You stare at him for a long while, silent.

"I won't," you gasp, surprised by your own promise. As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips are on yours. In the next few days, you quit your job and Simon rides with you to go back and get the most important of your shit. The rest goes with the trailer when you sell it. You don't run a single thing past your parents and you don't tell them you're coming back to town. It's a new sense of peace and adventure, though it feels like abandoning your old life.

After a month of van living, you and Simon get an apartment and constantly receive complaints about the noise, but nothing stops the music overflowing from your floor of the building. A new sense of bliss. It's comfortable now.

[g4yforethan]

don't smile

pairing: joel x male!reader

summary: joel does his best to relax reader after a terrifying event

warnings: cursing, violence, mention of hallucinat!ons, top!joel, bottom!reader

a/n: saw smile 1 and 2 and i'm obsessed with kyle gallner now he is sooo fine omfg

you knocked on his door waiting for him to open it. you knocked again and again when he finally did. "y/n. what's up? it's almost 1 in the morning." you stayed silent and hugged him as he wrapped his arms around you even tighter. "come in. sit down baby boy." he whispered in your ear as he shut the door. you sat down and massaged your head as he rubbed your back. "im sorry for barging in on you like this. i've just been having a really weird day and i needed someone to talk to. someone i can trust." you tearfully confessed. "i'm here baby i promise. what's been happening though?" joel asked you as he kissed your head. "i've just been noticing a pattern. like everyone is just...smiling at me. i know it sounds weird or like i'm hallucinating but it feels so real. i'm scared joel." you felt your heart beat go up.

"jesus. i'm sorry you're dealing with this shit y/n. what can i do to make you feel better?" joel got even closer held you in his arms as you cried. you laid your head on his chest as you gathered the courage to talk. "i don't know. i was kinda thinking if... i could stay the night with you." you slowly whispered. "of course baby boy. you know i love having you around." you looked up and kissed his soft lips. "god i missed you. feels like we haven't been together in so long." you said. "god i know. feels like we haven't fucked in so long." joel replied as you laughed and looked at him. "it has been a while huh? you missed fucking my ass?" you asked as joel gripped your butt. "haha what do you think pretty boy?" he grinnned. "you know being here is making me feel so much better. kinda feeling like getting fucked right now too." you grinned at joel as he picked you up and laid you down on his bed.

joel took his shirt off and started kissing your neck and unzipped your jeans. you turned over and pulled his pants down and massaged his bulge. "fucking use my dick baby. it's all yours." he moaned as you stopped teasing him and put his thick white cock inside your mouth. he used your head and shoved his dick down your throat. "god i wanna feel you inside me joel." you begged and joel listened as he flipped you around and gripped your waist. he spit on his hand before slowly entering your tight hole. "fuck i love how your hole grips the shit outta my dick baby." he moaned and pushed himself inside you even harder. he smacked your ass cheeks and pulled you by your hair. "fuck right there daddy." joel loved hearing you moan in his ear. "yeah you missed this fucking dick didn't you?" he whispered. "fuck yeah i want it all in me baby." you replied.

"fucking ride me baby." joel said as he stopped and laid on his back placing you on top of him. you massaged his chest as you entered him and rolled your eyes back in pleasure. joel enjoyed watching you moan as you took his dick and jerked you off while you rode him. "fuck joel i fucking love you." you yelled as he sucked your dick while you continued boucning up and down on his cock. "you gon make me cum baby boy." joel moaned. you stopped and thought of another idea. you laid on the edge of the bed and told joel to shove his cock in your mouth. joel moaned as he fucked your face and came inside your mouth. you jerked off and came at the sound of his own moans. "that dick make you feel better about today baby boy?" joel asked as you laid on his bare back. "that dick can do miracles to anyone joel. that's for fucking sure." you replied and joel laughed as you fell asleep in his arms.

[blackdollette]

‎‎ㅤㅤ‎‎ㅤㅤㅤ꒰ ៹ . THE MOST WONDERFUL

TIME OF THE YEAR...

CONTENTS! : 11 days of hardcore smut. you have been warned.

WARNINGS! : 18+ content, intensity will vary

AUTHOR'S NOTE! : AHHH IT'S THE BEST MONTH OF THE YEAR!!! i have so much planned for this month and cannot wait to take you all on this ride with me! characters will not be specified until the fic is posted, meaning that there will be no taglist this year. buckle up and have fun!

જ⁀➴ 10.01 - public sex: spencer reid

-two workers, one office, zero self control.

જ⁀➴ 10.04 - overstimlation: billy loomis

-just one more climax wouldn't hurt.

જ⁀➴ 10.07 - cockwarming: jj maybank

-just the tip, right?

જ⁀➴ 10.10 - double penetration: rafe cameron.

-filled to the brim.

જ⁀➴ 10.13 - masturbation / phone sex.

-only one phone call away.

જ⁀➴ 10.16 - forced submission.

-helpless under your control.

જ⁀➴ 10.19 - hate sex.

-forbidden copulation.

જ⁀➴ 10.22 - virginity loss.

-it starts with a kiss.

જ⁀➴ 10.25 - car sex.

-baby making in the backseat.

જ⁀➴ 10.28 - cyber sex.

-lights, camera, action.

જ⁀➴ 10.31 - the grand finale...

-ending the season with a bang.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ property of ©blackdollette.

[dollessence]

hii! would you write smut for john q/simon from dinner in america? thanks🫶

A Track Called Desire

sub!john q x f!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v, no protection, cumming inside, slight choking, sub john q!!, slapping, permission to cum, reader has a vagina.

You first met Simon, the lead singer of the band Psyops, at a show in the city months ago. You'd been standing in the back, nodding to the reckless riffs and energy-poring off the stage. He was magnetic, a sensual tension pulling you toward the man in a ski mask and ripped jeans. His scowl could cut glass. You never thought you would see him again, let alone in your town.

Yet here he is, slouched behind the counter at Vinyl Frontier, flipping through an old, dog-eared magazine with the same signature scowl and a cigarette dangling dangerously from the corner of his mouth. You're not even sure why you're here — boredom, maybe? — but the sight of him standing there made your pulse race in a way you've never felt before.

You browse the punk section, dragging your fingers along the worn-out spines of the albums you've seen a hundred times. You can feel his eyes burning through the back of your head, sharp and assessing, as you pull out a Psyops record you hear a low voice cutting through the low hum of the store's speakers behind you.

"Shitty record you got there"

You glance up at the rugged man, arching an eyebrow, "Yeah? heard the lead singer is a real pain in the ass." still shuffling through the records.

"You don't know half of it," he gives you a slight smirk while tapping his cigarette ash onto the dirty floor. "The name's Simon, if you have any questions, give me a holler."

It's a strange type of banter, easy but charged, you're not sure if he's flirting or just being an asshole — maybe both. Either way, something about it makes your knees buckle. Over the next few weeks, you'll find excuses to stop by the store, somehow, Simon is always there. He starts leaving you snarky album recommendations on sticky notes — "Try this if you hate yourself." "Not as good as you think." you always fire back with snarky responses, and soon enough, this banter becomes your guys's thing.

One night after closing, he finds you leaning against the brick wall outside cupping the flame from your lighter in an attempt to light the cigarette hanging out the side of your mouth. "You always hang around like this?" He asks, Putting his arm against the wall and tilting his head with a smirk. He smells like smoke and cheap cologne, god you love it.

You look up at him, "Maybe I like your company." Your confidence makes him swallow thickly, a desperate look apparent on his face. "I'll see you around." You walk backward, giving him a soft wink before turning around and walking away. The tension between you two is palpable, stretching between you two like a live wire, but you won't make a move. At least not yet.

A few weeks later, you tag along with Simon to a dingy club for one of his gigs on the outskirts of town, watching him flail around with the same reckless energy that attracted your attention to him in the first place. fuck, you never knew how much you needed him until now.

After the show, he was restless and edgy, tension burning under his skin as you drove back, street lights fading into the background."You didn't have to come, Y'know?" he says, tapping his fingers against the window, his gaze fixated on the road ahead. "I know, but I wanted to."

He scoffs, but there's no bite to it. The car ride is quiet, the tension hanging thick inside the car, and as you pull up outside his place, he doesn't get out right away. Instead, he looks towards you, his gaze heavy.

"You wanna come in?"

The air was heavy with silence for a couple seconds, you knew exactly what he was asking. "Of course," you reply with a soft smile.

Inside, his room was a mess — records scattered everywhere, empty alcohol bottles scattered on his table. He throws his jacket onto the couch as he watches you from across the room, eyes dark with something you now recognize as hunger.

You walk up to him, causing him to retreat toward his wall full of posters, "You always let strangers into your place, or am I just special?" You mutter, dark eyes locked into his.

His breath shudders, his reaction causing you to laugh to yourself, "What happened to the confident man I saw earlier, huh?" You move his face down, angling it towards yours, his hot breath on your face, desperation is a good look on him.

"What's your deal?" he asked, trying to keep his cool, but the way your fingers caressed the side of his face made his breath hitch. "My deal?" You roll your eyes, giving him a soft smirk "I don't think you want to know." you say jokingly.

Your fingers intertwined with the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him closer to you. "Try me," he says, looking down at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

Your eyes darkened as they met his, he could feel his erection straining in his pants. And before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours, his kiss rough and desperate, he melted into the kiss as your fingers tangled into his hair, slightly tugging, getting a soft moan out of him.

You push him onto the couch, climbing onto his lap, straddling him. His hands go instinctively onto your waist, but you slap them off, placing them onto the cushions. "You're always acting like you're in control," you say, tracing down his torso with your hand, stopping above his belt. "But I don't think you are, not really," you whisper into his ear as you snake your hand over his straining erection, slightly palming it.

He lets out a soft whimper, hands twitching at his sides, not knowing what to do with them. "Maybe you're right." He muttered under his breath.

Your hands sneak under his shirt, nails dragging down his chest, leaving faint red lines in their wake, he gasped, hips bucking forward in search of friction. "Then you're going to let me take care of you, okay?" you say as you press soft kisses against his neck, deliberately slow, teasing. "And you're going to do exactly as I say, like a good boy." His cock twitched under you from your praise.

"Take off your shirt for me." You order. He hastily takes off his shirt. You place soft kisses down his torso, leaving soft hickeys down his chest.

"Good boy," you cooed, and the way his body reacted — shivering beneath you, cock twitching — made you realize how much he needed this.

You unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down to his ankles. You get on your knees and look up at him, locking in his dark, watery eyes. Still looking at him, you place soft kisses over his clothed erection.

"F-fuck!" he whimpered out, bucking his hips. You pull away, and the look he gives you makes your stomach flip. "Tell me what you want." you asked, "You," he bashfully whispered, "A little louder for me," you said with a cocky tone. "You, I need you so bad it fucking hurts." You felt your core tighten as he looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes.

"Take your underwear off for me, okay?" Simon took them off at the speed of light, flicking them somewhere behind him. You grab the base of his cock and start stoking him painfully slow, gaining loud whines and whimpers from him. "F-fuck, stop teasing, will ya?" he says as bucking his hips into your hands. You reach up and slap him, "Did I say you could move? Huh?" you say as you jerk him off at a frenzied pace. His back arched off the couch, choked up, holding back his moans as his hips began to shudder, you pull away right before he could cum.

He lets out a loud, unfiltered groan and a string of curses, you hastily take off your pants and panties before straddling him, "You're going to help me get off, ok? Be a good boy for me." He quickly nods as you line up his tip with your hole, slowly sliding him into your wet gummy walls. At first, it was painful as you sunk into his length, but as a couple seconds passed, the pain quickly turned into pleasure. Simon lets out a loud groan "Shut up," you say, giving him a slap in the face as you start to bounce up and down on his cock. Simon looks pathetic beneath you, tears flowing down his cheeks, face red with desperation, he places his hands on your hips in an attempt to pull you down harder on his hard length. You wrap your fingers in his dark greasy hair and tug on it as his cock hits your g-spot, "Fuck Simon, right there." you exclaim, throwing your head back as you ride the tall, muscular, writhing man beneath you. Simon lets out a loud, unfiltered moan from the tugging sensation, you sneak one hand out of his hair to slap him with and then place it over his neck, applying little pressure.

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum soon." he whimpers out as he bucks his hips into your wet cunt, you grab his hand and place it on your clit, "Not until I get off, okay," you say sweetly, rocking your hips hastily as you feel his cock twitch inside you. As his cock hits that one sensitive spot deep in your cunt your head rocks back in ecstasy as he rubs circles onto your clit, "Simon, I'm going to cum." You moan, his pace increasing slightly, "Do you want to cum with me?" you ask sweetly "Please.. I've been a really good boy, can I please cum?" he pleads, begging for release. "Go ahead, baby, cum with me," you say as you replace his hands with yours and move his to your tits, soon enough you both reach your climax, feeling his warm cum coat your gummy walls as his cock twitches, he lets out a loud moan as he grabs your hips and fucks you down onto him. His actions gain a loud whine from you, "Simon!" you exclaim, his action being the last thing you need to unravel under him. You rest your head on his shoulder as you both come down from each other's high, cum leaking around his soft cock still placed inside your cunt.

"Are you okay?" you ask, catching your breath, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to slap you, it was in the heat of the moment," you tell him embarrassed. Simon moves your sweat-slicked hair off of your forehead, "Are you fuckin' joking? That was the best sex I've ever fuckin' had." he gives you a small smirk as he pulls you into his chest.

He places your hair behind your ear and leans in to whisper, "Trust me, you don't know how long I've been dreaming about this."

Notes: This is my first time writing smut, so I sincerely apologize if this was boring or not good! I hope you enjoyed it.

[colingrayscutie]

𝓚𝓐𝓨 𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓡𝓞 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

hi hi !! (≧∇≦) — my name is kayden , u can call me kay or KD 4 short . im 18 , luv pink & scene , and heart supes old men that r no way in my age range </3 new 2 tumblr and writing (>ω<)

𝓘𝓝𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓣𝓔𝓓 𝓘𝓝 ; KYLE GALLNER , HUGH JACKMAN , RYAN GOSLING , PEDRO PASCAL , OSCAR ISAAC , & JAKE GYLLENHAAL .

𝓐𝓜 𝓘 𝓦𝓡𝓘𝓣𝓘𝓝𝓖? ; yas butt not that gud @ writing (⇀‸↼‶) I write 4 the boyz & galz i luv , but more interested in supprting writers & luvrz !! here 4 a gud time \(∩_∩)/

♡⑅*˖•. mlist ; byf ; tagz .•˖*⑅♡

✩.･*:｡≻───── ⋆♡⋆ ─────.•*:｡✩

[toxicrecs]

self recommendations 💙

to all creators & fandoms: If you would like your self rec lists shared here, please tag me! otherwise I'm unlikely to see it. you don't have to say anything, just the @toxicrecs mention is fine. we don't have to be mutuals. last time I used a queue for this so there might be a delay.

if you haven't made a self rec list, this is your tag/invitation to make a post recommending a few of your works (writers, artists, audio, any creators).