#s e hinton

[ya-what--ya-erster]

Do I need to spell it out for some of you dumb shits

Yes! I know. Dallas Winston died in the book of being shot by the police in an act of suicide.

I freaking know.

Dally dies in the musical by getting hit by a train in an act of suicide.

The book is the original, the book shows the dangerous side of Dally, I can see why you all gravitate toward that version. I do too sometimes, depending on context. I get it that you might like it better.

But you’re seriously telling me you want Joshua Boone, a Black man, to be shot by the police eight times a week? Are you stupid? Are you fucking crazy? Maybe some people would be comfortable with playing that role and doing that, but do you not see why they chose differently? People of color, especially Black people! Are shot or put in jail or assaulted for absolutely no fucking reason pretty frequently. I think it’s fair that they didn’t want for him to go through that every night, because that would be pretty hard to separate from reality.

Getting hit by a train is easy to put aside in your mind and say, “yeah, that’s not going to happen to me.”

For a person of color, getting shot by the police isn’t easy to set aside, because that could happen to you without any reason or provoking at all except for the color of your mothertrucking skin.

So stop being a whiny bitch about it.

[hellothereimaloser]

outsiders request? Sick Ponyboy and Darry and Soda caring for him? bonus points if you make ponyboy look really feverish and on the verge of tears

Lol do i get bonus points 🤩

[only-lonely-star]

can you pls do a johnny cade smut where him and reader just broke up and they see each other at a party and they have really aggressive sex? thank you!

★ Mine ★

~ Johnny Cade ~

Warnings - This is a NSFW story. You and Johnny are not minors. Drinking, consensual tipsy intercourse, oral sex, choking, slapping, degradation, aggressive sex.

Summary - You spot a familiar face at a party…

Author’s Note - Thank you so much for the request!! This was so actually fun to write because it’s so 𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 and kept me on my toes 😭. Enjoy!!🤍

Word Count - 2.1k.

.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.

You were anything but in the mood to party tonight. Your most recent breakup with your boyfriend, Johnny, left you in pieces. The constant nudge of your friend, Kelly, was aggravating you more than you'd thought. "Take a drink, come on," she pleaded, the tipsy gleam in her eye unmistakable. "You look a mess. This is a party, y'know..."

You uncrossed your arms, your gaze on the plastic red cup filled with a clear liquid. That shit was straight poison - you'd be vomiting all night from just a few sips. Although to take your mind off of Johnny sounded like a wonderful idea. Parties were supposed to be fun. Drinks, the men, the music - everything. So, you took the cup into your already clammy hands and took a considerably large sip.

"There ya go, drink up," Kelly chuckled, her hand giving your back an affectionate slap. The liquid nearly came right back out from the forceful touch.

You grimaced at the bitter feeling running down your throat, and how your mind already felt cloudy. Drinking was never your thing.

Kelly seemed to have ventured off by the time you glanced up from your cup. You could see her clinging onto a man you hadn't seen a day in your life, a signal to maybe find your own company for the night.

Wandering around the crowded house party felt intimidating as hell. So many options, so many choices of who you could sweet talk with for a bit - at least until Kelly found you. A hand swayed over your midsection, causing quite the disorientated stir from you. A taller man with blonde curls, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket pressed his chest flush against yours. "Lemme take you home," he coaxed, obviously just horny and lonely.

You gave your head a small shake, leaning your body fully against his. This was just a small distraction for you, you didn't plan on actually going home with this guy. He kept on rambling on about trying to get you in his bed, blah, blah, blah...it was all a blur. It wasn't until you registered a familiar pair of eyes boring into yours. Your wobbly legs had already brought you to the eyes before you knew it, pulling away from the other man's grasp. Your lips curled up to a smile, squinting your eyes to have a better look. "Johnny?"

Johnny's expression was priceless. A seething mix of jealousy and irritation was visible in his eyes. He grabbed onto your bicep with a firm grip, startling you in your drunken state. "The hell are you doing? We break up one week, and the next you're with some guy at a party?"

You were dazed, not knowing how to respond without upsetting him further. "It ain't like that, I don't even know him."

"Bullshit," he spoke gruffly, the anger in his voice clear as day. Johnny's grip only tightened, his eyes scanning the wild house party's atmosphere.

"It's not bullshit! Maybe if you didn't leave I could've been with you instead!" The words fell from your tongue in an agitated hiss.

Your bold choice of words caused him to yank your arm tighter, leading you away from the wall he was leaning against. You stumbled behind him, mind fuzzy and emotions swirling. You didn't question it - figuring he was going to take things up with the man you were with.

"You over me? That quick?" he asked, disbelief laced in his taunting tone. You shook your head vigorously, the tipsy state increasing your honesty with him. He'd taken you to a door, leading to what seemed to be a bathroom. The crowded hallway was littered with plastic cups, cigarettes, and articles of clothing such as shirts and panties.

"Good," Johnny replied simply, yanking you inside the bathroom. Others had clearly been in here, small spills of straight vodka all over the counter and floor.

You locked eyes with Johnny. It felt awfully similar to when the two of you would venture off to a bedroom or bathroom like this at a house party. Seeing him again caused a whirlwind of emotions, but mostly desire. You hadn't been fucked since before you two had that massive breakup. Your cunt ached for him.

You were soon snapped out of your thoughts, his hand pressing onto your throat, squeezing it ever so slightly. Your ass was pressed down to rest on top of the pearl-colored countertop, just beside the sink. He stood between your legs, continuously pushing your body so that your shoulders were against the stained mirror.

"You want this?" He asked, the question almost pointless to your drunken state. Of course you wanted him.

"Yes," you croaked out, his hand squeezing your throat tighter. The sensation did wonders in dampening your folds, your body practically begging for his touch.

Johnny used his free hand to unbuckle his belt swiftly, the metal piece falling to the floor in an instant. Your eyes widened, stifling any sudden moans that dared to escape your lips. Before you knew it, his denim and boxers had been kicked aside to the other end of the cold, tile floor. You felt your cunt repeatedly clench and tremble. His hand never moved, he needed to keep you propped upright and under his control. Johnny's other hand pushed your denim skirt up, allowing him access to your cum-soaked panties. He grinned at the sight, knowing he was the one to have gotten you so wet even without entrance just yet. He ran his finger over the wet spot, spiking the fabric further. He gruffly spoke up, locking eyes with you intimately, "You're gonna take all of me."

This was no request - it was a demand. You could almost swear you felt yourself finish right then and there, his authoritative words sending a chill down your spine. Stripping yourself of your shirt and bra, you set it on the other end of the sink. You scrambled to unbutton your denim skirt as well, sliding it all the way down to your ankles for Johnny to finish removing. You did the same with your panties, sliding your body closer to his. He caught on to your eager actions, shutting down the idea immediately. "Sit up," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Johnny~" you groaned aloud lustfully. He slid his dampened tip to graze over your clit. The feeling of his warm pre-cum caused your cunt to yearn for more. Johnny's hand squeezed your flesh somehow even tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

"God, I missed my pussy," he admitted in a low and lecherous voice. You hummed in response, grinning from ear to ear. Having him confess to you so suddenly only made your desire grow.

He slipped his tip inside your warm and wet cunt, your body taking its time to adjust to his size once more. You let out a shaky moan, your hands involuntarily searching the countertop nearby for something to hold onto. You didn't have enough time to properly adjust before his entire length pounded your insides with a firm thrust. A holler of pure bliss erupted from your lungs, tilting your head back in submission.

"Take the whole fuckin' thing. I ain't stopping 'till you remember you're mine." Johnny declared, his thrusts becoming faster by the second.

You could've sworn your neck had a red handprint on it from the extreme choking he'd been establishing on you. The same could be said about your cunt, Johnny fucking it as he pleased to fulfill his desires.

A low, guttural moan fell from Johnny's lips, his cock deepening inside you. Your body was jerking back and forth so rapidly, your breasts jolting up and down. The pleasure only seemed to increase from there. Your ecstatic expression made Johnny crumble. He lifted his hand to your cheek, striking it firmly before grabbing your chin to force your gaze on him. A wicked smile formed on his lips, "You like that? Fucking yourself onto me? Hm?"

The realization flooded your mind, realizing your body had been subconsciously moving on its own to receive all the more pleasure. You were no stranger to rough sex - you'd constantly find yourself enjoying the occasional slap and swat from Johnny. It made your legs tremble, the burning sensation lasting only a few seconds but having a long-term effect on your desire for his cock.

"Yes... yes, I like it," your raspy voice struggled to reply to him. His hand on your throat squeezed all the right spots, your eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah? You're mine," he declared again, slapping your cheek once more just to be sure you heard him loud and clear.

His cock slammed into your tight cunt, the sound of your skin slapping his causing a breathless moan from the both of you. You felt your eyes fly open, only for them to instinctively roll back. You were teetering on the edge, Johnny's pounding motion placing you in a state of bliss. He noticed the way your eyes had rolled back, your breathing becoming faster by the second. Your legs instinctively closed on him, the rush of pleasure causing your legs to shudder. Johnny helped you through your climax, slowing his pace as he praised you under his breath. “Did so fucking good for me.”

The constant words of encouragement settled the adrenaline pumping through you, his slow movements finishing you off with a breathy moan. You peered down to see himself holding back from releasing just yet. His cock soaked in your cum slowly thrusting inside you was a sight you quite enjoyed. The wetness surrounding him allowed more movement inside your dripping cunt.

He then pulled out, a groan of frustration slipping out. You blinked back the pleasure, panting and sweating. Your pussy was marked all over - red and bruised yet you'd enjoyed the whole thing.

"On your knees," Johnny spoke suddenly, removing his hand from your neck, a red handprint marked onto your flesh.

You didn't hesitate to do as told, your legs trembling as you stood from the countertop and fell to your knees. Johnny stood over you, grabbing a fistful of your hair so that you could look him in the eye. Your mouth opened just enough for his tip to slip inside, your tongue flicking against it for a brief second. Johnny's head tilted back, a groan falling from his lips. "Yeah baby, taste yourself on my cock."

The words shook you straight to your core, but you went along with it nonetheless. His hips bucked closer to your head, the movements sending his throbbing cock further down your throat. Your muscles tightened, a small cough erupting as your eyes squeezed shut. Johnny cut you a bit of slack, the feeling so relieving you hummed against his skin in reply. Looking up at him with those wide eyes of yours made Johnny push himself further. You could’ve sworn his length made its way to the very back of your throat as he fucked himself into you. Your salivating mouth and small swirls of your tongue sent waves of pleasure throughout his body. His grip on your hair grew tighter, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat at a much swifter pace. Johnny let out a groan, the sound coming from the depths of his lungs. He came to a slow stop, the smirk on his face saying it all.

“Swallow it. Swallow,” he urged, keeping his cock buried down your throat.

You were more than happy to swallow, the adrenaline rush and desire for him fulfilling your every move. You grimaced but swallowed nonetheless - a droplet of his warm cum running down your chin as he pulled himself out. You let out a deep exhale, panting as Johnny held a hand out to you. You steadied yourself up with his help and used the back of your hand to wipe the remains off your skin.

“Johnny, I needed that so badly~” you spoke in between breathless exhales, trying to bring your breathing down to a more natural speed.

Johnny only smiled in response, watching as your figure wobbled beside the counter, your hands on his forearms to keep yourself up. “I know it. I missed you…honestly - I did.”

The words of reassurance fluttered through your heart, a gut feeling arising that your story wasn't over with him. You looked into Johnny’s lustful gaze, knowing he was holding back. “You know you're mine though, right? I don't ever want to see you movin’ on with some guy at a party - you hear?”

Johnny placed a soft yet meaningful kiss on your lips, pulling away in an instant as he awaited a reply. Wrapping your arms around him neck, a few tipsy kisses placed onto his jaw sealed the deal. You were his once more.

[weirdobuvle]

Dallas Winston moodboard !! || first post :D

[gone-with-the-windrixville]

Feeling a little blah today, so I thought I’d post an artwork!

I get the feeling that Johnny is no good at suspenseful movies. I was thinking about Pony and Johnny sneaking into Psycho (or some alternative film) and him being a nervous wreck the whole time.

[bubblegumflavor]

♡Tulsa babes♡

[stew-skys-husband]

What's a line that keeps you up at night I'll go first: "I thought we lost you like we lost mom and dad."

[every-single-day]

YO S.E. HINTON IS SO FUNNY

[socgf]

i love their friendship so much but i can’t get over how in every single photo of them together she looks like she’s trying to figure out how to explode him in her mind

[hmar177]

DALLAS WINSTON ONE SHOT <3

******SMUTTTTTTTYYYYY******

I'm not sure when I stopped loving Jack, but I know it crept out of the subconscious of my mind the second I saw that damn photo. I know I shouldn't feel this way, Jack is perfect. He comes from a good family, he's sweet and charming, he gets along with my friends and brings my mom flowers everytime he comes over. He was everything I could have dreamed for myself. He is who I should want. But that damn picture of Dallas Winston.

I wish he had just stayed on his side like he was supposed to.

My predicament started a few months ago when I was walking home from school. I had to stay late after my final class to run over a few plans with the committee for the dance coming up. It was my first dance that I was fully running myself and I was over the moon about it. I loved planning big events like this. My brain worked meticulously over every detail and it was so satisfying watching it all come together.

After I had finished my meeting with Sally and Davis, I found myself taking my normal walk home. It was a beautiful day out. The sun was just low enough in the sky to cast a gentle, warm glow on my face, the leaves left a quiet hum in my ears, and I found myself inhaling the glorious scent of the freshly landscaped houses as if the scent would live forever in my lungs if I breathed deep enough.

As I rounded the last corner before my street, I heard loud screeching coming from behind me. A car full of what seemed to be 4 or 5 rowdy boys came barreling down the street. Blasting loud rock music and howling like a pack of wolves, the boys came up fast. I stopped in place and watched as they came closer. They slowed up ever so slightly as they passed me, giving me a good chance to glance into the vehicle. I didn't recognize them, but I did recognize the driver. Dallas Winston.

With his sunglasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose and a cigarette hanging lazily out of his mouth, he held my eyes as he cruised by. I can't tell if I imagined it or not, but I thought I caught a hint of a smirk on his face before he punched the accelerator once more and took off before I could even register the entire exchange. It almost felt like I had just hallucinated that whole sequence.

What were a bunch of greasers doing over here on the west side? Not that I ever had anything against them, I just figured they would want to stay clear of a bunch of privileged, snotty folks who are constantly after their demise.

I had never met Dallas before, but I knew bits and pieces about him. Grew up with a rough homelife, dropped out of school, and even wound up in prison for a while. Everyone in this town saw Dallas and all the greasers as less than. I saw them as kids who just had shit luck when it came to the parents department.

I knew some greasers. There were quite a few in my grade, like Sodapop Curtis. He was one of the sweetest kids I ever met. Had a heart of gold, and a boatload of love for some girl Sandy he always seemed to mention. Soda dropped out a few months ago though after his parents both died tragically in a car accident. Another example of kids with shit luck and no ones around this town to sympathize for them.

Later that night, I found myself sitting at my desk trying to work on my short story. I was assigned by my English teacher to write a short story loosely based on a truly exciting and invigorating time in my life that made me feel alive. The only problem was I have never had an experience in my life that could remotely be described as such.

Everyday, I wake up, go to school, go to event committee meetings, or to my internship at the local newspaper, The Tulsa Chronicles. After all that, I either come home and do homework, or just hangout at the drive in with my friends and my boyfriend Jack. Nothing about my routine is special or interesting. It never changes and I don't see it altering anytime soon. In a town with so little to do, it is quite the tall order to ask us to find something interesting to write about.

I want to be a writer some day, so when I can't complete a simple short story for school, it horrifies me that I may be chasing after a hopeless dream. I intern at the Tulsa Chronicles in hope of it being a good addition to my college applications, but for now I am just helping with the printing and shipping of the papers. One of the editors told me if I had a writing piece that I was proud of, I could pass it along to them and they could give it a read and see if there were any opportunities for me to write something for the paper soon. I was hoping this short story could be that piece that I was proud of, but that is looking like a pipe dream now.

After staring at my blank paper for what feels like hours, I decide tonight is not the night that I am going to find any inspiration, so I turn out the lights and climb into bed. Maybe my dreams will inspire me. Maybe I'll dream of those greasers, flying through neighborhoods and screaming, sounding like they are high on the freedom that life has to offer. I want a taste of what they are having.

The next day is the same as all the other ones, not to anyone's surprise. I woke up, went to school, and made my way over to the Tulsa Chronicles. When I walked in, the newsroom was buzzing much more than normal. In a town as boring as Tulsa, there is not a ton of news to report, so when the newsroom was like this, something major must have happened.

“Rose, get to the printer stat. We need to start loading up these boxes now!” my boss Susan yelled from across the room.

“On it!” I let her know.

As I made my way to the printer, pages were flying out faster than I have ever seen before. This must be a big story if they have the printers working this hard.

Page after page, I watched them stack into a nice pile until the cover page finally flew out.

It read, “Delinquent youths turn heroes after daring fire rescue”

Right next to the title, I saw their faces, Ponyboy Curtis, Johnny Caid, and Dallas Winston.

Pony and Johnny's pictures didn't shock me. Cherry Valance told me a few days ago how sweet and kind they had been to her at the drive in and they always seemed like kind approachable kids. But cherry had also mentioned that Pony and Johnny had protected her from, Dallas Winston

Dallas had always seemed so cold and foreboding. Even his smirk from yesterday's drive by left a chill down my spine. It wasnt that I was afraid of him, but Dallas Winston wasn't someone you just assumed you could become fast friends with. You had to earn his loyalty to be seen with him. His picture being tagged alongside this story seemed extremely out of character. Dallas had his family of greasers and he had himself. There wasn't much else he was looking after. Especially not strangers in some random church fire.

I picked up the front page and looked at it very closely. Part of me didn't want to assume like the rest of this town that this was a mistake, but a bigger part of me couldn't help but think this wasn't true. Dallas Winston saving children he didn't know? Dallas didn't walk by a child in the street without trying to terrify them in some way. Something isn't adding up. Were we all utterly wrong about him? I couldn't help but just stare at his picture, trying to see him run into that burning church. Coming out covered in ash, carrying a couple kids in his arms and placing them down gently before rushing back inside to save more. I felt a twinge in my chest. Something I haven't felt before.

“Rose! Quit daydreaming and pack up those papers. The delivery service will be here in 20 to take those boxes out. They better be filled!” Susan yelled.

“Yes of course.” I replied, suddenly taken out of my temporary, and odd trance.

As I loaded each paper into the boxes, my eyes lingered a little too long on Dallas’s face as each paper piled onto the next. After what must have been hundreds of papers, I “accidentally” misplaced one in my bag sitting next to me. I don't know why I took it. I would surely be getting one of these papers delivered to my house within the next day or so, but part of me wanted to just have this for me. I also didn't want to explain to my dad why I needed his morning paper, the one I had helped package and ship out and have had access to for over a day.

After loading the last box and as a sudden calmness came over the newsroom, it was finally time to head home. I grabbed my bag, making sure the paper was tucked in enough so that it wouldn't be seen, said goodnight to the staff, and made my way out.

As I walked out of the building, I looked up to see Jack leaned up against his shiny new sports car that his parents just bought him as a good job for making the basketball team present. It sounds ridiculous and it is ridiculous. When you come from money like Jack's family, there are very few occasions that don't involve an illustrious gift such as the sports car he now leans against.

I say all this with complete understanding that I come from a family very similar to Jacks. I am privileged and I know that, but I don't see that as a reason to act any differently towards others. Why should the number that's on my fathers paychecks determine whether I am a better person than others? It doesn't. But people like Jack feel that it does. But Jack makes me smile, and my mother hasn't shut up about those lilies he brought her this past weekend when he was over for dinner. Who could hate Jack, right?

“Hey there honey. How was the journalism world today?” Jack says with a smile as he opens the passenger side door for me to get in. Jack picks me up whenever he's in the area and he knows I'm here. It's very sweet of him. Another reason to love him, right?

“Busy. There was a big story today so there were a lot more papers to print and ship.” I told him.

“Really! What was the story?” He asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Oh I don't remember. I didn't really get a chance to read it. Too busy getting them into boxes.” I explained. I don't know why I lied. I think a part of me felt guilty about the things I felt and thought as I looked at Dallas’s picture the past few hours and another part of me wanted to keep Dallas to myself for a bit longer because by morning everyone would be talking about him. More people would be picturing him as this grand hero, and I still wanted to be the only one who saw him that way.

The rest of the ride, we sat in comfortable silence. That was the best way to describe me and Jack's relationship. Comfortable. Our parents set us up freshman year of highschool and we fell into the narrative with ease. He was cute and popular. It made sense why I should want him, so I convinced myself I did. And it worked for a while. A long while now. But as we come towards the midway point of Junior year, I'm not too sure how much longer I can convince myself that Jack is what I want. But what would be my reason for leaving him? He was too nice to my parents? He made one too many jokes that made all my friends laugh? He was too popular? Too athletic? On paper he was perfect. Trying to tell anyone that my time with Jack was coming to an end would make me sound like the biggest fool. So I just stayed. There was no reason to leave, even though I wanted there to be so badly.

We pulled up to the front of my house and he came around and opened my door. I thanked him and looked up to my house. The big, beautiful white home sat on top of the hill at the top of my street with a huge porch that wrapped around the whole house, and perfectly painted blue shutters. It was truly out of a magazine and I was eternally grateful for being able to be raised in a home as beautiful as this one. The dining room light shined bright and I knew my parents were in there waiting for me to arrive so we could have dinner as a family. Jack took my hand and walked me to the door. My mother opened it as we took the final step onto the porch.

“Jack!’ My mother said, “How kind of you to bring Rose home. Won't you come in and join us for dinner.”

A pit immediately formed in my stomach.

“I'd love-” Jack started before I cut him off.

“I'm actually not feeling very well so I think I am just gonna go to bed.” I quickly sputtered out. Facing Jack I said, “Maybe another night.”

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before rushing up the stairs and straight into my room before anyone else could say anything. That was definitely rude of me, but the thought of having to sit next to Jack for the next hour, knowing I smuggled home a paper with the only intention of staring at the man on the cover made me extremely nauseous. I may not feel for Jack the way I used to, but I wouldn't be disrespectful, and if I was gonna be disrespectful, I wasn't gonna allow him to eat dinner with me and my family as if everything was fine and dandy.

I sat down on my bed and immediately removed the paper from my bag. It wasn't often that I had strange outbursts such as the one I just had downstairs, so I knew my parents would leave me be for a while. I took the paper, and got comfortable. Reading the entire article front and back and learning that what the title states was indeed true, I took the cover and discarded the rest of the pages. Holding Dallas’s picture up, I thought about the words in the article and how they described the man I was looking at. Bold. Courageous. Brave. Not words I would initially think of when I heard the name Dallas Winston.

His face held hard lines in his jaw and forehead. He had strong dark features and striking eyes. He was beautiful in a rugged and tired way. A way that you never see here in the west side neighborhoods. I was mesmerized by his stern stare. I wanted to know everything about him and I wanted to know it now. I wanted to spend a day with him and learn what it took to earn his trust. To earn a glance from those haunting eyes. The way he looked at me as he rode past me in his car yesterday felt like a shot of espresso. It jolted something awake inside of me. I needed another hit. I craved it.

Before I could comprehend what I was doing, my body was up and at my desk. I was opening my drawer and pulling out a pair of scissors. I slowly and carefully cut around his face making sure not to accidentally trim anything important off, because truthfully it was all important. He was important and I needed to know why.

I held the small picture of Dallas Winston between my fingers, holding as close to the edge as possible, with fear I might smudge it, and I grabbed a piece of tape. Walking over to my bed, I taped the picture on my wall right next to where my head lays when I sleep. I could hide it during the day behind my pillows when I made my bed. It was just for me. He was my new interest. He was my excitement that I had been looking for, I just had to find a way to make these little daydreams something real. As I crawled into bed with the image of dark raven eyes flashing through my mind, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, Jack, my parents, and Tulsa all feeling like a distant memory rather than my reality.

It could have been 3 hours or 3 minutes, but before I knew it, I was woken up by the sound of my desk lamp falling to the ground and a soft breeze coming from my window that I was sure was closed when I got into bed. I shot up like an arrow and reached for the lamp on my bedside table, flicking it on as fast as I could. As the light flooded the room, I was immediately met with the eyes I saw as I lulled myself to sleep. I had to be imagining him right? Dallas Winston stood right there in the middle of my bedroom, standing at least 6 foot 2, drowning in his leather jacket, with his signature blue jeans, and a black eye that was shining through even in the dim lighting.

“Dallas?” I began before he ran over to my bed and clasped his hand around my mouth and the other one slid behind my head keeping me quiet and still.

Slowly he shook his head as if to tell me, now is not a time for talking. I assumed he was scared my parents would hear him, which I am now realizing never even crossed my mind. My parents would lose their minds if they strolled into my room right now to find a greaser, Dallas Winston worst of all, standing in my bedroom at, I flashed my eyes to my clock, 2am. But my parents never even entered my head, nothing really entered my head. Not fear, not my parents, not jack. All I could think about was that incredible shot of adrenaline I felt when I saw him, and coming up with a plan to make him stay as long as possible so I didn't have to stop this feeling.

All of a sudden I heard sirens, and red and blue lights flash past the house at a high speed. I looked up at Dallas who was looking out the window to make sure the coast was clear. His hands were still firmly placed around my head. I studied his face while he wasn't paying attention to me, just as I was doing last night. But this was ten times better. The picture didn't do him justice. He was gorgeous. A light sheen of sweat coated his forehead from running I assumed, and his hair drooped gently in front of his eyes, giving him a rugged elvis look. I could stare at him for hours and not get bored for a second.

Once he saw that he was in the clear, he slowly brought his attention back to me. He studied my face for a second, a small shimmer of something in his eyes but I don't know what it was. After a moment he brought his eyes around my room, studying the pictures and posters on my walls that I'm sure I'll be embarrassed about later, to the books on my nightstand, and with another flick of his gaze, he was locked in on something behind me. He stared long and hard and I couldn't think of what it could be. He slowly came inclose, his lips right next to my ear.

“Well I'll be damned. Looks like I have a fan.” He whispered, his warm breath hitting my neck.

My eyes widened, the picture. Dallas WInston was looking at the picture of him I cut out and taped next to my bed.

“Now tell me darling, if I remove my hands, can you stay quiet and not let anyone know I am here? Because I do have a few questions about this I'd like to ask.” He said quietly with a shit eating grin on his face, so good, that it could seduce the Queen of England.

I slowly nod. Why am I not terrified right now? A known felon is standing in my room right now in the middle of the night. He snuck in my window in an attempt to run from the cops. I am harboring a criminal right now as we speak and all I can think about is how I can end things with Jack so that this lasts forever.

“Good Girl.” He says softly, then slowly takes his hands off my mouth, immediately missing the feel of his touch. God I was so fucked.

He pulled over my desk chair and took a seat right in front of me, our knees almost touching. He held the picture between his fingers looking at it, then up to me.

“So tell me, what's a nice girl like you doing hanging up pictures of bad Dallas Winston on her pretty pink bedroom walls?” He asks.

I think I stopped breathing. What was I supposed to say? There was no real explanation for why I hung up the picture other than I was chasing a feeling I couldn't even name. I stared blankly trying to say anything, trying to think of something to say that would make him as interested in me as I was in him.

“Well?” He pushed after I sat there stunned for I don't even know how long.

“Uhh, I, Uh….. I think I want to feel what you feel.” I said. Shit. That didn't even make any sense. He for sure thought I was crazy. He looked at me puzzled.

“Honey, the last thing you want is to feel what I feel.” He gave a small laugh that created small needles in the back of my throat and moved to get up.

“I want to feel alive. I want to be reckless and have fun. You have fun, don't you?” I said quickly, anything coming out of my mouth was just a hidden plea for him to stay.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked back over to me. The moon casting a soft glow on his hard features. The shimmer in his eyes came back for a second. He slowly sat back down.

“Oh, I have fun. But the kind of fun I have would give a soc like you nightmares.” He said with venom on his tongue. I couldn't tell if he was threatening me or daring me to push him more.

“Show me.” I whispered. Dally smirked at me pondering my dare for a split second, before he slid his switchblade knife out of his pocket and softly dragged the blade from my fingertips, up my arm, and across my collar bone. Every hair on my body stood straight up. My breath hitched ever so slightly and he moved the blade to my neck and held it there.

Part of me was truly scared, and another part of me felt that there was something a bit performative too. Dallas Winston wasn't going to hurt me. I knew that for a fact. He leaned in close, taking a strand of my hair in his other hand, and brought his lips to my ear.

“Are you having fun yet?” He said. I couldn't see his face, but I could hear the smirk in his words.

I backed away so I could meet his eyes. A fire raged behind them. I would give anything to look inside his brain, even for just a moment. I smiled at him and I could see the excitement grow. I don't know why, but I liked what was happening. I liked the uncertainty of what he was going to say and do, and I liked that I trusted him for no reason at all.

“I think I like you more than I should.” I say. I don't know why I said that. I wasn't even embarrassed that I did. It was like being close to him unlocked a new version of myself that I didn't know existed. A version of myself that had confidence and a desire to push the limits. I felt alive.

“Do you like me more than your boyfriend?” He grinned.

“Do you want me to?” I challenged. He grinned and his gaze flicked down to my lips for a moment before it returned to my eyes. The knife at my throat is all but forgotten.

“Let's make a deal. If I can kiss better than a soc, you have to go out with me.” He said.

“And if you can't?” I said, barely a whisper.

“Oh honey, there are very few things I can't do.” He said leaning in and attaching his lips to mine. I felt the knife hit the bed next to me as I melted into his kiss and his hands wrapping around my face.

It was soft and slow for all but a moment, before I knew it he was laying me down on the bed and forcing his tongue into my mouth. I guess it wasn't forcing it, more like me waiting for it and craving it.

My hands roamed his body, feeling his toned muscles through his thin black tee shirt. I slid his leather jacket off, as his hands found their way under my shirt. He planted his hand on my stomach and pushed me down to the mattress keeping me in place. A breeze gently floated in from the window, and it made me hyper aware of the slickness that was now coating my thighs.

His mouth moved to my cheek and then to my neck. I clasp one of my hands over my mouth to muffle my moans. He placed his thigh between my legs allowing me to move my hips to get some relief.

God what was I doing? How did it come to me grinding on Dallas Winston in my bed at 2 in the morning. I couldn't bring myself to stop though. It was all too much. Too good.

“How am I doing sweetheart?” He said in my ear before he brought his face back up to look me in the eyes. “I think the tears in your eyes are telling me that I'm gonna see you tomorrow night.”

I moaned into his shoulder, as I felt his hand trail down my abdomen and underneath my waistband. He teased there for a moment, smirking down at me waiting for me to stop him, but there was no way in hell I wanted this to ever end. I gave him a quick nod before he cupped me over my underwear. He quickly covered my mouth with his own as he knew I was about to moan. He chuckled softly into the kiss.

“My God Dallas. Oh my god” I moaned into his mouth.

“I am a God, aren't I?” He growled before sliding his fingers underneath my underwear and inside of me. The pleasure was so overwhelming, that I bit into his shoulder to stop myself from crying out. He groaned from the pain, but I knew he liked it.

As his fingers pumped in and out of me, he slowly started to grind himself into my hip. He was hard. I felt him poking through his tight jeans, begging to be let out.

“Dallas. I want you.” I begged. I need more of him. I need him closer.

He removed his fingers from me, leaving me feeling empty. I looked up at him and he immediately placed his fingers into his mouth, sucking me off of them. I let out a moan. He was trailing kisses down my chest, then my stomach, never taking his eyes off of me.

“I know baby, I know. Not yet though.” He assured me. “I just need a little taste first.”

He grabbed the waistband of my shorts and my underwear and slowly pulled them down, never stopping his trail of kisses that now led down my leg.

“So beautiful.” He whispered to himself as he was now eye level with my core. “Spread your legs for me baby.” I do what I'm told. “That's it. Good Girl. Now lay back and let me worship you.”

Dallas wastes absolutely no time diving right in and taking all of me into his mouth. He licks from top to bottom and back again before taking my clit into his mouth and sucking. “So sweet.” He moans into me.

I have to grab the pillow on my bed and cover my face because the scream I almost let out would have surely woken up the entire neighborhood. Dallas’s name on the tip of my tongue. The name about to escape with every moan that shoots through me, which would not only let the town know I was in the middle of the most erotic moment of my life, but also it was Dallas Winston that was buried between my legs.

I feel one of Dallas’s hands remove from my thigh and I look down to see what he was doing. I look down to see Dallas’s mouth still attached to my clit, but his eyes boring into mine with the most seductive look I have ever seen in my life. Without ever looking away from me, Dallas removes his mouth, now just an inch away from me, and takes a little gold foil packet out of his pocket and takes it straight to his mouth. He rips the foil open with his teeth and slides the condom out.

He stands up. His 6 foot 2, god-like stance, looming over me, made me feel so small and helpless on my bed. God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall right now, wanting to see what I might look like. My shirt pushed up, shorts and underwear thrown about the room somewhere, My hair probably a mess, and tears staining my face as Dallas Winston stands over me, slowly unbuckling his belt.

He smirks down at me and he pulls his pants and boxers down, revealing his erection and my god it was big. I honestly didn't know if it was gonna fit inside of me. Right on cue, as if he could read my mind, Dallas says, “Don't be scared darling, you can handle it.”

He goes to put on the condom, but I sit up quickly, grabbing his hand, stopping him. “Can I do it?” I ask him. He looks down at me with hooded eyes and a smirk that could kill.

“Fuck yeah you can.” he says in a breathy tone as he hands me the condom. I take the condom out of his hand and hesitantly grab his dick. A low grumble comes from his throat as I give it a little pump before rolling on the condom.

The second it's on, he pushes me on my back, and comes down on top of me. He starts to position himself at my entrance and looks me in the eyes. “Baby, as much as I want this to last forever, I'm not gonna last very long.” He leans in kissing me hard and chuckles against my lips and I smile at his words. Yeah, me neither.

I take a deep breath and he thrusts inside of me. I clasp my arms around his neck and hug him as close to me as possible. He is big and it hurts so good. I bite into his shoulder again trying to distract myself from the pain, but also from the fact that my orgasm is seconds away and he just got inside of me.

He whimpers in my ear as I kiss his neck profusely. He finds a steady pace that has me borderline drooling. “God Dallas, don't stop. It feels so good.” I barely get out because I can barely catch my breath. I shoot one of my hands out and feel something sharp hit my finger. I look down to see Dallas’s knife still sitting next to us on the bed. It must have nicked my finger. Before I can register what's happened, Dallas takes my bloodied finger and sucks it into his mouth while holding my gaze. His eyes were hooded, and looking drunk off sex.

“Come for me baby. Come on. I know you're there. Show me how good I make you feel.” He begs me. Between his words, and my finger in his mouth, I'm there in a second. Burying my face into his neck, my orgasm rips through me harder than it ever has before. My nails digging into his bicep and a drip of sweat going down my forehead. Dallas still thrusts into me hard and fast for a moment more before he takes my lips into his and I feel his dick twitch as he spills into the condom.

He lays on top of me, breathing heavily in my ear for what feels like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. He slowly removed himself from me, then pushed up so he was hovering over me again. He smiled down at me as I grabbed his face with my hands, pulling him down to kiss me. His kiss was so gentle, the word love flew through my head, but it was only a fraction of a thought.

I brushed my finger over his cheek bone, before noticing my finger was still bleeding. I brought it to my face, inspecting the cut. It wasn't deep at all. Just a knick. Dallas took my finger to his lips and planted a soft kiss to the cut. Adab of blood coating his lip, only for a second before he licked it off.

“What time are you free tomorrow?” He asks as he nuzzles his face into my neck, no doubt leaving more hickeys.

“Maybe around 7?” I told him. “I just have to go break up with Jack, and then I'm all yours.” I giggled lightly. He came back up and looked at me with the most serious expression I saw all night.

“All mine.” He smiled.

***hope you enjoyed!!!!!!!!! DALLAS WINSTON I LOVE YOU***

[nobeerreviews]

Maybe the two different worlds we lived in weren't so different. We saw the same sunset.

-- S. E. Hinton

(Roma)

[rockandrollsgroupie]

“I’ll tell you something, Ponyboy, and I’ll bet it may come as a surprise. We have troubles you’ve never even heard of. You want to know something?” … “Things are rough all over.” ₊˚⊹ ࿔

[hellothereimaloser]

Ponyboy still dreams of drowning...

Before I got sick I managed to draw this oneee, it was hella out of my comfort zone but I like how it turned out eventually 🥺💞

And yes it's exactly what you think it is 😔

[only-lonely-star]

can you do dallas winston x soc reader where she invites him over to her house and it’s super pink and girly and he wants to look at every little thing! love you’re work btw!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Pretty in Pink . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Warnings - Pure fluff. Established relationship between a soc!fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - If it were up to him, he would never leave your room ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

Author’s Note - Thank you so much for this request!!! I’m truly so happy to hear you love my writings, it means the world to me 🫶🏼. I sort of took ‘house’ and turned it into bedroom, so I hope this is still okay skhfhsjjs 😭. I had a lot of fun with this one, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!! 🩷🩷

Word Count - 1.1k.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Applying a thin layer of tinted gloss, you puckered up and smiled upon the reflection in your vanity mirror. The white, wooden piece blended with the rest of your room perfectly as it leaned against the floral wallpaper adorned in patterns of pink peonies. Pink - you were certain there wasn’t a color as perfect as the pastel hue that flooded your room. As a finishing touch, you doused the sides of your neck in a fancy perfume, one that cost a fortune. The bottle was, of course, a baby-pink heart with a white ribbon tied around it. You felt ready to take on the world.

Leaned against the windowsill of your bedroom, your eyes longed to catch a glimpse of that rusted, old Thunderbird that Dallas typically took you around the city in. You could hear it a mile away, the noisy vroom of the vehicle, and the screeching shrill of its breaks. The stars cast a beam of light against the pavement to your driveway, ensuring he’d find his way there eventually.

Although you loved him to death, this boy had never spent a second in this house past your doorway. Tonight was different - he wasn’t dropping off flowers, knocking on your door to shower you in drunken kisses, or even luring you into his car to sneak out for the night. He was staying over. In your bed. Staying in your girly bedroom. Just at first glance, it was clear Dallas was no softie. He didn’t care for frilly pink bows or dainty jewelry, he was as masculine as they came. A hint of nervousness formed at the pit of your stomach as your brain worked double-time to map out every negative outcome possible. Maybe he wouldn’t like it, it would be too overwhelming - the possibilities were endless.

Just as these thoughts began to overwhelm you, the repetitive ring of your doorbell brought you back to reality. He was here. You raced for the front door without a second thought, leaping down the staircase, taking two steps at a time. Once you had reached the door, you flung it open with excitement, only to wrap your arms around his figure. He wore a cocky grin, a classic expression he often used in moments like these. You felt the jerk of his body as he stifled a laugh. “I saw you yesterday,” he commented wittily, slowly running a hand up and down your back.

You stood on the tip of your toes, planting a kiss on his cheek. Without waiting a second longer, you snatched the boy inside with a simple yank to his arm. “Come on, get out the cold, Dal,” you teased.

Dallas glanced down at his boots, giving them a quick stomp or two before taking a look around. “So this is your little mansion, huh?”

“Mansion,” you scoffed in reply. “This ain’t even the best part! Come on upstairs with me, I’ll show you my room.” You ran a hand up and down his sleeve as a signal for him to follow your lead.

Dallas let out a low whistle, slowly making his way up the staircase. His eyes darted in every which way, gliding his hand the entire way up the wooden railing of the staircase. “Shoot - I’d sure like to live in someplace like this.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re living in my room tonight,” you responded cheekily, biting back a smile. As you reached the final step, you guided him down the hallway which led to a number of bedrooms, each decorated in their own unique way. Dallas poked his head in each one, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion as to which was yours. “Dal, it’s this one.”

He whipped his head around, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Continuing to follow your lead, he carefully took in the new environment. Pink, flowers, ribbons, lace, hearts, dolls - it all hit Dallas like a tidal wave. His dull eyes were now filled with excitement at the sight of it all. “Jesus Christ,” he scoffed, “l think you might like the color pink.”

Letting out a burst of laughter, you ushered him inside. “Who would’ve thought, right?”

Dallas’s attention was immediately drawn to the white jewelry box with flowers painted along the side. He curiously stepped closer. He traced his finger along the woodwork, whistling lowly, “This a dollhouse or something? Looks like it would be for a-.” His attention diverted quickly, just before you could correct him. Dallas smiled in fascination as he caught sight of a small ballerina placed on a shelf near the closet doors. He inspected its fine details, running his fingers along the figure.

Before his interest was sparked again, you decided some commentary was needed. “That’s actually a music box, if you look at the bottom there’s a little knob.”

Dallas had his fingers twisting relentlessly around the knob before you even finished that sentence. He set it back down on the shelf, watching the little dancer spin around as the steel comb inside produced a delightful sound. “No fuckin’ way…” his voice trailed off in awe.

“You like that?” you chuckled, standing beside him to observe the figurine. It felt strangely comforting seeing Dallas with such youthful wonder in his eyes.

“That’s so cool, man, I want one,” he shifted his gaze from the music box back to you with a genuine smile.

“I have to show you this doll, I’ve had it since I was…five? I don’t know,” you spoke excitedly, dragging him towards your bed.

Kneeling beside the bed frame, you reached underneath it to retrieve a box. This box was worn out, each crease and wrinkle in the cardboard, a sign that it was well-loved over the years. Out came a porcelain doll, dressed in a white, ruffled dress with a lacey bodice that was colored in a soft shade of pink. Her hair was blonde and curled to perfection, a small bow added to accessorize her faux hair. Dallas stood over you, his thumbs in his jeans pockets. “She’s gorgeous, I bet that thing is worth more than my life.”

You gently stroked the back of her hair, admiring the delicate fabric of the miniature dress. “Hell- who knows?” You began to pack the doll up once more, hearing the shuffling of Dallas’s feet along your carpet. You paid no mind to this at first, assuming he was checking out more of your belongings. It was only then, that you stood up to find Dallas cozied up in your bed underneath a heap of fluffy pink and white blankets, holding a teddy bear against his arm. He had thrown on a satin sleeping mask adorned with small red hearts. Dallas had truly made himself at home, despite standing out more than any unique decoration in your room. He had a field day in your dollhouse of a room.

“How do I look?” he asked playfully, adding a hint of sass to his voice.

In adoration of a softer side you’d never seen before, you pounced onto him as you let out a giggle, wrapping yourselves in the plush blanket. “You look so pretty in pink.”

THANK YOU ALL FOR READING!! I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS ONE!!! 💋

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[sodapopper]

I’m sorry but your headcanon that Darry is an avid reader is wrong. Darry and Ponyboy don’t bond over fiction. Darry doesn’t understand the point. Darry doesn’t like movies because he “thinks his life is enough without inspecting other people’s.” Ponyboy feels misunderstood because he loves poetry and literature while his brother exists on hard tangible reality.

However, I think we can find a compromise that suits both the headcanon and the character:

Darry is an avid reader—

of nonfiction.

[gone-with-the-windrixville]

I’ve been thinking of drawing this since I saw the West Side Story remake all the way back in 2021. It was finally time.

Ya all gotta watch “Gee, Officer Krupke”. It was Outsiders musical coded before the musical had even performed in La Jolla.

Under the cut is the version with text that I don’t like as much. 😅