#Winston Crooke

[moviesandmania]

THE LITTLE MERMAID The horror version has washed up! Trailer and release date

The Little Mermaid is a 2024 fantasy horror film very loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s 1837 tale of the same name. Written, directed by and co-starring Leigh Scott (Piranha Sharks; The Penny Dreadful Picture Show; The Dunwich Horror 2008; Flu Bird Horror; Transmorphers; The Hitchhiker; Dracula’s Curse; Hillside Cannibals; Exorcism: The Possession of Gail Bowers; The Beast of Bray Road;…

[geekcavepodcast]

The Little Mermaid (2024) Trailer - Film Rated R

A horror twist on the Hans Christian Anderson tale, this little mermaid has some big plans. "After archeologist Dr. Eric Prince and his students uncover an ancient pagan temple in the depths of the Caribbean, Eric falls for a mysterious woman who resembles a mermaid he and his team encountered at sea. As their relationship intensifies, she leads Eric deeper into her evil underwater world until he must choose between true love and the destruction of all humanity." (Lionsgate)

The Little Mermaid stars Mike Markoff, Jeff Denton, Samuel Selman, Sean-Michael Argo, Winston Crooke, Steven Yniguez, Manon Laurent, and Lydia Helen. Leigh Scott directs.

The Little Mermaid (2024) releases On Demand and On Digital on December 17, 2024.

[quizzicalwriter]

i really love ur writing especially with any matt dillon character <3 i feel like u improved sm with ur recent fics too (or maybe i just like the angst HAHA) but uve always been a great writer, i love how u also include canon details and like realistic details (if that makes sense) but u just r really good with expressing ur words!! id love if u wrote smut like dally bothering fem!reader working a shift at the diner or something idk nonetheless ur writing is sosososgood

Cherry

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas makes everything better after a shitty day at work, most of which had been his fault in the first place.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Pain in the ass Dallas. Make-up sex, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind words! And thank you for the request!

Word Count: 4.5k

Working at a local diner wasn't necessarily the high point of your life, working the closing shift even less so. Dealing with inebriated patrons, groups of teenagers, and the occasional male who stayed well past the hours of operation was your usual.

It was a cute thing, the diner, owned by a man who'd inherited the land from his grandfather. His wife had based the menu on her recipes, along with a few from her mother, grandmother, and so on. You'd worked there long enough to gain their trust, and if you were honest, you saw them more as your grandparents than you did your employers.

Dallas accompanied you on the busier nights, whenever he passed by and caught sight of the unruly nighttime crowd, he'd duck into the diner and give you a crooked grin before making his way over to the counter. You fed him, or gave him drinks, just as you did the remainder of the guys whenever you could get away with doing so. It was calming, and made you feel safe having your guard-dog of a boyfriend waiting by the front counter until you flipped the sign that hung on the front door.

While his presence was welcome, the attention it drew was not. Possessive streaks weren't something you prided yourself on. You trusted Dallas as anyone would their boyfriend, but you weren't blind to him either. Dallas was a man, a cocky man at that, his cockiness flared whenever a woman looked his way for longer than a second. Had he ever truly pursued someone other than yourself? No, but, you couldn't help your jealousy whenever a woman approached him with glossed lips and bright eyes.

Internally you thrived on him turning down each woman that came his way, although, much to your dismay, some women took longer to disperse than others had. Whether it was due to Dallas's charm, or their persistence, you weren't sure, nor did you have the ability to check during busy shifts, especially when a man who looked as though he'd seen conflict in the Civil War whistled from the other end of the diner.

"Miss!" He called, waving his hand higher than he had seconds ago. Truthfully, you weren't ignoring him, you'd had to run two other checks to nearby booths and had simply forgotten about him. "Miss!"

With a feigned smile, you peeled your attention from the woman all but draping herself over Dallas, her thin fingers splayed over his forearm. He smiled back at her, the sight made your stomach sour enough for you to partially crumble the bill you'd written up moments prior for the increasingly impatient man.

"Here's your bill, sir. I'm sorry for the wait, busy as all get out tonight."

Your apology was met with a gruff laugh, but he seemed to understand your plight as he followed your line of sight back toward the front counter. While he signed the bottom of the receipt, he cleared his throat, pulling your attention back to him.

"Ain't no sense in apologizin'." He responded with a lift of his hips as he retrieved his wallet from his back pocket. "I get why your attention's elsewhere."

You opened your mouth to apologize, only to be met with the raise of his hand as he placed a few dollars down on the table, enough to cover the tab and your tip. It was generous and kind enough to leave you mentally berating yourself for not having given him better service. But, you ventured by the kind, almost apologetic smile upon his face that he had been in a similar situation in his youth.

Incessant laughter bubbled from the opposing side of the diner, the noise boisterous enough to pick away at your fading patience. You pocketed the cash, inwardly begging whatever deity listening for the grace to clean up shop and kick the girl out without causing a scene.

Their conversation continued, words muffled by distance and the clatter of putting away cutlery, although you tried your damndest to overhear it all. You began your routine of cleaning up house, a wet rag over your shoulder with a bottle of cleaning solution in your left hand. As you spritzed a nearby table, her laughter kicked up a notch, yet again.

"We're closing!" You called, giving her a feigned smile as she turned her head to face you. She returned your smile, just as you had given it to her, coarse and fake. You bit at your inner cheek as she turned back to Dallas, her hand lifting to rest against his shoulder.

"Hey, we're closed!" You shouted, tone louder than before. Dallas peered at you from behind her shoulder, face a mixture of shock and amusement. You were having none of it, not her bold and brazen behavior, his cockiness - none of it. You tossed your rag toward the counter, slinging the bottle alongside it as you moved toward them.

The woman, for what it was worth, met your eyes as you approached. The sudden eye contact left you stumbling over your thoughts, but as you caught sight of her hand still lingering upon his shoulder, all sense of humility left you.

"He's taken, did you know that?" You asked as you grabbed her wrist, quickly shoving it back toward her. Her smile faltered then, her eyes flickering between you and Dallas as she backed away. "No, I suppose you didn't."

All anger you had directed toward her vanished with each step she took toward the door, instead raising and flaring at the man sitting beside you. You turned, meeting his gaze with a scowl and a shake of your head.

"Seriously, Dallas?" You asked, although you knew no response he could provide at that moment would abate the growing ache in your chest. "You're an asshole. A real - fuckin' - asshole."

Each pause was accentuated with a shove of his shoulder, jealousy seething in your mind, burning your eyes with tears you refused to let him see. You could tell from the sudden switch of emotion on his face, albeit blurred from your tears, that he hadn't meant to hurt you. His hands grabbed your forearms, holding you steady whilst simultaneously shielding himself from your jealousy-fueled tirade. You were in no mood for his touch, so you pulled away from it with a grunt.

The sooner you finished closing up shop, the sooner you'd be away from him. Those words rang in your mind as you walked away from him, repeating with each step as though it were a mantra.

It was shitty; your jealousy, his cockiness, it was a toxic mix that neither of you relished in. You had known going into your relationship with Dallas how he handled interactions with women, you knew where his loyalties were, yet some part of you continued to twist and sour with each look his way.

Maybe it was the extra shifts you'd taken at the diner, the fewer hours you were able to spend by his side, being reassured by his touch and his words. Whatever it was, you hadn't the patience to linger on it, all you wanted to do was wallow in your anger - so, you did.

"Doll!" He called, although he was met with no answer as you tossed unclean plastic menus onto the countertop. You could hear him walking toward you, swearing under his breath, yet you continued to ignore him as you snagged your house keys from underneath the counter.

"Christ's sake, I didn't say a damn thing to the broad!"

"That's not the point." You sighed, shaking your head as you spoke, fingers blindly fumbling with your keyring as you neared the front entrance. "Not the point at all, and you know it."

Once your fingers had found the key to the front door, you hastened your pace, not necessarily wishing to have an argument with Dallas in the middle of the night. Dallas, however, absolutely seemed up to the challenge. He stood behind you, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, a heavy scowl on his face as he watched you lock the place up.

"Explain it to me then." He whispered, and for a second you believed him to be apologetic. "'Cause this attitude, it ain't helpin' your cause."

And then he ruined it.

You swirled on your heel, months of pushed-aside irritation bubbling to the surface. You weren't one for confrontation, never had been, it was a sore point for you. You quickly pocketed your keys, hands gripping the middle of your jacket, tugging it snug around your middle.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" You asked. "You could've shooed her away, told her you were with someone. And yet, you- you entertain it."

The words would've rung home for anyone willing to listen, but Dallas, with his stubborn ways, only cocked his head to the side and gave you a lopsided grin.

"I'm not interested in other women." He responded, taking a step closer to you. "I can't help who talks to me, doll. I ain't entertaining anything, you know that."

Did you? Maybe, but in your jealousy-fueled haze, you refused to admit your part in the misunderstanding. He lifted his right hand from his pocket, placing it against your upper arm, thumb gently rubbing along the fabric of your jacket.

"Do you worry about me?" He asked with a duck of his head, trying to center your attention back on him. "Worry about me talkin' to other girls?"

You nodded, and instead of snickering, he pulled you forward. You thudded against his chest, the sudden move knocking a bit of wind from your lungs. His arms wrapped around you as he laughed out an apology, the sound soft, the words genuine.

"Still an asshole." You murmured, resting your cheek on his chest as your hands grasped onto the back of his jacket. You felt him nod, chin atop your head, his hands smoothing up your back.

"I know." He replied. "At least let me drive you home, alright? Even if you're pissed."

"Not pissed." You assured, leaning back from the embrace to meet his gaze. "Might have overreacted."

Dallas clicked his tongue against his teeth, eyebrows screwing together as he nodded his head back. "No," he chuckled. "I would've done the same if some guy talked to you."

The thought made you smile, not that you hadn't seen Dallas's protective side flair. You were both territorial over each other, and there was nothing necessarily wrong with that as long as the feelings were reciprocated - which they were in their entirety.

"Ever notice how empty this lot is at night?" He commented, snapping you from your mind with a gentle squeeze of your hip. "Hardly any cars pass by, somethin' I noticed after a few nights sittin' by the counter."

Dallas hadn't been wrong, not in the slightest. In truth, you would've been surprised if you'd caught anyone lingering in the parking lot after closing. Your town wasn't quiet by any means, but the diner had been built around, years of infrastructure hiding it amidst a cluster of run-down businesses.

With a hum, you leaned into his side. "Guess you're right." You replied, tilting your head back to give him a squinty-eyed smile, on account of the nearby flickering lot light.

"Could make you feel better." He whispered. "On account of earlier, or whatever."

You snickered, rolling your eyes at his blatant suggestion, yet for all its crudeness, you couldn't deny the stir you felt in your lower stomach.

"You're filthy." You chided, nudging his side with your elbow.

Dallas huffed out a laugh, his arm looping around your back. "C'mon," he urged as he began walking, leading you toward his car. "Ain't wasting the opportunity to make you feel better."

Mere moments had passed before you were both clamoring into the back of the Thunderbird, limbs bumping into limbs, soft laughter echoing inside the vehicle as Dallas reached over your middle to pull the door shut. As soon as the door had shut, your lips were on his, your hands blindly fumbling with the front of his jeans.

You'd just gotten the button undone when his hands wrapped around your wrists, pulling them back as he pulled away from your kiss. You were left pouting, the sight adorable and pitiful enough to pull a laugh from Dallas as he set your hands down in your lap.

"This is for you, not me. Let me make you feel good."

Dallas focusing his sole attention on you? On pleasing you, no less? How could you refuse? Elated laughter bubbled in your chest as his hands slid up and underneath your skirt, the fabric bunching up around your hips. You helped him with a gentle lift of your hips, allowing him to hook his fingers around the waistband of your underwear, before slinking the fabric down your legs.

"You're going to cum on my tongue." He stated, tone full of nonchalance as he tossed your underwear toward the front of the car. "And, I want you over me when you do."

"You want me to sit on your face?" You asked, lips quirking up into a smile as you bit back laughter, truly believing he was joking. "Is that what you're asking me?"

Dallas only nodded, and only then did the realization of his request register in your mind. Heat prickled at the nape of your neck, spreading forward until it encompassed your chest in a deep blush. Sensing your nerves, Dallas's thumbs rubbed gentle circles above your hip bones, his head ducking down to meet your avoidant gaze.

"Hey," he whispered. "Ain't nothin' I haven't seen before. It'll feel good, doll, promise."

So, you allowed him to help you into a position that didn't have both of you groaning in discomfort. Maneuvering into a position where you straddled his shoulders, in the back of an already narrow car, wasn't exactly the easiest to accomplish. Somehow, you both managed, mostly thanks to Dallas's hands keeping you steady as you moved over him.

The chill of his silver rings bit into your thighs, keeping you sunk in the present, hovered over him as he looked up at you from below. There was nothing other than pure, unadulterated lust pouring from his eyes, pupils blown so heavily there was only a crescent of color visible. His fingers tapped, once and then again, a nonverbal request for you to lower yourself.

So you did.

He met you halfway, tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, delving between your folds to collect your essence against his tastebuds. He wanted to savor you, that much was readily apparent by his hardened grasp on your thighs, all but cementing you atop his face. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as a plethora of broken-off moans tumbled past your lips.

You begged for him, murmuring his name between praises lost on your ears, but not his. Each word, no matter how garbled by pleasure, left his hips rutting up into the air as he circled his tongue around your clit. Your hips moved in synchrony with his tongue, adjacent swirls, and he let you. He had always favored dominance, being in control of the situation, but having you atop him had him praising every divine figure he could conjure in his lust-riddled mind.

“Dallas-“ You crooned, the noise so sweet it pulled a moan from his chest, the vibration left directly against your aching cunt. You smiled, a mixture of a laugh and moan leaving you as your hands raked through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “So good, Dal.”

With an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, he pulled away. It was for a fraction of a second, needed to slip his right hand between your thighs, but you were left whining and pouting. He tutted from between your thighs, lips, and chin glistening with your cum.

“C’mon, doll.” He whispered as his middle and ring fingers pushed inside of you, delicately curling to brush against a spot that had your thighs clamping down around him. “It'll feel good, I promise.”

His left hand squeezed your hip, guiding you just as he would if you were riding him. You unconsciously followed his guidance, sliding down onto his fingers, before raising yourself, only to repeat the motion over, and over. Lewd squelches sounded from between your thighs, your cunt dripping a mixture of cum and saliva down onto his palm.

“See?” He asked through a breathy laugh, quickly resuming his position between your thighs. “Told ‘ya I’d make you feel better.”

You wanted to berate him for his cockiness, you truly did, but the feeling of his lips encircling your clit left you breathless. If anything, any ridicule would’ve turned into a garbled mess of his name.

A groan of a laugh reverberated in Dallas’s chest, yet he never pulled away. His tongue lapped at your clit, intervals of swirls and sucks following each grunt he managed to sound out. The sounds were carnal, stoking the steadily building flame in your lower stomach. Your fingers tightened their hold on his hair, pulling him closer, yourself closer. In truth, you weren’t sure if he could breathe, but neither of you moved from where you were.

“That’s it, doll.” He rasped, words hardly audible, muffled from your cunt. You managed a sighed moan in response, your hips rolling, sliding your cunt against his tongue. His fingers thrusted into you, mimicking the tempo of his eager tongue, each lap and circle of the muscle pushing you closer to the edge.

The uptake of an octave, your head rolling back as your eyes squeezed shut; Dallas knew each instinctual move of your body by heart. His eyes stayed locked on you, memorizing the sight of you coming undone above him, riding his face like a woman starved. His free hand lifted from your hip, curving around the plush of your ass, knowing he needed a tight hold on you to keep you steady.

“Dal-“

There it was, the familiar beckon of his name. His cock strained against the confines of his boxers, tip leaking precum, smearing against the now dampened fabric. His thighs tensed as his hips rolled, desperately seeking some form of reprieve as your cunt twitched around his fingers. Instead of verbalizing his reply, he squeezed the swell of your ass, wordlessly urging you to cum.

White-hot pleasure seared your veins, unconsciously twitching your limbs, tightening your hold on his hair. Your cunt spasmed, clit throbbing against his circling tongue. You cursed under your breath, eyes squeezed shut, mind solely focused on the ecstasy overtaking your body. Dallas grounded you with slow brushes of his hand along your thigh, fingers still inside of you, lips placing gentle kisses on your oversensitive clit.

“Alright?” He asked, tone rough enough to pull a surprised laugh from you. You nodded, threading your fingers through his hair.

“More than alright.” You replied. “Way more.”

Instead of hovering over his face for another second with wobbly legs, you moved yourself back, giving Dallas enough time to situate himself upright. His hands found your hips quickly after, gently guiding you back to his lap.

In an almost instinctive move, you lowered yourself to place your lips on his. His hands slid around your back, fingers absentmindedly grabbing at the fabric of your uniform as his lips moved with yours.

You braced yourself against the rear windshield, the slick condensation gathering in the palm of your hands, smearing your fingerprints down the pane as your lips moved against his. If anyone had passed by, anyone at all, they would've gathered what you both had gotten up to.

Neither of you could bring yourself to care, not when Dallas slipped his hands underneath the back of your shirt, his fingernails scraping along the curve of your back to have you closer as he sucked your tongue.

Your lips curved into a smile at the move, the lucrative, nearly addictive slide of his tongue against your own. He knew you, knew your body and how to make it tick. Your hips rocked against his lap, causing his already hard cock to twitch and pulse against the confines of his jeans.

"You're still hard," you rasped into the kiss, "I can make you feel good, too."

He groaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his hips bucked up into you. You bit at your bottom lip as you moved your hands from the rear windshield, letting your now cool skin slide down his front, keeping your eyes locked with his as you unzipped his jeans.

His lips parted in a silent moan as your hand slipped underneath the hem of his boxers, your fingers curling around the thick base of his cock. You could feel each twitch of his cock beneath your palm, the skin slick and warm, coated in his precum. You slid your hand up, leisurely pumping him, the act enough to have him grunting out your name.

You savored each lecherous moan that fell from his lips. With a shift of your hips, you centered yourself over his thigh, rolling your hips down in tandem with each stroke of his cock. You knew you were dampening the denim, soiling it, yet all you saw reflected in Dallas's eyes was the same debauchery you held heavy in your mind.

“Fuck me.” You begged, tired of the hassle, of denying yourself the most innate of pleasures. He relented with a lift of your body, allowing his hard cock to slide along your folds, catching against you. You watched as he lowered you onto him, his cock sliding into you deliciously slow.

Thin, red lines followed his nails as they dragged up the skin of your thighs, coming to a halt at your hips where he steadied you. You could feel his cock pulse inside of you, twitching just before your cervix. You watched him with bated breath, allowing him to guide each movement of your hips, and he did so with precision.

"So tight," he murmured, eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of pure lust and concentration, as though the mere sight of you atop him would undo him if he gave into it. "So fuckin' good."

All you could muster was a moan in response, your hips rolling forward, each forward motion brushing your clit against his lower stomach. Your thighs strained, muscles burning, yet you paid them no mind in favor of the persistent push of Dallas's cock, the way his tip brushed against your g-spot with each shift of his hips.

His eyes flitted, sight torn between your breasts and the needy, desperate look in your eyes. He shifted beneath you, planting his feet against the floorboard, giving himself enough stability to thrust upward, pushing himself deeper than before.

The shift in position forced the air from your lungs, a pitiful, broken-off mess of a moan passing your parted lips as you grasped his shoulders. He whispered something to you, but whatever it was had been lost on your muddled mind in favor of the budding feeling of ecstasy coiling in your lower stomach.

"Dallas-" You whined, the urgency in your call not lost on him. He nodded, wetting his lips as he rolled his hips upward. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, smearing along your skin as well as his, coating his lower stomach in your cum.

"That's it, doll." He whispered, his left hand moving between your thighs to circle his thumb around your clit, rhythm syncing with each pump of his hips. "C'mon, cum for me."

Ecstasy coiled tight in your stomach, and with each swirl of his thumb and pump of his cock, you felt it twist tighter and tighter. Your hands moved from his shoulders, fingers threading through the back of his hair where you pulled. His mouth fell open, eyebrows lifting as an expression of shock-induced euphoria crossed his face.

So, you pulled harder, the harshness of your hold mirrored in the desperate way you fucked yourself on his cock, movements so frenzied you felt your muscles burning beneath your skin.

A deep, almost sinful moan rumbled in his chest. You swallowed it with a kiss to his lips, hands moving to his jaw as your tongue moved with his. His thumb was slick against your clit, and with a gasp of his name, your cunt spasmed around his cock.

"Fuck, that's it." He groaned, words strained as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. "Let it out, doll."

Your lips moved from his, kisses trailing down his cheek, onto his jaw, before you settled your cheek to his shoulder, simply choosing to give yourself over to the onslaught of pleasure Dallas had you wrapped up in. Dallas's hold on your hip tightened as his head fell back, his eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched as his cock twitched inside of you, each pulse filling you with his cum.

You both shared the blissful silence that came afterward, the only noises being the occasional breath and whispered praise, the brush of his hands against your skin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, words muffled by the press of his lips against your throat. "I'm sorry."

Apologies weren't common with Dallas. To his benefit, he hadn't done much to call for one, but this - this you appreciated. You nodded, leaning into his touch, his lips, with a thread of your fingers through his hair. He continued murmuring into your skin, you drank in each word, heart slowing in your chest, calming with the promises he spoke only to you.

His hand moved from your hip, thumb, and forefinger resting against your chin, tipping your head up to meet his eyes. His eyebrows were furrowed together, skin coated in a thin veneer of sweat. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip, yet his eyes never left yours.

"You're my girl." He whispered, and you nodded. "I'd never do anything to hurt you."

You placed a kiss on the pad of his thumb, the sincerity in his words causing you to smile. He smiled in return, fingers splaying against your cheek where he held you gently.

"It won't happen again, alright?"

His words were soft, the sentiment mirrored in his eyes. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He met your embrace with one of his own, wrapping his arms around the small of your back, hands gently caressing between your shoulder blades.

"Good apology, been workin' on it for a while?" You joked, placing a kiss on his jaw with a soft bout of laughter. You felt him laugh, the vibration of his chest against yours.

"Nope." He admitted, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple. "You're worth a genuine apology."

"Sap." You teased, but your tone gave way to your true feelings, how much you appreciated his honesty, his words. He caught on, but never made it known, instead choosing to reply with another kiss to your skin.

"Yeah, guess I am."

A/N: Siri, play "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley, please! No, but seriously, I finished this piece with that song on repeat. Alas, I am not dead! I won't lie, I've suffered with pretty damn bad writers block. Somehow, I finished this. I hope you all like it! Thank you for your continuous support of me and my work, I value you all more than I could ever put into words! I hope this piece makes up for my time gone, see it as an early Valentine's gift!

[callme-holly]

hii can you do handholding prompt 21 (holding hands while one is balancing on a small wall) with dally 🤍🤍

𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 [𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Dallas has always been a little rough around the edges, but there are some times when you see through the cracks 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 684 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - brief mentions of fighting and getting arrested

The sun was high in the sky, the midsummer breeze doing very little to cool the already warm air.

The street was mostly empty, the occasional car passing by, their windows rolled down, and their radios blaring, but it seemed most people were content to stay inside and avoid the heat.

Beside you walked none other than Dallas Winston, a cigarette dangling from between his lips, his arm slung lazily over your shoulders. There was a cut on his jaw, one that hadn't quite healed over during his time in the cooler, and he had several bruises littering his knuckles, none of which seemed all too new either. Dallas always did love a fight; that was something you wouldn't ever be able to change; still, that didn't mean you couldn't try.

“Why'd you do it?” you asked him, breaking away from his hold to step up onto the little wall lining the path, glancing over at your boyfriend. “Why did you bother fighting those guys in the first place? You could've just walked away." You trailed off, knowing the suggestion wasn't even worth considering.

“I told ya,” Dallas mumbled around his cigarette, his cheeks puffing slightly as he took another drag. “They deserved it, talkin' shit about us like that.”

He steps closer to the wall, reaching out to grab at your hand, steadying you as you stumble forward slightly.

“You're gonna hurt yourself, man,” he comments, poorly concealed concern in his eyes as he glances up at you. It seems he doesn't want to discuss what happened before he got hauled in, and you decide that it's probably best to just drop the topic before he snaps at you about minding your own business.

So instead, you carry on walking, Dallas' fingers laced with yours, squeezing gently. The sun feels nice on your skin, warming your face and arms, and you breathe deeply, taking in the scent of the summer air, your perfume, and the smoke from Dallas' cigarette mingling somewhere in the mix.

"You gonna let me stay the night, doll?" he asks after a moment, giving you a quick glance. He hasn't let go of your hand yet, and it seems he's entirely unaware that he's still holding it, too busy searching your face for an answer.

You look over at him for only a moment, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile at the sight of him; the light catches the blonde strands of his hair, turning them white, making him look almost angelic. But that's ridiculous—Dallas Winston is everything but angelic. One close look at him would reveal everything—all the little imperfections, the scars that marred his features and made you wince every time you saw them, the way his brow was almost always furrowed in frustration, his eyes sharp and cold, the way he was so often silent and angry, the way he could make even the most innocent action seem like anything but.

“We'll see..” You reply eventually, though you know you've already given him an answer, because you can't bring yourself to deny him anything, and he knows that all too well.

For a split second, you notice the way the corners of his lips turn up into a smile, crooked and lopsided, and you know that underneath all that toughness, there's a kid who just needs someone to care about him.

Dallas raises a brow at you, letting out an incredulous chuckle as he drops your hand, instead bringing his arm up to wind around your waist as he hauls you up and off of the wall.

“We'll see, huh?” he repeats, smirking as your arms wrap around his neck, clinging onto him as if he'd drop you at any given second. Your breath comes out in small gasps of laughter, and he leans down, bringing his lips to yours in a kiss that's both passionate and demanding. Dallas doesn't do sweet and soft; he never has, and he never will. But that's one thing you’d never change about him.

[ultravionna]

"I hate summer, I hate her crooked teeth. I hate her 1960s haircut. I hate her knobby knees. I hate her.” is dallas coded bc he’s in denial abt his feelings for y/n

hi, angel!

omg- i actually 100% agree w this. so here are some headcannons + tiny cute fics between each to tickle your fancy.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston first notices you when you’re hanging out with two-bit’s sister.

you’re sitting on the couch, laughing at something on television, and dallas leans against the doorway, arms crossed. the sound of your laughter catches him off guard—he’s never really paid attention to two-bit’s sister’s friends before. as he watches you, he can’t help but smirk, but he quickly brushes it off, thinking, It’s just a laugh, man. get a grip.

“hey, you two,” he says, trying to sound casual as he steps into the room, “what’s so funny?”

you glance over at him, still smiling, and your girl friend chimes in, “just this dumb show we’re watching, dal.”

“yeah, right,” dallas replies, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than he intended. he turns away, heading for the kitchen, but he can’t shake the sound of your laugh from his head.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston doesn’t realize it at first, but he starts looking forward to the times you come over.

one afternoon, he’s lounging in the kitchen, pretending to be uninterested as sodapop mentions you’re coming by with two-bit and his sister.

“when’s she gettin’ here?” he asks, trying to sound like he doesn’t care.

“why? you plannin’ to be somewhere else?” ponyboy teases.

“yeah, yeah, maybe,” dallas mutters, but he doesn’t go anywhere. instead, he hangs around, leaning against the counter with an apple in hand. when you finally walk through the door, his mood shifts instantly.

“hey, doll face,” he greets, his eyes flicking to you as you step into the room.

you give him a playful smile. “hey, dal.”

he watches as you join the curtis’s in the living room, telling himself he’s just sticking around to annoy the gang. but deep down, he knows it’s because he likes having you around, even if he won’t admit it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston finds himself thinking about you at random times.

he’s sitting in the curtis’s backyard, a cigarette dangling from his lips, when your face suddenly pops into his mind. he frowns, flicking the ash away, trying to focus on the conversation between ponyboy and johnny, but your image stays with him.

“damn it, man,” he mutters under his breath, annoyed with himself.

johnny glances over, concerned. “somethin’ wrong, dal?”

“nah, ‘s nothin’,” dallas grumbles, taking a long drag from his cigarette. but no matter how much he tries to shake it, he can’t get you out of his head—the way you looked the last time he saw you, the way you smiled at him like you knew something he didn’t.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston gets annoyed with himself for how much you’re on his mind.

it’s late at night, and he’s lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. he’s never been one to get all worked up over a girl, and he sure as hell doesn’t like the idea of starting now.

he punches his pillow in frustration. “get outta my head, man,” he mutters to himself. but even as he says it, he knows it’s pointless. the more he tries to push you out of his mind, the more you linger—your smile, your laugh, the way you look at him when you think he’s not paying attention.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston starts to notice the little things about you.

sitting across from him at the curtis’s dinner table, you twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you talk about a book you’ve been reading. dallas pretends to be disinterested, but he’s secretly watching every movement, every expression on your face.

he leans back in his chair, arms crossed, smirking. “that book really that good, doll face?”

you glance up, meeting his gaze. “what, surprised I can read, dal?”

“nah, just surprised you’d waste time on somethin’ that ain’t real,” he teases, but his eyes stay on you, noticing the way your lips curl into a smile.

he tells himself it’s just because he’s observant, that he notices things other guys don’t. but deep down, he knows it’s more than that—he just doesn’t want to admit it.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to act indifferent around you.

you’re in the living room with everyone else, and dallas is leaning against the wall, watching you from a distance. when you glance his way, he smirks and gives you a little nod, acting like he’s too cool to care.

“hey,” he says when you catch his eye, keeping his voice casual.

you smile back. “hey, dal.”

he shrugs, trying to act like it’s no big deal, but inside, he’s kicking himself for being so obvious. he wants to step closer, to talk to you, but instead, he keeps his distance, reminding himself not to let his guard down.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston feels a surge of jealousy when he sees you laughing with other guys.

you’re at the drive-in with the gang, and you’re chatting with two-bit, laughing at one of his jokes. dallas leans against the wall nearby, arms crossed, his jaw clenched tight.

“piece uh’ shit,” he mutters under his breath, scowling.

two-but catches his eye, smirking. “what’s eatin’ you, dal?”

“nothin’,” dallas snaps, pushing himself off the wall with his foot and walking away. but it’s not nothing. it bothers him more than he’d like to admit, seeing you with someone else, even if it’s just two-bit being his usual clownish self.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston convinces himself that you’re just a passing interest.

he’s at buck’s place, downing a drink and trying to forget how much you’ve been on his mind. He’s been with plenty of girls before—girls who were easy to forget once the thrill was gone.

“why should you be any different?” he mutters to himself, taking another swig. but even as he says it, he knows he’s lying. there’s something about you that’s stuck with him, something that won’t go away no matter how much he tries to drown it out.

“damn it, man,” he grumbles, slamming the empty bottle on the counter. he knows he’s in deeper than he wants to be, but he’s not ready to face it yet.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston starts to notice how much he enjoys the sound of your voice.

you’re talking to his sister in the kitchen, your voice drifting through the house. dallas, who’s in the other room, stops what he’s doing just to listen.

“hey, man,” he calls out, stepping into the kitchen, “you guys talkin’ ‘bout somethin’ interestin’?”

you look up at him, smiling. “just catching up, dal.”

he leans against the doorway, crossing his arms. “yeah? keep talkin’, then.”

you raise an eyebrow, but continue your conversation, unaware that dallas is only half-listening to the words. It’s your voice that keeps him there, that makes him want to stay longer than he intended. it’s just a voice, he tells himself, but coming from you, it feels like something more.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston finds excuses to be around you more often.

you’re at the park with two-bit’s sister, and dallas just happens to show up, claiming he was in the neighborhood. he spots you sitting on a bench, and without missing a beat, he walks over, hands shoved in his pockets.

“hey, toots,” he greets, giving you a lopsided grin. “you mind if i join?”

you roll your eyes, but smile. “sure, dal.”

he plops down beside you, making some sarcastic comment about the weather just to get a reaction out of you. when you laugh, he feels a strange satisfaction, knowing he made you smile. it’s not much, but it’s enough to keep him coming back, finding reasons to be near you whenever he can.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston struggles with the idea of admitting he likes you.

he’s sitting on the hood of his car, staring out at the darkened streets of tulsa, thinking about you. the idea of being vulnerable, of letting someone in, makes him uncomfortable.

“jesus, man,” he mutters to himself, rubbing the back of his neck, “you’re just complicatin’ things.”

but the more he thinks about you, the harder it becomes to deny that he cares. it’s not just some passing crush—there’s something real there, something he’s not used to feeling. he takes a deep breath, trying to push it down, but it’s like trying to hold back a tide.

“damn it,” he sighs, knowing he’s in trouble.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to convince himself that he’s just protective of you, not that he actually likes you.

whenever you’re out with the gang, he finds himself keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re safe. he tells himself it’s just because you’re his friend’s sister’s friend, and he doesn’t want anything to happen to you on his watch.

one night, you’re walking home with him, and one of those loser socs gives you a look that dallas doesn’t like. he steps in front of you, his expression darkening.

“you got a problem, man?” he growls at the guy, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket.

the soc backs off, and you glance at dallas, a bit surprised by his reaction. “thanks, dal, but i could’ve handled that.”

“yeah, right,” he mutters, still glaring at the soc as he walked off. he tries to shrug it off, telling himself he’s just being protective, that it’s not because he actually cares about you. but as you walk beside him, he can’t help but feel that his protective instinct comes from something deeper—something he’s not ready to admit yet.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tells himself that he’s only spending time with you because you’re always around, not because he actually wants to.

he’ll find excuses to hang out with you, telling himself it’s just convenient or that he’s bored, but deep down, he knows it’s more than that.

one afternoon, he shows up at your place unannounced, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “hey, swee’heart, you busy?”

you answer in a heartbeat, surprised to see him. “not really. what’s up?”

“nothin’. just figured we could hang out or somethin’,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t been thinking about it all day.

you smile and invite him in, and as he plops down on your couch, he tries to ignore the flutter in his chest. it’s just hangin’ out, he tells himself, nothin’ special. but the way he keeps sneaking glances at you when you’re not looking says otherwise.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston can’t stand the idea of anyone else getting close to you, but he won’t admit that it’s because he’s jealous.

he’ll tease you about your other friends, making offhand comments about them, but it’s only because the thought of you with someone else drives him crazy.

one day, he catches you laughing with another guy, and something inside him snaps. “what’s so funny, huh?” he asks, his tone a bit sharper than usual.

you look at him, confused. “oh, just somethin’ funny he said.”

dallas narrows his eyes, trying to act like he doesn’t care. “yeah, well, he ain’t that funny.”

you raise an eyebrow, catching the edge in his voice. “what’s it to you?”

“nothin’,” he mutters, looking away. ‘it ain’t jus’ nothin’, he thinks, clenching his fists, it’s everything. but he won’t say it out loud, not even to himself.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dallas winston tries to convince himself that you’re just like everyone else, but every time he sees you, he can’t help but feel like you’re different.

he’ll catch himself thinking about you at the most random times and then quickly push the thoughts away, refusing to acknowledge what they mean.

one night, after a long day, he’s lying in bed at buck’s, staring at the ceiling. he’s tired, but he can’t sleep. your face keeps popping into his head, and he groans, turning over. ‘why the hell do i keep thinkin’ about her?’ he wonders, frustrated.

he tries to distract himself, thinking about other things, other girls even, but nothing works. eventually, he sits up, running a hand through his hair. damn it, he mutters to himself. i don’t like her, i don’t. but even as he says it, he knows it’s a lie.

thanks for this send in!

hope you like it <3

[undead-supernova]

Bummer! / Masterlist / 18+

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4

Playlist

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

plot: you invite eddie out to a party with you and your best friend and it's all perfect...right?

contains: eddie lacking confidence, confident!reader, dirty dancing/making out, hints at past trauma, arguing, underlining slut shaming, lots of heavy petting and fluffy feelings

note: we're up to part 3 already?! with part 4 already in the works?! who even am I anymore!!! thank you to both @littlexdeaths and @jo-harrington for being my biggest supporters and encouraging me to keep going. this is for you both !!!!

song inspo: the song in this chapter is Tití Me Preguntó by Bad Bunny. It is an absolute bop (also he is so hot it’s not even funny)

wc: 5.6k

“Your life sounds like fan fiction.”

You let out a high-pitched scoff, taking Aron’s stuffed octopus by the tentacles and whacking her with it.

“Shut up!”

Aron chuckled, throwing her hands up. “Hey, I never said that was a bad thing!”

You and Aron, your best friend since freshman year, were perched on her bed, all cross-legged and giggly, recounting the last few weeks with Eddie. When you finally told Aron about him, she was livid. How could you not tell your best friend about a really hot guy you’d been seeing who wasn’t an asshole? 

“He’s just so good,” you said with a content smile, throwing your head back on the bed like a girl in a 2000s romantic comedy. “I can’t believe I got this lucky.”

“Yeah, I’d feel lucky too if I had a guy playing guitar for me and tasted like cinnamon and beauty and stuff.”

Your smile widened, the phantom touch of his lips already having imprinted itself on your mouth. “He’s just so nice. And I feel like he gets me, you know? He sees me for me, not for my body or whatever. Plus, we have the same taste in music and movies and…” A soft sigh left your lips as you shrugged. “He just makes me happy, I don’t know.”

Aron leaned over, smiling down at you. The beads at the end of her long braids clinked together as she shook her head at you. “Well, I’m very happy this Eddie is making my best friend all gooey and soft for once.”

You rolled your eyes but you both knew you really appreciated the affirmation. Sometimes you needed that extra assurance, Aron’s opinion being maybe the most important to you—besides your own. When you’d met her at that dreaded Halloween party, all tattered clothes and broken sobs, Aron was quick to help you. Without questions, without judgment. A stranger helping a stranger before becoming best friends within a week.

Before you could get lost in the cold memory, Aron clapped her hands and gasped.

“You should invite him to the party!”

You sat up, furiously nodding. “Oh my God, yes! I completely forgot.”

“It’ll be fun.” You nodded, watching as her nose began to crinkle. “Unless you sneak off to go make out or something.”

Your apologetic smile that turned a little too exaggerated made her groan.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you said, feigning a sensual tone as you made kissy noises and reached out to tickle her.

She hit you with the octopus (that poor octopus), causing you both to laugh. “You tell me about every fucking kiss, bitch.”

Grabbing it from her, you smirked and said, “And you love hearing about it.”

Aron shrugged. “True. I’m too nosey for my own good.”

“And I’m too honest,” you added, giving her a high-five.

“So, the party?”

You hadn’t felt this way since you were fourteen, running around the football field late at night with Trent Summers, lost in the throes of an unrequited crush. Lost in an all-American fantasy of dating a boy on the football team when you hadn’t even made the cheer squad. Getting your heart broken after he told you he had a girlfriend. You ended your friendship right then and there—resulting in you throwing a football at his face.

Mary Winston had been next, all braces and crooked smiles. Sweet sixteens and discovered identities. You’d met in the art room during lunch, fawning over some TV show before realizing that there was something more there. It didn’t last long, but you swore you’d love her till the day you died. And if anyone had access to your tear-stained diary, they’d know it was very dramatic. Very dramatic.

(Come to think of it, you’d felt something bubbly inside you for Eliza Roseheart in preschool. Playing “husband and wife” and pecking each other on the lips shouldn’t have been as fun as it was.)

Now there was Eddie Munson, the guy who walked you to class and got you coffee just because. At night, you hopped in his van and went on drives. An hour and a half of scream-singing that always ended up with feverish make out sessions by the dock of a lake, the windows fogging up despite the humid heat just beyond those doors. Gnashing teeth as you both giggled your way through can we play 20 Questions? and can I tell you another secret? in between kisses. Helping him down from orgasms after some whispers and heavy, heavy petting, caressing his face in your hands as you told him how good of a job he did. Tracing the lines of his face as you teetered in and out of sleep. Feeling his lips on your forehead as he helped you back into your dorm.

You were never one to believe in good luck. After years of being thrown to the wolves and caged inside a dungeon you built yourself, this nerdy little goofball had coaxed you away from the bars. Led you from a state of hidden solitude, only to welcome you with warm sun and sweaty palms.

All you knew now was that you wanted him. Always.

“We’ll be there.”

Eddie felt naked without his jacket.

As a matter of fact, he felt a bit out of character. A dark, dark purple Black Sabbath tee was paired with his regular black jeans, combat boots, and wallet chain. The same rings and bracelets.

But his jacket. He knew he’d have to leave it with this weather. Smelling bad wasn’t an option tonight, especially meeting your best friend. The less he fucked up his appearance, the less he had to worry about fucking up in general.

So he hung up his favorite boy and left his dorm with bare arms. Followed his heart all the way to your dorm.

Had your roommate greet him, a giggle escaping her lips as soon as she saw him. Aron, as he learned, was quick to pull him into conversation as you finished up getting ready. Though you called down the hallway to them, he still couldn’t calm his anxiety.

Meeting new people didn’t bode well for him.

And yet he was proven wrong—their conversation was as easy as breathing, exchanging thoughts on their favorite video games and how legendary Black Sabbath was.

“Oh, I like you,” she said at one point and laughed at the blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m glad you already know that’s a compliment of the highest degree.”

He’d thought he got his groove back. He really did. But then he heard your heels echoing through the hallway and looked over at your figure coming closer. Eddie immediately shot up out of his seat at the sight of you.

Your dress was one he hadn’t seen before, a satin black spaghetti-strapped dress that hugged your curves just right. A patch at the bottom showed a red rose, circled by a silver snake. Black heels and an array of rings. No necklace, no earrings. Smokey-eyed and gloss-lipped.

“Fucking hell.”

Both girls broke out into laughter.

He wanted to hit himself. Could he once, just once, keep his mouth shut?

“Sorry,” he added.

You shook your head, stepping closer. “Don’t be. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received, so thank you.”

Eddie nearly missed Aron skipping off to her room when you pulled him into a hug. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, letting his arms wrap around your back. Even after all these weeks, he found that he could never get used to your embrace. Your skin against his, the fizzle of something electric jumping between your bodies.

“You look amazing, by the way,” you whispered in his ear before pulling back. He was pretty sure your smile was just as goofy as his. “I love your shirt.”

“Thought you might,” he responded with a small laugh. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but stopped himself. “Sorry.”

Your smile faltered as confusion flooded your face. “For what?”

Before he could apologize again, Aron was skipping back into the room and clapping her hands together.

“Alright, let’s boogey.”

You were quick to settle into the party, the three of you standing in one corner or another, laughing over really anything you could think of. Aron was sure to point out everyone who was cool and everyone who was not, giving Eddie a crash course in the party scene that always felt a little too high school for your taste. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy to bother with that stuff which you liked. There was nothing worse than watching someone lose themselves in fair-weather friends.

Two drinks in, Aron left to go find some other friends of hers, reiterating that they were part of the Cool Crowd. It left you and Eddie to your own devices, with your exaggerated bantering and light shoves. Touches that felt like electric shocks, the voltage only increasing with each jab. At some point, you had to wonder if that’s why you both kept doing it.

Then, in the middle of threatening to tickle him, you heard the starting sounds of a Bad Bunny song you liked. Leaning your head back, you let out a satisfied “Yes!”, watching as people quickly gathered near the speakers.

Eddie looked at you, confused.

You merely chuckled, taking his hand and leading him over to the small crowd.

“Let’s dance!”

Your hand grasped his over your shoulder, just like that night you met. It was a feeling like no other, Eddie’s heart hammering in his chest. And, God, he really couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

He was happy. He was having fun.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music!” he admitted loudly, a smile still plastered on his lips.

But you were far from deterred. “Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

And just like that, you were turning around and tugging his hands forward until they met your waist. Let yourself lean back on him, grinding your hips as they swayed back and forth.

Effortless. That’s the best way he could describe the way you moved, the way you never missed a beat. The bass pumped and vibrated through Eddie’s limbs, but you seemed to be one with the music.

Dancing wasn’t something unheard of when it came to Eddie. If he was listening to music, chances were that he was shimmying his shoulders or head banging. In a mosh pit, he let himself get jostled around, bopping along to the sound. He may not have had hips like Jagger, but he knew how to move them at least.

However, this was new territory, having a girl, having you in front of him, waiting for him to move. And if he was supposed to move, then god dammit, he was going to move.

Eddie took a deep breath before the beat slowed down. Letting his wired thoughts fade into a soft buzz, doing what he felt was right. Like pulling you tight against his chest and moving his hips at the same time as yours. Pushing himself against your ass, a harsh breath leaving his nose at the friction.

Sighing, you let your head fall back on his shoulder, a content smile lifting onto your lips. Raised your hands, wrapping them around his neck the best you could, rhythm never lost on you.

And it would be just so easy to…

But would you be okay with…

Fuck it.

Shaking his head, he leaned down and began to kiss your neck. Your next sigh was what officially turned him on, pushing him further into your heat wave. Licked a stripe up your neck and tugged on your earlobe with his teeth.

Eddie couldn’t help the thought, the impulse creeping up in this crowded house party to move his fingers just a bit lower, to skirt the hem of your dress that was riding up with each swirl of your hips. He wanted you, cock straining against his jeans in near agony, continuing to litter your neck with love bites as if you were alone.

And just before he could get a little more bold, you were taking his trigger-finger hand and placing it on your thigh, so close to what he could call the inner thigh.

“Is that okay?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He nodded. “Was already headed there, sweetheart. You beat me to it.”

“I took an earlier flight,” you joked.

A breathy chuckle left his lips. “That’s okay. That’s not my last stop anyways.”

Your thigh was soft, full, easy enough to squeeze. So he did, eliciting a high-pitched sigh from you.

A proud smile met your face. So you liked when he took the upper hand.

And, God, if you kept looking at him like that, he was going to start fingering you in front of every fucking person here. Maybe he would. No one was looking at you both, right? He could do it. Just a little bit. Just…just a little bit.

His fingers twitched, raising higher and higher and—

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” a voice said, snapping you out of this moment. You both looked over to see Aron approaching, taking hold of one of your wrists. “But I gotta steal her for a second.”

“Aron!” you exclaimed, holding onto Eddie’s hand as long as you could before Aron dragged you away. Sorry, you mouthed at him before turning back.

You couldn’t help your face growing hot at the feeling of your wetness still sticking to your inner thighs as you parted them.

She didn’t pull you far, but you couldn’t help how pissed you felt. Granted, you weren’t really pissed at her but something was about to happen and you’d been more than happy to just let it.

Eddie was finally taking the upper hand, doing what he wanted. Not just going along with what you told him to do. There was no blind faith or overthought. No, he was showing—initiating. It was euphoric. It was nearly orgasmic…

“What’s going on?” you asked, smoothing out the hem of your dress. And as you stood there fixing yourself, you felt Aron step closer to you.

“Listen, Sam is walking around, drunk as fuck—”

“Big shock there,” you commented, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aron let out a snort. “Yeah, literally. Anyways, he’s talking about how easy you are in bed and keeps telling everyone you’re here with Eddie to make him jealous.”

Sam Covington had been a problem for…a while. Maybe since last summer, when you were…friendly with some of the frat guys’ girlfriends. Got invited out one night and Sam was there, always staring at you from any corner of the room or finding excuses to talk to you. It was fucking creepy.

It was one of those things that sent chills down your spine, the fear for your safety growing with each glance. That voice that made you want to run and hide. The touch that had you wondering if you’d remembered to grab your pepper spray and whistle.

Usually, you were able to stand your ground and hurl insults he couldn’t fathom hearing from a woman. Even the last party you’d seen him at, the one where you had met Eddie…

But it didn’t mean that you felt any more secure.

“Him? Ha!” You exaggerated your tone, trying to keep your voice from shaking. Waved your hand around, desperate to stay calm. “What a fucking joke. He wishes.”

Eddie’s blood ran cold at your mocking tone, taken aback by your blatant degradation. Like a mask had been removed, revealing a forked tongue and razor sharp teeth.

He’d seen your expression, your shoulders turning inward, like you were uncomfortable. He decided to walk over and, sure, it was probably rude. He knew that. However, he couldn’t stand to see you upset. He needed to know what was going on, pulled to you with some tether that he couldn’t explain.

But he regretted it immediately.

Aron chuckled. “If that ain’t the truth, girl.”

“He’s such a fucking loser, I swear. Can’t catch a fucking hint.”

Eddie once thought he’d let go of the anger he once held in high school. The defiant boy that was once riddled with so much frustration at the cruel hand he’d been dealt. The one that jumped up on lunch tables and screamed at whoever would listen. He thought he’d given up on holding onto the bitterness of verbal sucker punches and bruised ribs.

But it was creeping back up, that violent shaking that ran along his arms. The torment of those five brutal years of high school tingling in his fingertips as you continued to desaturate the vibrancy of a man he thought he was becoming.

“Like, why does he have to be so obsessed with you?”

You shrugged and his eyes caught the tail end of your eye roll. “Because he’s so fucking desperate for someone to fuck him. That’s why.”

And before he could stop his head from going there, he was back in that blistering July. The fear of being used goods clutching at his throat as he struggled to speak, struggled to find an escape. 

“Pathetic,” you stated, voice thick with disgust.

That scorching July. Fingers trembling on the doorknob, his sweaty palm slicking it in sweat. Slipping. 

No escape, no escape.

He needed to get out. There was no thought, just action. So, he turned and started stalking towards the front door. Voices in his head spoke over one another, flooding his brain.

Freak. Loser. Dirty. Good for nothing. Desperate. Trailer park trash.

Pathetic.

“Eddie?” he heard behind him, the sound of his name on your lips like a beckoning call, serenading him with its delicacy. 

If he didn’t have a shred of dignity left, he would’ve turned around and come running. But he didn't, instead making a run for the side of the house. Maybe if he hid, he didn’t have to face your humiliation.

And, like he said, he didn’t have to run back…because you were already catching up with him, stopping him in his tracks as you stepped in front of him. How you did that in six inch heels was fucking beyond him.

Placing a hand on his chest, you asked, “What’s wrong?” As your eyes scanned his face, you added, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”

But he knew better. 

He did, didn’t he?

“Are you using me?”

You paused, flinching away from his chest as if you’d been burned. “Excuse me?”

“Like…” Eddie started, trying to take a deep breath to keep himself level. But he was starting to falter, all shaky and desperate for you to get it the fuck over with. “Like, if we even fuck, is that it? Will the chase be over for you?”

Your face began to harden, something resembling fury clouding your features. “How fucking dare you think I’d do something like that.”

“It’s just a question!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, and I don’t appreciate you acting like I’m engaging in this relationship just to fuck you and leave.” 

His eyebrows furrowed as his nostrils flared with frustration, both of you holding mirrored expressions. But yours softened first, the edges of your snarl quivering. Shaking your head, you took another step back.

“I like you, Eddie. Okay? I’ve liked you since that first night. We’ve been on, like, three dates now? And I introduced you to my best friend, for Christ’s sake. You make me laugh but you make me so fucking soft, it drives me insane. And those late night drives make these stupid midterms worth it.”

“Oh.”

“Did I really have to spell it out?” Eddie didn’t say anything. “I mean, geez. I thought I’ve been an open book this whole time. I’ve spent practically every day with you. Every night, even. Like, why would I want to be with anyone else? And did you really need me to reiterate all of that?”

“But you told your friend that I’m—”

“What?!” you exclaimed before shaking your head. “No, that was about this frat guy, Sam. He’s been creeping on me again and is spreading fucking rumors and I am getting literally so sick and tired of it.”

The dissipated anger began to creep back up at the thought of some douchebag stalking you. Who the fuck was Sam to not take a fucking hint? And why was it becoming so increasingly hard not to run back into that party and beat the shit out of him?

“A guy’s been creeping on you? Since when?”

You sighed. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

Eddie held up a hand. “Now, hang on. I am going to worry about that, because that’s not nothing.”

“I agree, but that’s a later conversation,” you said, pushing his hand down and shaking your head. “Get to the part where you tell me why you think I’d ever say that about you.”

Eddie was the one to sigh now, pissed that you had to move on but ultimately needed to confess. “I just never thought you’d actually be into me.”

“Why?” you nearly yelled.

“I’m just a fr—”

“Ew! If you say ‘freak’, I’m legally obligated to rip your eyes straight out of your skull.”

A breath escaped his nose as he closed his eyes and tried again. “You just…you’ve dated more people than I have.”

“Based off of what?”

His eyes flew open. “What?” he asked, unsure what you meant.

“You haven’t even bothered to ask me how many people I’ve dated—or fucked, for that matter.” Eddie’s eyes widened. “I’ve had one relationship. One.”

“Really?” he whispered.

You let out a laugh that didn’t match your exhausted expression. “Yeah, for a week until she got nervous about her parents finding out and dumped me. I was sixteen.” Furrowed eyebrows returned to your face as you crossed your arms over your chest and leaned towards him dramatically. “What about that, huh? How many people have you dated, Eddie?”

Two. The number was thick in his throat, his verbalization swallowed by your question being, well, rhetorical.

You paused, turning your face away from the light. But he caught your pointer finger flying up to dab your lower lash line. “Like, I’ve had sex, sure. But it’s not like I ask all those guys to fucking harass me. I honestly don’t know how that became a thing here. Like, I’m just here. I’m just trying to have fun.”

The guilt was starting to settle in his chest. “I should’ve caught that.”

“I thought you understood me,” you said before letting out a high-pitched sound of disbelief, lifting your hands and letting them fall at your sides with a loud thwack. “Like, I’m not a slut or a whore or whatever they want to say despite it being the twenty-first fucking century! And I can’t even be with you without some guy trying to—”

He heard it before he saw it. A scoff that shifted into a sob as you crouched down to your knees, only hovering above the ground by your tall heels. 

Eddie had never seen you cry, had never seen the façade so easily broken. This girl he once thought untouchable, invincible, cracking before his eyes.

Looking back to all of those moments, those numerous instances of harassment, how quick you were to send them a message. How easily it came to you, to throw your verbal and physical punches like it was nothing. Like it was a normal thing.

He’d gotten so caught up in how badass you were that he didn’t stop to think about how you felt about it. Or why it came so easily to you.

He crouched down, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, I’m really sorry. That was really shitty of me.”

He felt you lean into his hand, glad that you weren’t rejecting him. It was lame, but he didn’t think he could handle your rejection right now. Especially when you were in this state. Especially when he was the reason why.

Turning to glance at him through your tears, you said, “Eddie, that really hurt my feelings.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” he said truthfully. “If it means anything, I didn’t think you were a, um, slut or whatever. I just thought maybe you didn’t want me the same way.”

You nodded, sniffling while wiping the snot away from your nose. Never once did you pull away from his touch or grow cold. “Yeah, I get that.” You paused, your eye contact starting to burn him. “I’ve never done any of the shit we’ve done with other people. I’ve only felt that comfortable with you.”

“But you’re just…” he trailed before sighing and closing his eyes. “You’re just so good at it.”

When he heard a loud laugh leaving your lips, his eyes flew open, grateful to see a smile on your face. The laugh turned into a fit of snorts, leaving him to laugh at just how adorable you were.

“Yeah, thanks,” you teased, the familiar tone giving him the ability to breathe again. “It’s a litany of porn, smut, and—” You moved your hands up to mimic the shape of a rainbow. “Imaginaaation.”

The reference got Eddie laughing again, nodding along as he replied, “You could’ve told me you’re a dominatrix on the side and, like, I would’ve believed you. Scout’s honor.”

“Good to know,” you joked.

Eddie stood back up then, shaking his head as he reached a hand out to you. “I’m an asshole.”

You lifted an eyebrow, slowly shaking your head back at him before taking his hand. “You’re more special than you think you are.”

He lifted you up, grasping your palm in his as he brought you closer to him. Your joined hands rested against his heart, faces inches apart. 

There you were, your eyes fully in view now. Watery, with makeup creasing along your waterline and smudged mascara littering your cheeks. Despite the quiet pain it caused him, he was grateful to get a glimpse at your beauty again, your attention still gutting him over and over again.

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn he could feel his guts spilling onto the concrete. And when he drew closer, it was made even worse as he felt your heart rate increase in real time.

And, god dammit, he couldn’t help himself. Eddie closed the gap and kissed you. Gently, tentatively. Let himself linger just long enough to inhale your breath before pulling back.

“My god, you’re precious,” he whispered, heart clenching with every feature you softened—the mask slipping. His eyes fell upon your lips, slightly ajar in shock.  

“Yeah?” you whispered, breath hitching when he lightly pushed you against the wall. 

Eddie’s nose skimmed your cheek, desperate to breathe in your perfume. One last whiff. He swore it. Just one more.

Just one more.

“Mm-hm,” he hummed, inhaling your scent again.

It was the last time. Promise. 

“Tell me again,” you pleaded.

He pulled back, catching the clenching of your thighs in his peripheral. A dangerous smile grazed his lips as he gave you what you wanted. 

“You’re precious.”

You nodded repeatedly, doe-eyed as you begged, “Again.”

“You’re precious,” he said, hushed as his lips hovered above yours.

“Please,” you whimpered, legs squirming against his. But he pushed you further into the wall, your connected hands halting your movement. He could feel your heart racing furiously. “One more time.”

“You’re precious, baby.”

Before you could lunge at him, he was a step ahead of you, crushing your lips with his. Released your hand, quick to cup your face as you floundered to find somewhere to put your hands. Taking a page out of your book, he grabbed your wrists and placed them on his shoulders.

A sigh left your lips at the movement, nodding your head as you pushed your tongue into his mouth. What you were nodding about, he had no idea. He didn’t have the ability to have thoughts about anything anymore. 

All he could think was more, more, more.

All he could feel was you.

He couldn’t help himself when he slotted his thigh between yours, earning a deafening moan that made him harder than he already was. You’d moaned, sure. He’d heard you do it plenty of times when you made out. But he was suddenly struck with how different your positions were now. And how he was the reason for it. 

The thought drove him closer to the edge, roughly grabbing at your cheek with one hand while the other slid down your thigh, snaking around your knee and jerking your leg up to his hip. Your gasp made him even crazier, unable to help it when he pushed his thigh further against your core. Another wild whimper, this time with an edge of impatience.

“This okay?” he asked.

You nodded furiously. “Yes. Yes.”

If Eddie had the confidence, he’d take you against this house right now. He’d slide into you with ease, Fucking those little sounds out of you, the ones he dreamed about at night. The ones that would mirror the way you sounded right now, only intensified and louder. 

And yet it was enough to hear your now quiet desperation, to feel your thighs clench around his leg, your soaking pussy dripping through your panties and staining his jeans with ease.

“Jesus, you’re soaked.”

You nodded furiously, seemingly unable to speak as you gasped and chased his lips again. Ground your pussy against his leg. Impatient, hungry.

He couldn’t help but feel greedy, draping himself around you.

Let there be witnesses. Let the whole house hear him, he didn’t care. But those noises, your noises, belonged solely to him. Swallowed by his mouth, muffled by his body shielding yours. The vibrations pulsed through his cheeks and he couldn’t help but let out a low groan.

He noticed you continuing to chase the friction, rubbing yourself along the denim over and over, his jeans being ruined with every rut of your hips. If Eddie hadn’t been drunk off of you before, he was deliriously faded now. Because you were still going, no words leaving your mouth. Just whimpers and moans.

He wanted to say something, wanted to beg you to keep going. But he stayed quiet, knowing that you’d probably stop, keeping yourself from the pleasure he was witnessing. You looked like a goddess, eyes rolling back and, dear god, he needed to mark your neck again. He dipped his head down and began nipping at your skin again, frenzied at the reaction it pulled out of you.

The hitch in your breath caught his attention, moving his face from your neck to see your head thrown back. Your heaving chest was the indicator, the slow build of something beginning inside you. 

“Do it,” he whispered. “Come for me.”

Without any warning, he felt your legs tremble before your cum seeped into his jeans. A cry left your lips as your breath continued at a rapid pace, sweat dripping down your neck. Eddie was quick to lick it up, trying hard not to get on his knees and lap up what was left from the source.

(He was just glad he had enough restraint to resist begging for your underwear to keep for later.)

(The one time he’s able to keep his mouth shut.)

One last whimper left your lips as you came down, chasing the last of your high on his leg before he moved it out of the way. Left a gentle kiss on your forehead before he heard you sniffle.

“S-sorry,” you breathed, tightly squeezing your eyes shut. He came back to the present, leaning back as he watched your face crumble. “Sorry.”

Eddie took your chin between his fingers. “Hey, open your eyes. Look at me.”

At first, you only opened one, like you were testing the waters. He chuckled, earning access to your other eye. “There she is,” he murmured, pecking your nose. “Why’re you apologizing?”

“‘Cause I didn’t ask you if it was okay if I did that.” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pushed his fingers away, covering your mouth with your hand. Shook your head as you added, “I didn’t ask. I’m so sorry, Eddie.”

“Baby, I would’ve stopped you.” He moved your hand away, lightly stroking your cheek as he continued. “I was honestly scared you would stop.”

Your head cocked towards his, glassy eyes turned clear again. “Why?”

“‘Cause then I wouldn’t have gotten to make you cum.”

A bashful expression immediately fell over your features, shoulders caving inwards as you bit your lip. You tapped your heels against the concrete, one by one, all jittery and shy. It was cute.

“Yeah, I didn’t plan on that, either,” you said. “But you just…”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, sighing. “You kinda fucked with my head.”

“Does that mean I get to finally fuck you?”

Tapping at your cheek, you looked away in feigned contemplation before shaking your head. “Nope. I think I’ll make you work harder to get to see it.”

“Nah, I could prove it right now,” he insisted, getting down on both knees.

You became flustered, looking at your surroundings before back down at him. “Eddie, no.”

He put his hands in a praying position and tried to puppy-dog eye you. “Trust me, I can make you do that, like, five more times right now.”

“Eddie—”

“And that’s just with my tongue.”

“Oh my God. Get up,” you said with a laugh, tugging him to stand back up. “We’re not doing this in public.”

Eddie snorted, a goofy smile meeting his lips. “Well, technically we already—”

“There you guys are!” 

Aron’s voice snapped you both out of your delirium, bringing you back to where you were.

“Oh, ew!” she nearly screeched, eyes wide as she stared at Eddie’s jeans. “We’re in public, guys. Come on.” 

When you both looked down, you saw your cum glistening across his jeans. 

“I’m sorry!” you said at the same time Eddie said, “I’m not sorry!”

You immediately gawked at him and he couldn’t have enjoyed any reaction more. His smirk said it all, earning a quick whack to his shoulder. 

“You’re both so horny on main. I’m never letting you out of my sight at a party ever again.”

thank yew for the divider @strangergraphics

[atypeofherb9922]

I love how in the outsiders musical, in justice for tulsa, the cop says to “bring dallas in” but then says “that winston boy with the crooked grin.”

like those cops knew exactly who he was, he could’ve just said “bring dallas in” and those cops wouldn’t have hesitated to bring in dally.

I think it’s hilarious that the cop or chief or whatever actually thought he had to clarify who dallas winston was

everyone at the police station knows who dallas winston is

the script is great, no complaints, I just think it’s hilarious

[beautouslysandy]

Drunken Cuddles

Dallas Winston x GN!Reader

By-Sandy

Warnings: None, it’s just fluff :)

Word Count: 615

_______________________________________________

___________________________________________________ You were asleep in your room on your bed when you heard a faint tapping on your window. You instantly knew who it was with a sigh and even a bit of a snicker, half-asleep you walked over to open the window to let your boyfriend in. Who you soon found to be drunk.

Dallas was mumbling nonsense, and at this you chuckled.  “Y/N!” He cheered loudly as if he didn't just climb threw your window. You shushed him and led him to your bed and you climbed into bed as well. You took his shoes and jacket off and placed them on a nearby chair/desk. He got under the covers and got very close to you, and mumbled “Marry me, doll...” and then wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer. You placed your head on his chest and chuckled.

“I will, just not now.” You said with a smile.

“Why not?” He whined, he planted a kiss on your neck and let his head rest on your shoulder.

“It’s not time, yet.” You said apologetically.

With this he kissed you passionately on the lips, you always were shocked at how good he was at kissing. You can describe his kisses perfectly soft yet fiery, and drenched in passion . With you his passion was gentle as he didn’t want to do anything that hurt you or made you feel uncomfortable but he didn’t hold back as he knew you didn’t like that.

“Please, I love you…” He went on and whined into your neck with another soft kiss.

You laughed at this and pulled back from where you head rested on his chest. You looked at him in the eyes even though you really couldn’t see due to it being so dark out. You smiled and played with his hair. “I love you too…to the moon and back.” You said softly and placed a kiss on his nose.

“I love…you more…though.” He said drifting off into a sleep, you could hear the drunken tone in his voice. He must have even partying with Buck. You chuckled at the thought of your boyfriend partying, he goes to them so rarely.

You kissed him on the forehead one last time. ”Not possible” You whispered.

You heard him groan, you could hear his smile. You chuckled lightly, you closed your eyes and drifted into sleep.

••••

You woke up to birds chirping, you yawned and rubbed your eyes for a bit before shifting to the other side of your bed. You had completely forgotten about Dallas until you heard a voice mumble “Come back, doll.” You felt familiar and safe arms wrap around you and pull you closer to a muscular and warm body. You turned around and were face to face with Dallas.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You said softly with a teasing tone. You smiled.

“Good morning, doll.” He replied softly and placed a kiss on your lips before putting his head into the crook of your neck. You played with his hair and hummed a song that was stuck in your head.

You felt Dallas kissing your neck repeatedly, you giggled and then felt him smile into your neck. “You're so beautiful, you know?” Dallas said, kissing your neck again making his way to your lips.

You giggled like a school girl, you were pink. “Thank you, your happy today.” You said looking him in the eyes. “I am always happy when I am around you. Glory my head hurts.”

You kissed him in the lips before leaving to grab some stuff for Dallas to help with his hangover which was replied with groans and “No…don’t leave me, doll” and “I love youu”.

[moviesandmania]

THE LITTLE MERMAID The horror version has washed up! Trailer

The Little Mermaid is a 2024 fantasy horror film very loosely based on Hans Christian Andersen’s 1837 tale of the same name. Written, directed by and co-starring Leigh Scott (Piranha Sharks). The MSR Media International production also stars Lydia Helen, Mike Markoff, Jeff Denton, Wayne Gordon, Sean-Michael Argo, Winston Crooke, Dwayne Strawn, Samuel Selman and Manon Laurent. Plot: Archaeologist…

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

do you have any cuddling hcs after a long day for m!greaser?

Sure, and you didn’t specify any of the greasers that you wanted so I can just do cuddling head cannons for everyone! Also I did a gender neutral reader if that’s alright with you!

Cuddling with the gang! (GN reader)

Ponyboy Curtis

-I feel like he’d like being the little spoon more

-he wants to be held fr

-would probably fall asleep in your arms smiling

-he’d feel so relaxed and vulnerable

-and would probably live cuddling with you at the end of long days

-and just talking, whispering together

- speaking of which (slight nsfw warning) if you whispered something dirty into his ear

-probably the most turned on out of the gang

-instant hard on, especially with the close proximity

Johnny Cade

-little spoon 100%

-he wants to be held so bad

-he’s the most touch starved and it took him forever to get used to it

-like he craves touching yet resents it

-and he’d be silently happy if you snuggled with him and was the big spoon

-small kisses down his neck? Back scratching? Massages? He’d melt into your very arms

-your arms are his safe space tbh

-at the end of a long hard day I feel like it’s what he looks forward to

-the non judgmental, safe space

Sodapop Curtis

-He would switch being the big spoon or the little spoon

-hed love it

-he’d be like a golden retriever sunbathing in that one spot in the window that lets most of the light in

-he’s really soft

-the softest out of everyone I feel like he uses some sort of lotion fr or is just blessed

-when he gets really tired his southern drawl gets real thick

-would whisper “I love you” before falling asleep with his head in the crook of your neck/over your shoulder

Darry Curtis

-big spoon 100%

-he has a lot of real tough, bad days

-and even more than Johnny oh boy does he look forward to your cuddles

-he probably gets home and tackles you onto the bed like

-yk what time it is…

-if you have him massages or scratches he’d die

-bro has so much tension in his body from work and whenever you do your magic

-he falls asleep like every time

-he’s the most thankful for your cuddles

-he feels like it’s his reward for work tbh

-he’d throw a fit like a toddler if you refused lmao (jkjk… mostly)

Dallas Winston

-insists on being the big spoon but secretly wants just to be held and in the little spoon

-loves the possessive aspect of cuddling you

-he takes it as kinda of a “you’re mine”

-he would act more cold about it, at least..

-until you fall asleeep

-then kiss your forehead (he can’t be mushy in front of you ofc)

-“Night, Doll. You’re so pretty.”

Two Bit Mathews

-prefers big spoon but can be both

-he loves giggling into your neck/shoulder

-likes being held or holding you

-most likely to play with random body parts

-not even sexually just like squishing your cheeks, thighs, arms

-anything in his range really lmao

-he likes making you giggle into him too

-and when he’s too tired for jokes he’ll kiss your cheek goodnight

-he’d also stare at you in your sleep, like how did I get this damn lucky

Steve Randle

-switches from little spoon to big depending on the day

-he loves cuddling you

-he would be the most likely to give you a massage

-cars ain’t the only thing he’s good at with his hands 😏

-but fr a god at massages

-also would love to get massaged because he has some fuckin tension form working on/under cars

-all freaking day

-anyway he loves getting you all relaxed and then just wrapping his arms around you

-I feel like he’d wrap you in a blanket and hold you close

-you’re his little burrito 🥺🌯

-anyway he’s so sweet I can’t

[ghstsrock]

Dallas Winston Headcanons (HATER EDITION)

! 🗯 ⋆ hateful Dallas Winston headcanons

( a/n : if Dallas Winston has no haters then I don’t exist | I also wrote these with book Dallas in mind )

✶ WHORE

✶ Afraid of insects

✶ Hella uncoordinated

✶ Scorpio stare

✶ He looks like a bitter

✶ Leaves the toilet seat up after using the bathroom

✶ Doesn’t wash his hands

✶ Eats cookie dough

✶ Probably gotten mono so many times he’s developed an immunity to it

✶ Has the most disgusting, unreadable, broken, undesirably terrible handwriting ever

✶ Toxic masculinity (that bitch is insecure)

✶ Totally calls women bitches (derogatory)

✶ Did I mention he’s gay AND a homophobe

✶ Stopped showing up to school in middle school (uneducated :00000)

✶ Picks his nose and wipes it on furniture or walls

✶ Mean to children

✶ Picks at his scabs

✶ Nail bitter

✶ Lactose intolerant

✶ A hair puller

✶ Behaves like a super senior

✶ mommy issues

✶ daddy issues

✶ rude to waiters and people like that

✶ NASTY, DISGUSTING, REPULSIVE, ABSOLUTELY UNBELIEVABLE HORRENDOUSLY BUTT RAT UGLY YELLOW GRIMMY CROOKED TEETH.

Toothbrush? Toothpaste? SOAP??? Never heard of it

Shower? I hardly know her *gunshots*

✶ Probably hasn’t had a haircut since 8th grade

✶ Racist towards men

✶ Drinks milk out the carton then puts it back in the fridge

✶ bends down to hear people shorter than him

he also looks around like he can’t see them when they try to talk to him

﹙📦﹚ give me more characters to hate ﹒zᶻ

[lilyxlovelyy]

could u do a dallas winston drabble or oneshot where fem reader has adhd and shes like zoned out after ranting to (soft) dallas and needs to be brought back down to earth tysm❤️

Dallas Winston x Fem!reader with ADHD

Warnings: None complete fluff

Authors note: Sorry if this isn’t completely accurate because I don’t have adhd and i am not fully educated on it (I did ask my sister for help but i still don’t understand it fully yk what i mean)

he just smirked and tossed his cigarette to the ground.

He then patted the bed next to him. his hair was disheveled from tossing and turning the past few hours, and his face was still slightly puffy from sleep.

You guys had been talking in his bed at bucks for the last few hours and ranting about an assortment of stuff when you zoned out but Dallas has dealt with that before so he knows what to do.

You were staring into space when dallas started to gently rub your back.

“you okay?” he asked when you didn’t respond. his hands continuing to roam down your back and sides.

you didn’t say anything so dallas pulled you in his lap. He moved his hands to your hair gently stroking your soft {your hair color} hair.

He gently runs his fingers through your hair, the strands soft against his calloused fingertips. His other hand rests on your hip, thumb rubbing small circles through the fabric of your clothes.

You were zoned out for moment and would come back for a bit…sorta but dal just quietly whispered soft words for affection and gently caressing you he hummed quietly, continuing to stroke and caress his love. he nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck inhaling your scent. “you have the softest hair, its like velvet.” he cooed as he continued to run his fingers through it.

After a long moment of silence and soft coos from Dallas, You slowly came back to reality. “Mhmm” i hummed and blinked a few times as i was brought down to earth.

Dallas hummed happily as you came back to him. his fingers pausing in your hair as he left soft open mouth kisses on your neck. “you okay, love? was just worried…” he mumbled against your skin.

“mhm im okay” You said in a soft, hoarse voice

Dallas hummed happily as his hands resumed their gentle caress. his lips still peppering soft kisses across your neck and collar bone. “you know i love you, right?” His fingers paused in your hair again.

“i love you too” you whispered back softly. It was rare that Dallas was so gentle but when you zoned out like this he knew he needed to kind.

Sorry if its short xoxo

[quizzicalwriter]

Love Her Madly

Pairing: Modern!Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas is more than willing to lend a helping hand, even on film.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Camgirl!Reader, fingering, dirty talkin’, all that good stuff.

Word Count: 4.6k

Everyone had a career, whether it was accounting, mechanical engineering, or meteorology - everyone had something that provided monetary income. Something to survive, hell, some people even loved their jobs. For you, work was a bit more personal. You interacted with customers frequently, purchased things to pull in newer eyes, and you were damn good at it. 

Questions directed your way on the topic of your career were quickly, and skillfully deflected. Most dropped the subject, willing to delve into the next conversational topic, others were persistent. Your friends were the ladder, childhood companions who knew you better than you knew yourself. They’d nudge your arm with their elbow, teasing you with their theories on what you did for a living. 

Hitman, masseuse, dog trainer. All of them were incorrect. 

Except for one, one whispered statement into the crook of your neck on a night when all of you found yourself way past the point of inebriation. It had caught you off guard, admittedly sending a flush of heat across your chest and cheeks. If it had been anyone else, you might’ve gotten away from it unscathed. 

But you didn’t, because Dallas had been the one to guess correctly. 

Luckily for you, Dallas had no issue keeping a secret he found amusing to himself. However, his keeping of your secret included a few ill-made quips at your expense. Whenever company dwindled low, leaving only the pair of you sitting together, he’d inquire about your line of work. His words always came off hushed, almost near a whisper, but the questions were genuine nonetheless - and his intrigue was palpable. 

Usually, your work centered around yourself, toys and props were included every few clips, but it was mainly you on your lonesome. Your viewers seemed to love it enough, and if one tipped particularly heartily, you usually indulged in a little fantasy-making. Every few days you’d check your inbox, mainly to clear out spam messages and the occasional creep, but one caught your eye as you scrolled through the monotonous topics. 

A regular, a nearly fifty-year-old man with enough wealth and boredom to stock your tip jar with obscenities tied into compliments. He was kind, and lascivious, but nice enough to leave you genuinely considering his request - it certainly helped that he’d stuck a hefty tip onto the end of it all. 

All you had to do was find someone to sleep with, no biggie. 

Right?

Whatever method you’d used in the past to hype yourself up had failed you, miserably, leaving you drumming your fingers against the cool tabletop of your booth in feigned hope to ease your worried mind. Out of your friends, and coworkers you were acquainted with, only one struck you with genuine possibility. 

Dallas.

You framed your meeting around buying him lunch, which admittedly, you had promised to do after he bought you lunch the past fourteen times. It didn’t take much convincing, and after a whopping thirty-second phone call you found yourself waiting at your local hole-in-the-wall diner. 

The complimentary fries were enough to keep your mind distracted, the sharp sting of the salt against your well-bitten lips keeping you settled in the present. You weren’t worried about embarrassing yourself, you had walked in on Dallas with enough women to officially blind yourself. The worries flurrying around your mind centered around your friendship with Dallas, one you’d had since the both of you were scraggly teens. 

“Hey, kid.” Dallas quipped with a sharp push to the back of your head, quickly snapping you from your mind with a groan. He only laughed at your reaction, a lopsided smile crinkling the skin by his eyes as he plopped himself down across from you. 

“Ass.” You murmured, fighting away your smile with a rub to the back of your head. “Go ahead, order what you want. I’m like, what- fifty dollars in debt?”

“More than that.” Dallas replied with a sigh and a reach across the table, grabbing a few fries before tossing them into his mouth. “Who’s countin’? I ain’t.” 

You had spoken to Dallas on nearly every topic under the sun; sex, academics, money, drugs - all of it. Yet you were left feeling uneasy about raising such a premise with a lifelong friend. As you two finished your orders, you found yourself willing your silent mind into words, hopeful that there would be an eloquent way to word wanting your best friend to fuck you on camera. 

“Dal-“ You started with a clear of your throat, free hand grasping one of the few remaining fries from the basket between you both. “I wanted to ask you something.”

Dallas hummed, not bothering to hide his intrigue as he relaxed back against the leather booth, legs spread in a manner that left nothing to the imagination as the denim of his jeans clung to his upper thighs. You weren’t sure if he noticed your blatant staring, the way your eyes couldn’t decide if they wanted to focus on his parted lips or his parted thighs, he wore a smirk nonetheless. 

“You know what I do for work, so I don’t have to explain that part.” Before you could finish your words, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the cool tabletop between you. “I was wondering if you wanted to film something with me?”

“You want me to fuck you on camera?” He asked, tone full of nonchalance and loud enough to turn a few heads from those seated close to you. You were half-inclined to leap across the center table and clamp your hand over his mouth, but you knew Dallas well enough to know that would’ve fueled him more. 

So, with a crimson-tinted face, you nodded. 

To your surprise, he lifted his drink to his lips with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick, “Alright.”

Relief flooded your senses quicker than relative confusion on his quick decision, your mind not wanting to jinx things or have him second guess it all. Dallas had done risky things before just to say he’d done it, maybe he viewed this under the same lens? 

Some childlike part of you was left wondering if he still saw you the same. It wasn’t every day that someone called their best friend over for a lunch date, only to spring on in the middle of it all that they wanted you to fuck them on camera. 

“Dal-“ You began, clearing your throat halfway through the word. “Do you- do you look at me the same?”

His brow quirked, confusion written clear across his face as he chewed away on another fry. Once he saw you were being genuine, his eyes rolled and he let out a lengthy sigh. 

“‘Course I do.” He mumbled. “Everyone does something for cash. I don’t mind lending a helping hand.” 

Even though his words ended in enough insinuation to leave you choking back another laugh, you were thankful for him. He was an odd friend, one you were constantly worried about the mental and physical well-being of, but you knew that he’d seen enough shit in his lifetime to leave him perpetually unbothered.

“Cool.” You chimed, beaming him a genuine smile as you lifted your hips, fishing around in the back of your jeans for your wallet. “Little weird you’re willing to do it with no convincing, but I’ll take it.”

He snorted at your words, leaning back against the cracked leather of the booth with his drink in hand. “You make me sound bad, kid. Just want to help you out is all.”

“Is all?” You asked, placing down enough money to cover your tab and his, along with a hefty tip in a silent apology to your waitress for having overheard Dallas’s filthy mouth. “You realize what I’m asking you to do right?”

His eyes flickered up to yours, a look within them you hadn’t seen before, it left your stomach flipping in on itself. With a quick placement of his empty glass against the table, he leaned closer to you. 

“I’m going to fuck you on camera.” He stated, once again, not quiet enough for your liking. “And when you post it, you get paid. Helping hand, right?”

A ‘helping hand’ was a different frame of mind for it all, but you agreed with a shallow nod and a quick sip of your drink. 

“There are people here.” You whispered as you fished an ice cube from the bottom of your glass. “Don’t need them knowing my business.” 

“You ain’t seeing these people again.” He quipped with a quick reach across the table for your glass, his thick fingers slinking to the bottom of the cup for an ice cube of his own. “I’ll make it up to you later, how’s that?”

“You better.”

You tried to ignore the cocky smile that overtook Dallas’s lax features, the way his lips wrapped around the ice, the droplets of water curving around his wrist. While you lost yourself in the flex of his jaw as he chewed away at the ice, Dallas let his mind run wild with everything he could do to make you regret your words. 

Your apartment was modest, never something you bragged about, but you felt comfortable and proud enough of it to have people over several times a month. The guys had made their home in your apartment, each having their own designated spot they’d relax in for the time being until they moved onto something else that captured their attention. 

Dallas’s was your couch, pressed tight against the exposed brick wall, directly underneath one of the bigger windows overlooking the land beneath the building. He’d always push the window up, leaving the screen down to ensure no bugs crawled in as he smoked half a pack of cigarettes while talkin’ to whoever had come with him to bother you. 

Just as you assumed he would, he kicked off his boots and slung his jacket over the back of a nearby armchair, giving you a short-lived grin that sent your stomach careening in on itself before he made his way down the adjacent hallway. You followed behind him, abruptly kicking off your shoes as well before padding after him. 

“Dallas?” You called, watching as his form disappeared behind the beads you kept stapled to your doorway. They served as a makeshift curtain, only Ponyboy and Johnny seemed to love them as much as you did, Dallas always swatted at them - not that day, however. “Hell are you doin’ in there?”

As you parted the beaded curtain to the side, you caught sight of Dallas making himself comfortable on your bed, legs sprawled out before him as he struck a match against the side of his belt buckle. His blown pupils gave away his internal thoughts, so you decided against wasting time. You already had a set-up near your bed, it took no time at all to have everything propped up, and with the click of your camera, Dallas looked up to you. 

“Strip.” He murmured, a sharp inhale following the order as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Come closer, doll. You want the camera to see, don’t you?”

You nodded, moving closer to the end of your bed. His hips lifted as he not-so-discreetly adjusted himself through his jeans. The sight of his cock straining against his jeans sent your confidence through the roof, and with little more than a smile directed his way, you lifted your shirt up and over your head, letting the fabric fall to your feet. 

“Shit-“ He breathed, eyes widening as you began unfastening your belt. You didn’t try to contain the giggle that left you at his comment, you knew you’d feel the same in only a matter of minutes. 

“C’mere.” He murmured around the filter of his cigarette, a soft smile toiling with the corner of his full lips. You listened without wasting a second, kicking your unbuttoned jeans off your thighs until they were a crumbled mess against the hardwood floor. 

His eyes watched you as you moved over to your bed, how your chest flushed a deep crimson, the heat spreading up your throat until it turned your cheeks the same hue. You noticed the faint lift of his hips as you sunk to your knees, the soft bedspread enveloping your legs as you crawled over to him. 

“Sit between my legs, doll. Want them to see how pretty you look.”

You were used to holding yourself to a certain degree whenever you filmed your videos, a personal disconnect from your real self. Dallas had done away with it, his eyes coaxing you in, deep brown hues echoing each pant that left your parted lips. As you moved to sit between his legs, he hooked an arm around your middle, effortlessly pulling your back flush to his chest. 

The smoke from his cigarette left your eyes watering, but all you could focus on was the steady throb of arousal between your legs, every atom of your body screaming for his touch. Your hips shifted, twisting, inadvertently brushing your ass back against his lap. You felt the rumble of his breath circling his chest, the reflection of his head falling back reflected on your nearby camera lens. 

“Stop that.” He laughed out, words muffled as he kept his cigarette steady. “Already hard, doll. Gonna make me cum before I get to show you off.”

Wherever Dallas had learned to talk filthy, you made a mental note to pay homage to. Each word sent shockwaves through you, leaving your cunt clenching down around nothing, cum dripping down the cleft of your ass. As you tried to refocus yourself, Dallas leaned back behind you, snubbing his half-gone cigarette on a nearby windowsill. 

With a slow exhale, his hand moved to cup your throat, tilting your head back to face the camera fully. You could see yourself in the reflection of the lens, face, and chest flushed, lips parted - pitiful. 

“Come on, pretty girl.” He urged, tone a centimeter away from being an all-out beg. “Spread your legs, show them your cunt.”

He spoke of your body as if he’d seen it, mapped out your being beneath his skilled tongue, and left kisses in places unseen by your own eyes. You obeyed, lips parted in a silent moan as his hands helped your thighs apart with a gentle push to your inner knees. His chin rested on your shoulder, eyes fixed on yours in the reflection of your camera lens. 

“Look at that.” He whispered, tilting his head to see you, a coy smirk written across his face. “Soaking wet already, huh? That desperate?”

You watched yourself, your cunt twitching around nothing, dripping cum onto the bedsheets below. His hands moved from your knees, slowly caressing your trembling thighs until his fingertips brushed against the swell of your sex. 

His left hand slipped back, fingertips digging into the hollow before your hipbone, pressing down in a manner to keep you steady as his right slipped down your cunt, fingers parting your soaked folds with ease. You allowed your head to fall back, eyes shutting in a relief so packed with bliss you could’ve thanked Dallas until your voice gave out. 

With a chaste kiss to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger pressed into your cunt, gently curling up in a ‘come hither’ motion. Your hips rocked into his touch, pulling his fingers deeper, your body doing a better job at voicing your neediness than your vocal cords ever could. 

“Think you could cum from this?” He asked, even though you were both keenly aware of the fluttering of your cunt around his digits, the pants of breath that left you with each push of his fingers. You nodded, and he smiled. “Want to make you cum on my fingers first.” 

You turned your head, tucking your face into the crook of his neck as his fingers plunged into your cunt, the heel of his palm brushing against your clit. You lifted your arm, curling it around the back of his neck, holding onto him as though you were petrified he’d vanish beneath your grasp. 

A ravenous pleasure blossomed in your lower stomach as you rocked your hips into his palm, small pants and whimpers of his name tumbling past your parted lips. He whispered praise against the shell of your ear, gaze set on the reflection of you in the camera lens, legs spread, hands clinging to his forearm and along the back of his neck, cunt stretched around his fingers. 

“Dal-“ You whined, voice breaking off into another desperate moan as your cunt fluttered around his fingers. He hummed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he pushed his fingers deeper, curling them upward with each thrust. He sent you careening over the edge with a gentle circle of his thumb around your clit, continuing the same blissful motion as you cried out his name into the crook of his neck. 

“That’s it-“ He hushed, cheek pressed to your temple. “Good girl, so fuckin’ good.”

Cum dripped from your cunt, dampening the comforter beneath you. Dallas caught sight of it in the reflection of the camera lens, pride swelling in his chest at the realization that he’d made you cum hard enough to coat his fingers and the bedding in your arousal. Only when your moans broke off into desperate pleas did he slow his movements, fingers still gently rocking forward into your cunt, leaving you teetering on the edge of mind-shattering oversensitivity.

He lifted his arm after slowing his movements to a halt, exposing his glistening fingers to the warm sunlight pouring through your bedroom window. You watched with bated breath as he brought his fingers to his lips, his eyes locked on yours. It was as if the air was knocked from your lungs when he parted his lips, pushing the soaked digits against his tongue. You could hear the deep-set groan reverberating within his chest as your saccharine taste coated his tongue, all but making him drool as he sucked your taste from his fingers. 

His left hand moved to cup your jaw, tilting your head back as he lowered himself to meet your lips. His right grabbed at your breast, smearing his saliva along with the remnants of your arousal across your skin as his lips met yours. The moan that fell from your lips was pure, completely instinctive. He swallowed it with a moan of his own, fingers tightening their hold as they slipped down to cup the curve of your throat. 

You could taste yourself on his tongue, the muscle swirling around your own, ensuring you tasted yourself just as he had. It was lewd, debaucherous, leaving you clenching around nothing as you sucked on his tongue. His fingers tweaked your nipple in between rolling squeezes of the tissue, you couldn’t help but notice his tongue moving in sync with his fingers. 

“Dallas-“ You panted, eyes fluttering open to meet his, recognizing the same carnal desire reflected in his irises. He nodded in response to your unspoken question, placing another chaste kiss on your lips as his hands hurriedly moved to unbutton his jeans. You smiled into the kiss, elated laughter bubbling in your chest as your hands moved with his, nearly tearing the fabric of his boxers in haste to have him. 

It was as if there was no camera, no incentive to keep you both pawing at each other besides the heavy lust hanging in the air, polluting your mind into nothing but a heavy daze of desire. Your cunt ached, desperate for some form of attention, but you refused to appease yourself - you wanted Dallas, and by God, you’d have him. 

“C’mon.” He urged, wetting his lips as he reached behind him for a pillow. You hardly understood what he wanted from you before he pushed the pillow beneath your hips, his free hand settling against the small of your back, gently guiding you over the bunched-up fabric. You could feel his fingers spreading your folds as you settled yourself against the pillow, face turned toward the camera. 

“So fucking wet.” He whispered, tone riddled with equal parts amazement and disbelief. A wet squelch sounded through the silence as he pushed his middle and ring finger into your cunt, a sharp hiss leaving him at the feeling of your warmth enveloping his digits. Part of you wanted to be pissed, to yell at him for not fucking you, but the way his fingers curved inside of you left you pushing your hips back against his hand. 

As soon as you grew accustomed to the feeling of his fingers writhing inside of your cunt, he pulled them free, using your arousal to lubricate his already leaking cock. You pushed your face flat to the mattress, arching your back in a display so riddled with desperation it made Dallas’s cock twitch. His hand grasped at your hip, steadying your trembling form as he swiped his tip along your folds. 

He was a performer, a natural before the camera. Each movement was fluid, and effortless in a way that made you pine for him. With a gentle push forward of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching your cunt in a manner that left you whining into the duvet. You could hear him steadying his breathing, hands tightening their hold on the flesh of your hips.

“Move-“ You ordered, or more so begged. “Please.”

He responded with a grunt and a sharp push forward of his hips, bullying the tip of his cock against your cervix. Once he was sure you had grown accustomed to his size, he pulled out, pushing back in rough enough to force the air from your lungs. You wove your hand down beneath yourself, circling your middle and ring finger around your swollen clit. 

“So fuckin’ tight-“ He rasped, right hand releasing your hip for a moment to smack at the plush of your ass, leaving a red imprint of his hand behind. You felt his hand smoothing up your back, fingers pressing into the muscle of your upper back before slinking around your shoulder. 

His hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pushing your jaw up, forcing your attention onto the camera in front of you.

“Look at the camera, doll.” He grunted, fingers tightening around the curve of your throat. “Let them see how you look taking my cock.”

You could only moan in response, the noise strangled due to his impeccably tight hold around your throat. You pushed your hips back against him, eyes bleary with tears from the combination of sheer pleasure and lack of oxygen. 

His thumb pushed into your mouth, pressing against the wet muscle of your tongue as he fucked you. You sucked at the digit, your moans concealed for nearly a second before his hips jerked against you, pushing his cock deeper into your cunt. You could feel your spit dripping down your chin and onto your breasts, breaths haggard the longer he kept you pressed back against him. 

Your breathy moans were no deterrent for him, his thumb against your tongue all but forcing your noises to be heard by anyone nearby. His free hand held you by your hip, his thighs slamming against yours with each eager thrust of his hips. You could feel the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix, deep enough to knock the wind from your lungs. 

Pleasure swirled within your lower stomach, settling heavy. The chase of your climax urged you to push your hips back, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing throughout your bedroom. Your cunt squeezed around his cock, each roll of his hips leaving you both breathless, hands grasping desperately at each other as your arousal built to a fever pitch. 

“Dallas-“ You whined, tone carrying enough of a warning for Dallas to trail kisses along the hollow of your throat in between rough groans of your name. Your hand slipped between your slick thighs, fingers finding home against your clit where you eagerly swirled your digits. “-I’m gonna cum.” 

“C’mon.” He urged as he smoothed his hand down your side, grasping the other side of your hip. “Cum for me, doll.” 

A broken, garbled mess of a moan tore its way from your throat. Your eyes squeezed shut as pure euphoria shot through your veins, igniting every facet of your being as your cunt spasmed around his cock. You could hardly register the curses that slipped past his gritted teeth, how his hold on your waist tightened as he fucked himself into you, pushing his cock deeper. 

Your hands reached behind you, blindly fumbling against his dampened skin as he continued to bully his cock into you, fucking you into mind-numbing oversensitivity. His hands moved from your hips, both lacing around your wrists, pulling you back to meet each eager thrust of his hips. Your moans broke off, well past incoherent, delving into the grounds of depravity. 

“Sound so good for me, doll.” He rasped, his voice mirroring yours in its spent nature. “Want me to fill your cunt up, huh? Don’t you?”

Without giving you a moment to reply, not that you could anyhow, given your fucked-out state, he buried himself to the hilt inside of your still spasming cunt. You felt his grip on your wrists tighten to an almost painful degree as he grunted out your name, his hips jerking with each mutter that fell past his lips. Warmth flooded your cunt, spilling down your inner thighs, leaving a mess beneath you. 

As soon as Dallas released your wrists you crumbled to the bedsheets below, deep, ragged lungfuls of air heaving your chest as your mind tried to remain in the present. Dallas kissed along your spine as his hands smoothed up your sides, muttering words of praise lost on your fatigue-ridden mind.

“Doll?” He asked as he shifted behind you, left hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, gently tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “You alright? Didn’t fuck you dumb, did I?”

You shook your head as you smiled, a small bout of laughter following the movement as you threaded your fingers through his, feeling your damp skin against your pulse point. His words didn’t shock you, if anything you might’ve been worried if he babied you for too long without jabbing at you - that was simply his nature. 

“Alright-“ He groaned, moving his hand from yours to pat your cheek as he moved from your bed. “Stay here, I’ll go get a washcloth.”

As the bed dipped from his departure you took a moment to catch your breath, stretching your legs out beneath you. You were sure you could’ve fallen asleep right then and there if it hadn’t been for Dallas’s return. 

The mattress dipped beside you and a cool washcloth wiped away at your inner thighs and cunt. Dallas cleaned himself off, tossing the dirtied washcloth to a nearby corner of your room before moving back to your side. 

“Turned your camera off.” He stated as he stretched his arms over his head, leaning back afterward to retrieve his nearby pack of cigarettes. You responded in a thankful hum, or what you attempted to make sound thankful. “Figured you wouldn’t want to use your legs for a while.”

Cockiness laced heavily in his words, but you were in no state to dispute it - even if you did, you couldn’t deny he’d fucked you until your legs were jelly. You glared at him through your tired eyes, taking note of his self-satisfied grin as he leaned back against your bedroom wall, a lit cigarette hung between his lips. 

“Ain’t arguing, are ‘ya?” He asked, to which you swatted at his exposed thigh with a stifled laugh. “Hittin’ ain’t denyin’.” 

“Shut up.” You responded, not bothering to hide your smile. “You’re too cocky for your own good.”

“Still ain’t sayin’ I’m wrong.”

A/N: I’m not dead! Or inactive! Life has put me in a chokehold recently, but lately it’s been better! Writing has been a sanctuary for me, and while I can’t do it as often as I could before, I still have more time than I did prior! So, thank you all for your continued love and support of me and my work! I hope you guys enjoy this, see it as a late Christmas present, or holiday gift thing.

[honeysmoonn]

dallas and jaz pt. 2

a/n: since everyone loved dallas’ gf with a cat headcanons, here’s part two!!

• jazzy wasn’t so bad after all, dallas now thoight.

• the two of you had begun spending more and more times with each other, almost a year and a half into your relationship. it was rare, but dallas knew he was gonna stick around

• he began inviting you to hang with his friends every now and then, the gang was a lot, and (if you were shyer) he knew how you got in loud atmospheres, much like the curtis house

• but when you did come around, it wouldn’t be for long

• “oh dal, we gotta get going. it’s jaz’s dinner time soon” • “yeah, doll. we’ll get outa here”

• it boggled the gang how he- dallas winston- would drop everything for a cat. a cat! he hated cats! he thought they were witches and cursed people!

• so why exactly was he bailing on them to feed a cat?

• you

• but let’s not get too sappy, now

• now, dallas spent almost every night of the week at your house, sleeping next to you, waking up next to you, all of it

• your parents weren't thrilled but whatever

• and that meant dallas spending more time with jazzy

• you had practically forced him to give her treats to gain his trust. but his excuse was just “she ain’t like me and i ain’t like her”

• but the countless night you had woken up to get water and seen jazzy curled up in dallas’ chest told you otherwise

• honestly he really loved how soft she was. and how she purred all the time. literally made his heart melt when he would walk though the front door looking for you, when instead jazzy would be there meowing at him

• he sighed, throwing his jacket onto the chair closest to him, kneeling down the looked at jazzy with his eyes creased

• “don’t you dare tell anyone, cat”

• he said while stroking her head

• little did he know you heard his loud boots stomp into the house and were already on your way down the stairs, being able to witness a moment of dallas’ softness

• you debated on teasing him about it, but in the end you knew he would never truly grow of you were always teasing him abt it

• so you quietly snuck back upstairs, waiting for dallas to come in with his usual rant about how “that damn cat tried escaping again”

• but instead, he walked in holding jazzy in his arms like she was a baby

• your face broke into a huge grin. but before you could gush about how happy you were, dallas threw jaz on the bed next to you and sat down with a huff

• “don’t. say. a word.” • “okay… i won’t…”

• it really took everything on you not to congratulate dallas for overcoming his hatred to cats

• but instead, you picked jazzy up and gently set her on dallas’ lap with a not so subtle smile

• from that night forward dallas would be more kind to jazzy. petting her head when he would come to visit, letting her rub up against his legs, kissing her head in the middle of the night, and even quietly talking to her while you studied

• sometimes you guys would be hanging with the gang and the conversation of cats would randomly come up and the guys would all be like “oh hahaha dallas hates cats hahahah” and he would straight up be like “they’re not so bad. kinda cute actually”

• two-bits jaw? on the floor

• dallas winston loved very few things. but no one ever expected cats to be one of those things

• on the nights when dallas would stay over, you would be sleeping tucked into the crook of his arm, your own arm flung over his body while jazzy laid comfortably in the space between the two of you

• on the flip side, when you would sleep over at dal’s place, he would have to assure you a thousand time that jazzy would be okay and your parents had it handled

• even if he would never admit it, when he slept alone in his own bed he often felt like something was missing.

• that something being jazzys paws on his chest

• as rare as it was, dallas liked jazzy

[toriisasimp]

Chapter 4 of ?: Don't Get Caught

An Egon Spengler x fem!reader mini-series!

-

Prompt: Your suit has arrived! Everyone is so thrilled to see you as an official member of the team, especially Egon. He is anxious to show you how he feels.. and later formulates the perfect plan to get you alone.

Warnings: SMUT AHEAD! Other than that, nothing!

A/N: Egon in this chapter got me blushiiiiin. Y'all are not ready. Or maybe, if you're a sexually frustrated young adult like me, you are! Minors DNI. Enjoy!

-

That evening, Janine decided to surprise you with your suit- a smaller khaki jumpsuit, and your embroidered name tag. The sight of it hanging up made you grin, giggle, and jump around for a few seconds before you got ahold of yourself.

You now stood inside the sleeping quarters, with the door shut. You zipped up the suit and stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror for a moment, letting out a sharp exhale as you smoothed the fabric over your legs. 

Your boots clambered on the wood floor as you approached the bedroom door, giving it a gentle knock.

“You guys ready?”

Peter, Ray, Winston, Janine and Egon were all seated outside of the room- awaiting the reveal of your suit. Janine wanted to see it on to make sure it fit, and thought the guys might want to see it as well.  

“Come on out, potato sack!” Peter whooped.

“It does not look like a potato sack, Pete.” Winston nudged him. “..On her, at least. Now, on you..”

“Oh, shut it, Zeddemo-“ Peter was quickly cut off by the door opening and you stepping out. In your combat boots, belt, and jumpsuit- you truly looked the part. You nervously smiled and smoothed out the fabric again.

“Does it look okay?” It was then that you assessed everyone’s reactions.

Winston and Ray were smiling proudly, both nodding in agreement.

Peter whistled, looking you up and down.

And Egon.. well, Egon was bright red, his hands clasped in front of him. 

Before you could say much else, Janine walked over, adjusting the collar. “It’s not too big here, is it hun?” She tugged on the sleeves.

“Oh, no no. It fits like a glove.” You say with a smile, and she raises her hand to pat your cheek. “Good. You look great.” She then steps off to head back downstairs.

Winston gave you a polite and approving nod before stepping away, Ray coming up to pat your shoulder and compliment how well you looked.

“Got anything on under there, princess..?” Peter chuckles and approaches you, and you put a hand up, blocking him. 

“Shut up, Peter. You’re gross.”

“I’m just being honest!”

You roll your eyes and he blows you a kiss before moving around you to step into the bedroom.

Your eyes fall to Egon, who is staring back at you. Hungrier, this time. Less bashful. 

A small smirk plays on your lips as he begins to B-line towards you, and you take a few steps back, before he grabs ahold of your wrist and tugs you into a storage closet behind you.

The door shuts and its pitch black, but you feel his hands run over your waist, down your thighs, his face finding its place in the crook of your neck, leaving kisses and marks there.

You breathily giggle, your head falling back as your fingers run through his curls, messing them up. 

“Egon-“ You breathe out.

“Look at you.” He murmurs, muffled by his face being buried, and you lift his head, holding both sides of his face and looking him in the eyes.

“I know.” You whisper, before he smashes his lips against yours, hands wandering desperately- soft pants and whines leaving you as he feels you up, your hands find their spot on the collar of his shirt.

“Not here, we-“ You giggle. “Could get caught..” He kisses you consistently, and you only have moments to speak when you pull away to breathe.

He pulls away, your noses brushing as he speaks lowly. “Does it look like I care?”

His sentences makes your heart flutter and you feel like your skin is buzzing. 

“They could walk in.”

Egon huffs. He doesn’t lean back in, but keeps his hands on you.

“We..” One of his hands lowers, resting on your inner thigh. You hold your breath. His lips are right at your ear. “..Are not done here.”

You playfully shove him off and laugh, re-zipping up your suit after he somehow managed to get it halfway undone. “You're so gross.” You laugh.

“I simply want to please my woman.” He says with a wink, before gripping the handle of the door and swinging it open to step out, leaving you breathless.

The sentence he left you with makes you blush, and you look down, shuffling in your boots for a moment before stepping out after him. Thankfully, nobody was nearby.

The rest of the day, the two of you are eyeing each other, trying to remain casual around the others. You were just wondering when he was going to pounce.

That night, you’re laying in bed, and he’s in his- you can tell by the breathing you hear behind you. The tension could be cut with a knife. But eventually, you both doze off.. dreaming of.. things.

-

The next day was a normal work day, taking a few calls around town with Ray. You returned back to Egon that evening with a sample of some more slime, and you took note at how swiftly the other guys left.

Holding the small tub of slime, you watch as Ray and Peter swiftly pack up their things for the night and head for the stairs.

“Hey, where are you guys heading off to so quickly? I was thinking we could order in-“

“Ah, I promised Dana I’d stay home with Oscar while she went out with some friends-“ Peter excused himself.

“.. And I’ve got.. things.” Ray waved a hand around, making you furrow your brows. “Goodnight, kid!” Ray said as the sound of the front door shutting could be heard.

“What the hell?” You murmured, turning around slowly and seeing Egon at the workbench next to the microscope.

“Bring that over here, please.” Egon spoke up, engrossed in tending to one of his many spores. 

You huffed and walked over, doing the procedure of putting some of the slime on a slide and putting it under the microscope. “Any clue what that was all about?” You ask, before leaning over to look into the microscope.

Egon shrugged, eyes flickering over to you looking at the slime. He wrapped up his work on the spore, before moving to stand behind you, arms coming around on either side of you to adjust the knobs to make the picture more clear.

“Better?” He asks softly, and you reply with a silent nod.

As you’re examining the slime, mumbling some random observations and information about it and how you got it, you feel Egon’s presence remain behind you, and his hands move from the knobs to rest gently on your waist.

Your talking slows for a brief moment, perhaps he’s just moving around you, you think. But no, his touch doesn’t falter.

“Keep talking.” He speaks slowly, giving your waist a gentle squeeze. Your breath catches in your throat as he pressed his front flush against your backside, making one of your hands brace against the edge of the workbench. 

You obey his direction, continuing your explanation of the slime. You hear the tub of slime next to you gurgle, but you can’t see it because you’re still focused on the microscope.

You shiver as his fingers tease the skin right under the hem of your shirt, and you finally raise your head from the microscope.

“Egon-“ You whisper, straightening up enough for your back to be pressed against his chest. He takes the opportunity to walk you both forward a few steps, caging you in between him and the workbench. 

The slime reacts, gurgling and bubbling again.

You then notice his lab coat has been abandoned, and his button up sleeves have been rolled up as his arms move to wrap around you, his face burying in your neck.

“Was this your plan all along? Get the boys out so you could-“ You breathe out a laugh, one of your hands lifting to tangle in his curls.

“You said you didn’t want to get caught, right?” He asks, voice muffled slightly as he pressed kisses to your neck and jawline. “Now, I can finally touch you..” His voice trails off as his hands move to lift your shirt slightly, running over the skin of your stomach. Your knuckles turn white against the workbench, and you swallow hard to keep down a whine.

As his hands trace over the waistband of your jeans, your hips buck accidentally, and a barely audible whine forms at the back of your throat, and you can hear him chuckle lowly behind you. The slime bubbles.

“You’ve been thinking the same thing too, haven’t you?”

All you can do is take a heavy breath, and you feel your senses heighten as he unbuttons your jeans, and smoothly slides a hand in.. lowering down to tease a hand between your folds.

Your jaw drops, head dropping forward and hand flying to hold his wrist. He follows your movements, keeping his chest flush against your back, lips by your ear. “There she is..” He murmurs.

A soft moan finally escapes you, as he begins to circle your clit- and you swear you can hear him moan along with you.. feeling something pressing against your backside. Christ.

The slime bubbles so much it begins to overflow, onto the workbench surface.

Your head tilts back, resting against his shoulder as your fingers keep hold on his curls, the other on his wrist. “Right there-“ You bite your lip.

“There?” He intentionally moves away from the spot that had you shaking.

“No-“ You whine, and it brings a chuckle out of him. He finally moves his fingers back to the spot and slips them in, beginning to pump them in and out. 

“Egon-!” You moan out his name, and it’s like music to his ears. His cheeks are flushed, and he can feel himself harden against you as he gets you off.

“You’re close, I can feel it.” He whispers against your ear; and it makes you shiver, hand tightening around his wrist. After a few more pumps of his fingers and kisses on your neck, your climax washed over you, making your head fall forward again, hand slipping away from his wrist to brace against the counter. The slime container had tipped over, spilled all over the workbench. You whisper out his name a final time, chest rising and falling quickly as you catch your breath.

“Good, very good..” He murmurs, removing his hand from your pants and fixing them back up. “Very good results..” 

What you don’t see is him licking your juices clean off his fingers, and adjusting his own pants before his arms wrap around you from behind, more gentle this time.

“Conducted another experiment there, Doctor Spengler..?” You ask hazily. 

“Mm.. or perhaps I just wanted to finish what I started.”

You snort. “Yeah- that’s for sure.” Your eyes flutter shut, turning in his arms to wrap yours around his neck, and rest your head on his chest.

He laughs along with you, you can feel the vibration of his chest. “You should go lay down. I’ll order us food.” He says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and swaying gently.

“Mm.. Chinese?”

“I was thinking Thai.”

“Or maybe Mexican?” You glance up at him, and see him smiling down at you.

“Mexican it is.” 

You nod at your agreement, and step away to shuffle off to the bedroom, to change into something more comfortable.

The evening concluded with a feast of Mexican between the two of you, winding down with some sudoku (that Egon aced, and took you half an hour to finish one page), and both of you eventually went to bed.. sharing the bed for the night since the other occupants had went home.

He curled up behind you, falling fast asleep. You made sure to take off his glasses for him and set them on the bedside table, since he always forgot.

You felt sleep tug you under, as you felt safe in the arms of your favorite scientist. 

-

<3

[rhamrhanch]

Shepherd of Death, Don't Herd Me

Part One: Humble Awakening

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: canon-typical violence, hurt/comfort

Next Chapter // Masterlist

Summary: You were just an engineer. That's all you ever wanted to be. But after a chance encounter with the leader of Null Sector, you soon find your simple life crumbling to ash.

A/N: started writing a Ramattra fic and thought I should post it here as well. hope you enjoy!

chapter under the cut ↓

---

The room was too quiet, you thought.

With omnics, there was always sound. The gentle drone of their fans, steady as a human's heartbeat. The grind of metal when they moved.

No such sounds could be heard now.

Your pistol sat heavy against your hip. By all accounts, you were safe. Yet still you hesitated, resisting the urge to stroke the crumpled exoskeleton of the omnic slouched before you. You had never tinkered with this model before, unsure whether even the gentlest touch may rouse him. Considering the identity of your companion, it was not an irrational fear to have.

But as you took in the state of his body, that fear dwindled more and more.

Half of his face plate was missing, jagged edges rippling down to his chin as though it had been torn off. A camera-like eye stared through you, unfocused. Where a right arm should have been, there was only an empty socket. A gruesome scene of carnage, were he formed from flesh and blood.

You reached out to his thigh, slowly, cautiously. Your fingers met the rough leather there, rising over the ridges of crushed metal underneath.

The reports you received after debriefings had few pictures, but there was one that stood out to you. It was clear in your memory, the image of his silhouette. Tall and broad-shouldered, with dark cables fanning out behind him like a mane. His crook in hand likened him to a humble shepherd, yet he stood proudly, dignified as he beckoned to his flock with arms spread wide. You had always thought he cut an imposing figure.

Seeing him like this now felt… strange. Wrong, in a way.

Your nails caught on a spot on his hip, halted in their path up his broken body. You peered closer, seeing the small imprints of numbers—his manufacturing date. It was scratched out, something else carved beneath it.

You tested the name in your mouth, letting it roll over your tongue.

Ramattra.

---

It was meant to be a simple mission—well, as simple as Overwatch missions could be.

Remnants of Null Sector's presence lingered after its attempted invasion in Gothenburg. In response, a few agents were dispatched to "clean up" the area, culling any Nulltroopers that remained. After a few days, everyone who had stayed behind received word that their fellow agents would rejoin them in Gibraltar soon.

A week had passed since then in radio silence. You could tell it worried Winston. The banana peels scattered around his office indicated as much. But suddenly, without warning nor explanation, the wayward team returned—battered, but alive.

All was well, you had thought, until Reinhardt dropped a mountain of metal at your feet, and you realized it was a miracle they returned at all.

"An R-7000!"

For as long as you had been an engineer, just seeing an R-7000 in person was a dream come true. They were so scarce these days, nearly hunted to extinction. Killed at the hands of humans in retribution for the war.

You had no memories of the Omnic Crisis, born at the tail end of the war and left to clean up the pieces. Even so, you knew the stories.

R-7000s.

Ravagers.

Squad killers.

A rare class of omnics designed by an artificial mind in its first act of creation. You yearned to understand it, to witness the way a machine engineered itself. To reach that level of efficiency, no material wasted, no part unnecessary or unused. It was an ouroboros of invention, something created with a single purpose. You had no choice but to admire it.

"Impressive, ja?"

You craned your neck up at Reinhardt. There was an open gash on his forehead, dried blood painting a red stripe down to his chin. It stained his teeth as he grinned proudly down at you.

“What happened?”

Winston shuffled over, straightening his glasses. “I'm just hearing the details now. It seems they ran into him while on the way to the pickup site.”

"'Him'?" You cocked your hip and glanced at the omnic on the ground. "Who is he?"

A pause. "The leader of Null Sector."

Your head darted back to the mangled omnic in disbelief. You hardly even recognized him in this state. “What? Why would you bring him here?"

Winston cleared his throat. “As you can see, the encounter has left him quite… damaged.”

Damaged was one hell of an understatement. Your eyes roamed the omnic's body, taking inventory—what needed to be replaced, what couldn't. After a beat of silence, you realized the veiled request in Winston's words.

“You want me to fix him?" There was an unspoken question in your tone: why? But Winston only nodded. You didn't press any further; his lack of an answer was answer enough.

"It might take a while. He is missing an arm.”

“Take your time. He won't be going anywhere anytime soon.” Winston’s expression turned stern then, and you straightened up instantly. “I know this is a lot to ask, but we can't lose this opportunity. Let me know the moment he wakes up.”

You nodded slowly. With a parting wish of good luck, Winston turned to help unload the ship. You waved over Reinhardt, who slung the omnic over his shoulder with ease and followed you out of the hangar. Danger or no, you would not let it deter you. This was the first opportunity you’d been given to work on an omnic in a long time, and on a Ravager no less. You refused to waste a single second.

---

Now alone in your workshop, you could admit the truth—you hadn't the faintest idea where to start.

You knew just from a glance it would be a difficult fix-up job, and that was assuming you had materials at your disposal. Reality was much more sobering. Ever since the recall, a free-flowing wave of supplies was a fool’s wish.

You would have to make do.

While the rest of the damage would be no easy feat, what concerned you most was the state of the Ravager's—Ramattra's—chest plate. His metal exoskeleton completely caved in, likely the result of a blow from Reinhardt’s hammer. Repairing it would be invasive—you may even need to separate the cage from his body entirely.

Slowly, you placed your palm against the center of his chest, feeling the warped edges of the metal there. Looking at it closely now, it almost resembled a sternum. It fascinated you, how similar the design of Ramattra’s body was to your own. Your hand traveled across his upper chest as you mapped the parts you recognized.

Sternum, collar bone, shoulder…

You let out a quiet breath. It was no wonder Ravagers were so terrifying during the Crisis. But as you gazed at his face plate, caressing the ridge where it splintered, you couldn't help the gradual sorrow that tightened in your chest. How many of his model had been destroyed since then? Were there even others left?

You searched through the mess on your workshop table. During your exam, you noticed that his chest plate had multiple layers. External armor secured at his "sternum," four steel rods extending outward from the top, while an iron rib cage curled from the bottom. To fully assess the extent of the damage, you would need to go through the tedious effort of removing all the parts individually.

Crowbar in hand, you returned to the Ravager. You slotted the tool into the gap between his sternum and the rod that protected his upper chest, pressing down firmly. The plate gave slightly—you pushed harder. A click rang out in the silence as the piece loosened, and you smiled to yourself. Brute force was always reliable. Perhaps not the most elegant approach, but effective nonetheless.

You worked at a moderate pace, the palm of your hand aching from where the crowbar pushed against it. It wasn't long before the last rib was released, and you could finally access his chest plate. Your earlier fatigue forgotten, you immediately set about loosening the screws that held it closed. By the end of the entire process, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on the nape of your neck.

Finally, the panel opened, fanning outward from the middle as though a blooming flower.

The inside walls of his chest were a map of circuits. Wires snaked in and out of his machinery, threaded through actuators and sensors like vines. Hydraulic cooling fans sat below a row of black cubes—multiple power units, you realized. There were so many more parts, some you didn't even recognize, and you wanted nothing more than to stay there all day and analyze each one.

But then your eyes fell on a cylinder nestled in the center of his chest, and you realized you had made a horrible mistake.

Ravagers were of the commander class of omnics, designed with physical combat in mind. This much you knew. Omnics that were humanoid in shape had their central processors in their heads, but a location like that in an omnic crafted for battle was dangerous. Those kinds of omnics would house their central processor where it could be well protected—a place with fortified shielding and a large surface area to disperse force.

And if you were an intelligent AI focused on maximizing utility, you would have programmed those omnics with a failsafe—some method that enabled them to protect the most vulnerable part of their body, in the event their system was otherwise compromised.

A hand shot out toward you before you could even blink, seizing your throat and dragging you to the ground. You couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. A red glow lit up Ramattra’s face plate as the once sleeping omnic rose, hauling you up with less effort than one would a sack of flour. But before he could reach his full height, his legs faltered beneath him, forcing him to sag against your workbench. You dipped lower with the movement, the tips of your boots scraping the ground but doing little to relieve the intense pressure on your jugular.

“What…” His voice came out garbled, as though run through mud. “…have you done to me?”

Your hands clawed desperately at his hold, attempting to pry his fingers away from your throat, but it was useless. All the muscles in your body could hardly hold a candle to the strength that poured from his hand alone as he squeezed the breath from your throat.

As you fought for your life against the brutal might of his grasp, you couldn’t help wondering how many kilograms of force his grip strength boasted. 100, maybe 125? The lack of oxygen to your brain sullied your ability to approximate considerably.

He seemed to realize you were suffocating, if only indicated by the way his thumb dragged up the tender skin of your throat and under your chin, forcing your head to the side. You gasped raggedly as air scraped into your lungs, making you cough. At least you could finally breathe—all that was left to do now was grab your gun, and this ordeal would be over.

Yet your hands did not move from where they wrapped around his wrist. You knew you had to, knew that every moment you waited narrowed the only opening you had. But before the synapses could fire for you to even think about reaching for the pistol at your waist, he dug his thumb under your jaw, hard, and you yelped in pain.

“Answer me, now.”

“Repairing… you,” you choked out. “I’m… an engineer—”

“Lies!” he hissed. His hand was a vice grip now, your pulse pounding in your ears from the restricted blood flow. “My chest is flayed open by your hands. Tell me the truth, human!” He practically spat the last word and yanked you closer, forcing a grunt out of you as your neck jerked up with the motion.

Your vision went fuzzy at the edges as your hold on consciousness weakened even more. A frightening thought ran through your mind at that moment.

I'm going to die here.

With the last breath you could manage, you muttered, “Taken by… Overwatch.”

His hand loosened. You slipped from his grasp, collapsing on the floor in a fit of hacking coughs. It hurt to breathe, your body instinctually rejecting the gulps of air you forced into your lungs. You weakly pushed yourself up on trembling arms, chest heaving as you struggled to recover. You had barely caught your breath when he grabbed you by the front of your coveralls, pulling you face-to-face.

“Where am I?”

“Gibraltar," you coughed.

He was silent, his exposed eye dilating and contracting as it studied your face intensely. You weren't sure what pushed you to speak again. A desperate last attempt for your life, maybe?

“Your voice box,” you whispered. His eye froze. “I can fix it.”

A sardonic chuckle rumbled from his chest, scratching your eardrums. “Do you really think I would let you anywhere near me again?”

You cleared your throat, trying to maintain an air of authority and pretend that your offer was not made on a whim. “I specialize in omnics—I can help you.”

“All the more reason not to trust you.” His harsh rebuff came out a growl, rippling with static. “You know better than anyone how to kill me.”

“But I haven’t.” Well, you'd thought about it. But he didn't know that.

For a moment, there was only the hum of his auxiliary vents—a death knell you knew you were not the first to witness. You braced yourself, waiting for him to fold your skull in on itself like it was made of paper.

The grip on your coveralls slackened. Your hands barely shot out in time to catch yourself, head immediately snapping up only to watch him sink back down to the ground.

“Fine, human. Let's see if your words match your will.”