#winston's writings

[perfectquote]

Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about.

Winston Churchill

[perfectfeelings]

Never give up on something that you can’t go a day without thinking about.

Winston Churchill

[cloversplace]

Dally going out at night in Buck’s truck solely looking for Johnny. Finding him curled up in the lot and gently waking him and guiding him back to Buck’s T-Bird. Promising him it’s no trouble at all.

Dally sneaking Steve food in every way he can, making sure he’s eaten at least one full meal a day and nudging him in the ribs until he does.

Dally staying with Two-bit every time he’s at Buck’s. Making sure he doesn’t drink too much and has a safe place to go after. He’s already lost two family members to a car accident, he’s not about to lose another.

Dally waking up first in the Curtis house, making a pot of coffee “just because”, even though it’s clearly for Darry. Getting Pony up in the mornings and making things just a bit easier for him. (He also folds the laundry, but never tells anyone it’s him.)

Dally who tells Soda he’s cared about, who seems to only show up to tell Soda there’s a race going down at Buck’s just when Pony and Darry start going at it. Who tries not to fight in front of him, lord knows that kid has to deal with it enough.

Dally who has stayed up with Pony dozens of times. Holding the boy in his arms on the couch as Pony sobs, saying that he can’t handle it anymore. Dally just holds him, because god dammit he can’t lose another brother.

Dally who gives Johnny a bed at night.

Dally who sneaks apples and bags of chips into Steve’s lunchbox for work.

Dally who dumps out the bottles and pries Two-bit’s hands off of their glass necks.

Dally who tries his hardest to show Superman he’s not alone.

Dally who gives Soda a break from all the screaming to just have a good time for once.

Dally who hides the blades and Aspirin bottles when Pony gets bad again.

Dally who knows how to care about everyone but himself.

Just, Dally.

[stay-close]

Never give up on something that you can’t go a day without thinking about.

Winston Churchill

[planetscobell]

— dating dallas winston headcanons ! ࿐

warnings : a bit of swearing, but other than that none!

— ✦ a/n : eeee my first post! all of these are just my personal headcanons, you don't have to agree with each and every one of them─ i would love to hear some of your guy's personal headcanons about dallas! i hope you guys enjoy! ♡

⊹ i don't think dallas would surround himself with people he didn't like, contrary to popular belief. i think that applies to girlfriends and relationships as well. the man is blunt (sometimes overwhelmingly so) and he's not the type of guy to skirt around his dislike for you. if he doesn't like you, he will tell you to your face.

⊹ with that in mind, if you find yourself being a lucky one, just know dallas isn't the person to win a boyfriend of the year award. due to how he grew up, words aren't his strong suit. most of the time, his actions are the best you're going to get. like any other boyfriend, he has his moments but he does try his best.

⊹ you could’ve sworn dallas was spider-man with the way he always knew where you were or if you were walking alone. it was always like his dally senses were going off. he’ll sneak up behind you, giving you the scare of a lifetime, sometimes he’ll even catcall you just to see your reaction (before you realize who it was coming from.)

⊹ dallas always calls you sweetheart, gorgeous, babe, and baby.

⊹ if you’re a soc, with your own little car, dallas definitely loves to drive around town with you. the radio blasting, windows and hood down, his hand resting on your thigh or the head of your seat. 

⊹ if you’re a greaser, you two are definitely menaces on any form of public transportation. dallas 100% gets a kick out of hearing you giggle, squeal, and squirm as he tickles you in the back of the bus, and how red your face becomes when you realize everyone is staring at you two.

⊹ if you do smoke, dallas is always bumming a smoke from you or snagging one from your bag without you looking. he won’t share a cigarette with anyone besides you (because most of the time, they are yours). 

⊹ if you don’t smoke, dallas appreciates it when you sit outside with him on the curtis household’s porch, keeping him company underneath his arm. he’s very mindful when he smokes, ensuring the blow it in the opposite direction but every once and a while the wind will blow it right back, causing a chuckle to leave dallas’s mouth. 

⊹ dallas absolutely adores seeing you in his clothes. not that he’s said anything, but his actions speak louder than his words. he’ll randomly throw random articles of his clothing at you, like his jacket, a t-shirt, sweatpants, no explanation. maybe his dally senses were going off again. 

⊹ he’s given you his st. christopher’s necklace and he one hundred percent noticed the one time when you forgot to put it back on after a day at the pool. 

⊹ dallas is 50/50 when it comes to pda, he could live with or without it. the majority of the time, his hand is placed on your lower back, damn near holding your ass, as he guides you through buck merrill's bar— an arm slung around your shoulders or waist, while he mingles around the bar or wherever you two may be—  his hand on your thigh, softly rubbing it while he talks to whoever— and maybe a quick peck on the cheek in front of the gang and his friends, but never a full on makeout, that's between you two, and you two only.

⊹ dallas gives the best piggy back rides. end of. 

⊹  dallas loves having his back rubbed. his mom used to rub his back to help him sleep at night but after he went to jail for the first time, he grew to miss his mothers back rubs. you had no idea about any of this until he made an off hand comment about how he slept horribly one night without them— he absolutely just melts when you scratch his head.

⊹ dallas hates spiders, which you find absolutely hilarious every time he catches a glimpse of one and screams “OH MY GOD, (name) THERE IS A HUGE FUCKIN' SPIDER IN HERE.” and begs and begs you to come kill it, but you always catch it to taunt him with— “he ain't gonna hurt you. he's a harmless little guy, dal.” “a harmless little guy my ass, i've seen one of those kill a guy before."

⊹ dallas thinks he has the best taste in everything (movies, music, foods, etc.) but in all reality, he has the worst taste. never mention this to him, otherwise he will talk about how “your taste is just as bad.” at least the feeling is mutual? 

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Darry slams the phone down a little harder than he means to, clatterin' it against the wall 'n the pleasant everythin' is just fine voice falls away immediately.

"Everyone with a rap sheet not biologically related to me better start cleanin' or beat it now." Everyone who'd been piled up loungin' on the couch is suddenly on their feet.

"What's goin' on, Dar?" Soda 'n Pony both don't have to ask, jumpin' over each other sprintin' down the hall 'n throwin' the door open so hard it slams against the wall. Clothes fly hodge podge out into the hall, hittin' the wall 'n pilin' on the floor.

"Child fuckin' services are makin' an unexpected call the bastards." Dallas makes a sympathetic sound but grabs Johnny's collar 'n pulls him towards the door. Johnny sighs 'n digs his heels in, jarrin' Dally as he stops. He jerks his head at the laundry room 'n Dallas groans but follows him, both hastily foldin' the pile of laundry Darry had been cajolin' Pony into for two days.

"Oh shit man." Two jumps on top of the couch, flickin' his knife out 'n usin' it to unscrew the traffic signs Steve, Dallas, Two, 'n Soda had stolen months ago 'n Darry had been diligently ignorin' ever since.

"Where's the vacuum?" Pony reappears in the living room, eyes wide. Soda lurches around behind him, head 'n shoulders completely hidden behind the pile of dirty clothes.

"Closet, I'll get it, Pone." Steve ducks behind him, rippin' the closest door 'n yankin' the vacuum from its dusty home.

"Wait no- I got it-"

"Ponyboy Michael why don't you focus on doin' the dishes like you were supposed to do last night." Darry's frantically yankin' windows open to air out the house, which smells a little too much like an ashtray for comfort.

"But I-"

"Pony c'mon." Soda shifts the laundry to one arm 'n grabs Pony by the front of the shirt, draggin' him into the kitchen.

Two finally gets the sign out of the wall, shovin' it under the couch to hide it 'n runnin' into the kitchen to grab a couple of the sketches Pony's done that Darry has pinned to the fridge to cover the screw holes.

"Pony, why are their unrolled cigs under your bed?" Steve shouts 'n Darry watches Pony cringe through the doorway from where he's tryin' to make the mess of shoes 'n coats by the doorway look more presentable.

"Ponyboy Michael we talked about you rollin' your own goddamn kools." Steve snickers 'n Pony stops lookin' at Darry with big, pleadin' eyes to look outlandishly pissed.

"Go get 'em, Glory God, we gotta get rid of 'em." Pony ducks past Darry, not fully managin' to avoid the whack on the back of the head Darry sends him.

Pony disappears into his room 'n they can all hear them get in a couple solid hits back 'n forth. "Ponyboy Michael 'n Steven Thomas we do not have time for this." There's a brief pause 'n then a stingin' slap. "Ohh, Steven Thomas Randle if that leaves a goddamn mark I'm takin' it out of your ass." Pony unsuccessfully tries to hide his snort behind a cough 'n reluctantly shuffles back out, droppin' the cigs into Darry's hand. He shoves the whole mess deep into his pocket 'n clips Pony upside the head again.

"Anyone else have any illegal shit they'd like to turn in while we're on the topic?" Darry glances up 'n finds five pairs of deeply guilty eyes peerin' back at him. "Oh my God."

"Look, you have to promise not to get ma-"

"So, uh-"

"Man, maybe-"

"Everyone shut up. I'm goin' to close my eyes for thirty goddamn seconds 'n if it is out of my house by then I won't say anythin'." Darry presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, tries not to think about the poundin' migraine flutterin' in his temples.

Both the back door 'n front door slam 'n at least four pairs of feet hit the ground runnin'. Glory almighty, he didn't even want to know.

The kitchen tap flips on 'n he listens as Johnny goes to join Pony, flyin' through the pile of dishes. The door to Steve's beater slams closed 'n the four delinquents of the hour file back into the house.

Darry drops his hands from his eyes 'n shoots Two, Soda, Dallas, 'n Steve a glare that says we'll be talkin' about this later. Most of them at least have the decency to drop their eyes to the floor.

"Alright, someone's gotta straighten up this fuckin' living room, one of you needs to go get the beer cans off my lawn, 'n I need two of you to run down to the corner store 'n get some groceries so our fridge doesn't look like y'all ate me out of house 'n home."

"I'll go get the fallen soldiers, they're prob'ly all mine anyways." Two ducks back out the door with a sheepish grin, catchin' the screen door so it doesn't come off the hinges.

"Me 'n Soda can go get the groceries, we can take the beater." Steve fishes his keys out with one hand 'n grabs Soda by the shirt front with the other.

"Oh, nuh-uh. With my luck, you two would get so distracted I wouldn't see you until three hours after the lady leaves. Soda, you get started on the livin' room. Steve 'n Dallas go get the food. 'N take the truck. At this rate, your beater wouldn't start 'n you'd get stranded in the parkin' lot."

Steve shrugs a shoulder, takes the keys 'n Master Card Darry tosses him 'n Dallas nods, both of them peelin' back out the door. Soda pouts but goes to start pickin' up the clutter without a fight.

Lord, if only they were this agreeable all the time.

Pony 'n Johnny report back to Darry, shakin' the water from the dishes off their hands. "What else do you need, Dar?" Johnny wipes the back of his hands on his jeans, 'n glances around for another job.

"Yeah, Johnnycakes, can you help me with dinner? I want somethin' on that table when they show." Johnny nods 'n Darry ruffles his hair affectionately. "Pony, go get in that shower. You look like you just rolled around in the dirt." 'N he's not even that far off. He's got a smudge of ink right across his nose from whatever he'd been workin' on. Pony scowls but turns 'n goes for the bathroom.

Darry waits until he's shut the door 'n then follows Johnny into the kitchen. "Hey, wanna make that casserole they liked last time?" Leave it to Johnny to remember what meal the child services workers had liked.

"Nah, can't make them think we're doin' anythin' to fancy for 'em."

"Gotcha," Johnny nods 'n opens the cabinet, "so, pasta." Darry chuckles, rufflin' his hair again 'n fallin' in beside him to start the water boilin' on the stove.

At some point durin' their meal prep Dallas 'n Steve return, hoistin' five bags between the two of them, frantically arrangin' 'em in the icebox. Pony slides in, takin' over stirrin' the sauce, hair ungreased 'n curlin' around his ears. Darry drops a kiss to his temple 'n slicks his bangs away from his eyes. Soda takes his place in the bathroom, the shower turnin' back on.

Before Darry realizes it, dinner is plated on the table, the sink is empty, 'n the house is as close to spotless as it ever gets. Relief 'n exhaustion hit Darry like a freight train. They make quick work of packagin' up plates for Two, Steve, Dallas, 'n Johnny 'n Darry squeezes shoulders 'n musses up hair 'n makes them all promise to come back in two hours when the visit is done.

His stomach does an unpleasant twist when Steves's headlights swing out of the driveway. He hates these visits. He truly does. He runs a hand up 'n down his neck nervously, glances at the clock.

Pony's head nestles against his side 'n Darry drops an arm around him, pullin' him in. "We'll be alright, right Dar?" And Darry does what he does best: sound more confident than he feels.

"Yeah, kiddo. We'll be just fine." Soda slides back down the hall in he socks, trippin' n' stumblin' like a foal. "Glory, Soda, please don't bust anythin' before the government folks get here."

"Aw, Dar, you're always ruinin' my fun." Soda grins his wide crooked smile 'n Darry feels Pony relax against his side.

"That's what they pay me for. Now, c'mon 'n eat before it gets cold." Pony pushes himself off Darry 'n Soda grabs him rufflin' his damp hair 'n makin' Pony hoot a laugh. They've just plopped down when there's a knock at the door.

All three of them whip around to look.

Darry shoots them a grin that he hopes doesn't look as nervous as he feels. He blows out a long breath, puts his hand on the knob to open the door, glancin' around one final time to make sure nothin' is out of place when his eyes fall on-. "Oh, glory." He reaches up beside the door 'n yanks out the knife Dallas had pinned the shoppin' list to the wall with. "What am I gonna do with y'all?"

"Keep us!" Soda hollers 'n Pony dissolves into giggles. Darry watches them for a moment, Soda's eyes flashin' 'n the sound of Pony's laugh.

"I'm gonna do my best." 'N he opens the door.

also a tag for being very sweet in the tags this is one of the fics I was cookin' up at work today more to come SOON @horsegirlsodapop ilyyy 😭🫶

[quizzicalwriter]

dally winston x virgin!reader who asks her boyfriend dally to be her first time

Sweet Thing

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Intimacy, intimacy, intimacy.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Kissing, touching, fingering. Inexperienced and slightly innocent reader. Loss of virginity.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.8k (I got carried away.)

You’d always been Dallas’s favorite preoccupation, distracting him from everything else in life. The sweet thing he carted around whenever he hung around with the boys or found himself in the drunken den that was Buck’s on a Saturday night. You’d be there, propped on his lap with his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

Not that you didn’t have anything to say besides sitting there, hell, the guys loved you. You could hold your own when it came to their wit and it made you a worthy companion for Dallas in their eyes, not to mention your inexplicable ability to put up with his shit when nobody else had before - or seemingly nobody else had been given the chance.

Normally Dallas would’ve gone for girls at the drive-in, greaser girls, or any woman he could get his hands on or who could handle his banter for longer than a minute without giving him the back of their hand. You weren’t one of them, and frankly, that terrified Dallas. There was a part of him that wanted to pull away, push you away in hopes that he’d save himself the pain of heartbreak later on he’d convinced himself he’d suffer. But he always stopped himself whenever you found yourself in his arms, gazing up at him with your doe-like eyes.

It was a difficult thing, Dallas being intimate. He was born and raised in a constant battle for survival, not showing love or producing it, but you made it easy. The longer you two had been together the longer he found himself wanting to keep you close, protect you from dangers he seemed to see everywhere. The worries you once had about him leaving eventually faded, the look in his eyes as he gazed at you whenever you laid in his arms far outweighed any ill thoughts you’d suffered with.

The only way you could describe it was ardent, laced with a deep desire that you’d never seen before in his brown eyes. A deep desire that would show itself in the bounds of the night after the two of you had disappeared together, culminating in you on his lap in his bed, hips rocking together as he kissed along your throat and down onto your chest. Or with your legs wrapped loosely around his hips, him grinding into you, you whispering sweet moans into his mouth spurring him on to do more, touch you more, please you more.

Dallas never pushed, he was always understanding whenever you pulled away. Of course, he’d have to adjust himself in his jeans, but he’d quickly pull you to his chest and press delicate kisses along your face, murmuring how much you mean to him, something he didn’t dare do in front of others. That side of Dallas was for you, nobody else, so you treasured it whenever he showed it.

On one particular Saturday night in the midst of autumn, you found yourself propped up against Dallas’s side on one of the couches in Buck’s bar, legs bent up at your chest as you fiddled with frayed denim at the end of your pant leg. Dallas was in a debate with a random man, someone he seemed to know well enough to bullshit with, talking about how the two had snagged something good off a rich man’s car not too long ago.

If it hadn’t been for the incessant country music Buck played when it rounded two in the morning you’d likely have fallen asleep against Dallas, but the occasional jump of a new song kept you jerking awake, a tired pout situating itself on your features as you rested your cheek against Dallas’s shoulder.

“Looks like your miss is real tired.” The man stated, taking a long puff from his cigar before gesturing toward you with the end of it, a snicker following his words as he propped himself up against the end of his pool cue. Dallas quirked a brow, looking down at you where you were tucked into his side with a hidden smile.

“Guess she is.” He murmured, not saying anything more beyond that before moving to prop himself up straighter, hand smoothing down your back as he looked down at you. “Tired?”

You weren’t tired, tired. More so bored, the constant scent of smoke and alcohol wasn’t helping the boredom or the budding headache in the back of your skull. But knowing if you said anything other than ‘yes’ at that moment would result in another hour downstairs, you nodded, feigning a yawn as you let your eyes flutter deceptively.

Dallas caught on, but he didn’t say anything. Instead choosing to click his tongue against his teeth as he played along, shrugging as he moved to stand. “I’ll see you later, man.” He stated, causing the older man to shrug himself before dispersing off into the crowd. Dallas turned to you, helping you to your feet before leading you up the stairs.

“Lyin’ is a sin, y’know that right?” He chuckled out, quiet enough for only you to hear as he nudged open his bedroom door with the toe of his shoe, causing you to laugh yourself and avert your gaze from his as you moved into the familiar room.

“Didn’t lie.” You mumbled out, another pout crossing your lips as you kicked off your shoes, making your way to his bed. “Real tired, Dally.”

“Sure, doll.” He snickered from the corner of the room as you made yourself comfortable on the bed, the familiar metallic clang of his belt hitting the wooden floor echoing throughout the room soon after.

He moved beside you then, letting out a sigh as he wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest. The sound of country music and clattering pool balls still echoed from downstairs, but the only thing you could bring yourself to focus on was the feeling of Dallas’s knee between your legs.

It was an innocent move, both of you slept with your legs intertwined, it felt comfortable given how small his bed was. As he shifted to get more comfortable his knee pressed harder against your clothed cunt, causing your cheeks to flush red as you choked back a whine. Dallas stiffened, breath catching in his throat as he took a moment to gauge your reaction before moving his knee again.

“Dal-“ You whined, hand moving down in between your legs as you buried your face into the pillow you two shared, his scent lingering heavily on the fabric doing nothing to quell the growing ache between your legs.

“What, doll? Feel good?” He whispered, words ghosting across the nape of your neck, causing your back to arch involuntarily as you slowly nodded. His hand smoothed down your front, bumping over the fabric of your shirt and jeans as he slowly moved to cup your sex, ever so gently applying pressure as he rocked himself against you.

You felt yourself soaking your underwear with arousal the longer he rutted against you, his fingers pressing against your cunt through your jeans as he did. A familiar sensation bloomed in your lower stomach, one that left you clenching your thighs around his palm as you tried to quell the growing ache.

“Gotta tell me what you want.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, trailing a litany of open-mouthed kisses along the curvature of your throat, pressure from his fingers increasing against your cunt. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Fuck, Dallas, just fuck me.” You whined, embarrassment over the prospect of voicing your needs soon being overweighed by the sheer need you felt for him, your hand moved to grasp at his forearm as you begged. “Please, Dal.”

That seemed to be all he needed as he moved to sit up on his knees, pressing another kiss to your jaw before pulling his shirt up and over his head. You laid there, lips parted as you watched him undress, feeling your blush spread from your cheeks to the top of your chest. You wanted to touch him, feel him, kiss him - so you did. You moved to sit up, folding your legs underneath yourself as you moved to press a kiss to his lips, hands moving to cup his jaw, only pulling away when you felt that familiar pull to touch him elsewhere.

You’d seen him without a shirt, but you’d never truly been able to admire him until now. Your hands wavered over his body, fingertips dipping in between the rivets of his toned skin, along healed scars, a faint bruise that still lingered under the left side of his ribcage. Above it all you found yourself fascinated with the way his chest rose with each breath and the small freckles that lined his skin. They reminded you of the ones he’d gotten from his time in the sun that plastered themselves against his cheekbones and upper shoulders.

Dallas let you look, eyes fluttering whenever your hands would drift farther south than before. You could hear him taking in shuddering breaths, chest catching every few minutes as though he were teetering on the edge of self-control. He raised his hands then, looking to you for approval before he lifted your shirt up and over your head, bundling the soft fabric in his hands before letting it fall to the floor.

You reached your hands behind yourself, unclasping your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders until your bra collapsed into your lap, exposing your breasts to him. Dallas had seen women before, he’d seen plenty, but none of them had ever had the effect you currently had on him. He felt his throat dry, brown eyes flickering between your chest and your eyes before he moved to gently lay you back against his bed, situating himself over top of you.

“You want this?” His words were hushed as his hand drifted down over your bare stomach, slowly unbuttoning your jeans as he kept his gaze locked on your face, watching for any sign of discomfort or worry. When you responded with a nod and a quiet, “I want this.” He smiled, a soft laugh leaving him as he leaned down to press a kiss to your lips.

You’d envisioned losing your virginity hundreds of times, a perfect encapsulation of what sex had to be painted in your mind, vivid and blaring. But this was so different, the way Dallas was so gentle, not afraid to laugh if something awkward happened, both of you sharing the pure moment of intimacy with smiles on your face. Nothing could’ve ever prepared you for it and that somehow made it all so much better.

As he slid your jeans off your legs he smiled up at you, a soft look on his face as he tossed the denim to the floor, moving back up to place another languid kiss to your lips. His hand moved between your thighs, fingers splaying against your cunt through your underwear, a groan passing his lips when he felt just how wet you’d become.

“Dallas, please-“ You begged, thighs trembling as he continued to tease you through your underwear. He relented, placing a gentle kiss to your jaw before moving to sit back up, slowly sliding your underwear down and off your body before discarding them to the floor as well.

“So beautiful.” He murmured, eyes wandering over your form laid in front of him, hands smoothing up and down your sides as he took it all in. “So fuckin’ beautiful, doll.”

You watched with bated breath as he slipped his jeans off, kicking his boxers off along with them. His length was bigger than you’d anticipated, only having felt the shape of it when you’d ground down against him during your frequent make-out sessions. As if sensing your apprehension he moved back over you, hand moving to cup your cheek as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“It won’t hurt, alright? We’ll take it slow, real slow.” He whispered, voice soothing as he helped you to wrap your legs around his hips, your heels subtly digging into the flesh of his lower back. He smiled down at you, eyes voicing a silent question if you were alright to which you quickly nodded back, a smile upon your face as well.

He braced himself on his arm, face close to yours as he slid a hand down between you, helping to guide himself inside before sliding his fingers up to slowly circle your clit. A moan left you at the feeling, leaving you clenching around his tip, the feeling causing him to bite back a grunt as he slowly began pushing in.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He groaned out, brows screwing together as he pushed himself to the hilt inside of your welcoming cunt, pausing in his movements to give you a chance to grow used to the feeling. “Doin’ so good, baby, so good.”

You’d heard horror stories from your friends, tales of how their first time had been painful and rushed, but this felt the complete opposite. While it took you a moment to grow used to the feeling of him inside of you, it was an incredibly welcome feeling. You could feel yourself clenching down around him, his fingers circling your clit only adding to the feeling building in your stomach.

“Dal- Dal, move.” You whispered out, voice hoarse as you grasped at his shoulders, desperate for him to move. He snickered at your pleading tone, slowly pulling himself out before pushing back in, slowly and deeply fucking you as he whispered words of praise into the crook of your neck, pressing kisses against your damp skin whenever he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your warmth surrounding him.

You could hear your wetness coating his cock with each thrust of his hips, his fingers slick against your clit. The room was filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, broken-off moans, and whispered words. Your thighs tightened against him as he adjusted himself, lifting himself a bit, unknowingly brushing against a spot within you that you’d never known existed - one that pulled a drawn-out moan from your chest.

“Yeah?” He asked through a smirk, hand moving down to cup your hip as he pushed back into you, hitting that very same spot. You could hardly think, let alone breathe as he fucked himself into you, fingers working at your clit as he angled himself to hit that spot over, and over. “Taking me so good, doll.” He grunted out, grip tightening on your hip as he picked up his pace.

Your hand shot down to his wrist as he continued toying with your clit, eyes fluttering shut as you felt your orgasm building to its peak in your lower stomach, the feeling causing you to rock your hips in tandem with his thrusts. The look on your face was enough to make him groan, his hand moving from your hip to your jaw as he tilted your face to look at him.

“Look at me when you cum on my cock, baby.” He murmured, voice soft yet authoritative as he slammed into you. As soon as you opened your eyes he moved his hand, pressing it against your lower stomach as he continued fucking himself into you. It felt as though he were pushing you down onto him, that spot that nearly blinded you with pleasure constantly being rutted against by his cock.

All you could muster was a weak, “F-fuck,” as you came undone, back arching off the bed as you whined out his name. He didn’t stop, stifling a groan at the way you writhed beneath him as he felt his orgasm building. Once you started swatting at his fingers that still circled your clit he moved his hand, choosing to grab the other side of your hip, effectively propping you up against him as he fucked you.

The pace was near brutal, moans forced from your body as your breasts bounced with each thrust. You couldn’t focus, still reeling from your last orgasm as he continued fucking you into oversensitivity-fueled bliss. You could feel his thumbs pressing into your hipbones, short curses slipping past his lips.

“Gonna cum, baby.” He grunted, pulling out of you a second later, spilling his cum across your lower stomach. His chest heaved, cheeks flushed red as he pumped himself through his orgasm. You could only watch in a haze of your own, still catching your breath as he looked up at you, that familiar crooked smile taking over his features as he moved on top of you once more.

“Did so good, doll. Real good.” He murmured against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your skin between each sentence. “You feel alright? Need me to get you something?” He asked after a moment, a hint of concern evident in his tone that made you smile as you shook your head.

“It felt perfect, Dal. I’m alright.” You whispered back, turning over onto your side to face him, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning up after to press a kiss to his waiting lips. “Perfect.”

A/N: Thank you for reading if you made it this far, or even if you just skimmed it over - either way I appreciate the interactions! As always you can find my work over on my ao3 under the user “Unscriptural.” Thank you anon for the request! (Sorry for the late posting, or early? Wherever you are? I finished editing it and didn’t want to queue it, so here is your daily scheduled reading material.)

[perfeqt]

Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about.

Winston Churchill

[avroravia]

spoiled!actress! reader freaking out because her ‘d’ necklace broke and bodyguard! dallas has to calm her down :(((

warnings. -> oral sex (m!receiving), dirty talk, aftercare, dallas calls reader ‘broad.’

pt. 1 here! <3

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“alright, which one y’want?” dallas murmured, cigarette dangling from his lips while numerous shopping bags with items worth more than his life hung from his arms.

the two of you stood in front of the jewelry section inside of a pretty little boutique downtown. he watched as your eyes skimmed throughout the seemingly-endless racks of assorted jewelry.

your brows were furrowed in focus, trying to find a necklace that looked as close to the one dallas had originally bought you as possible. manicured fingers picked at the hem of your skirt, trying to find the perfect replacement.

“i don’t know dal’… can’t find anythin’ like the one you got me…” you sighed, kitten heels tapping against the glossy white tile of the store.

“look, doll, forget about the one that snapped, yeah?” dallas hummed. “how ‘bout this one?”

his calloused fingers grabbed onto the first necklace he saw with a ‘d.’ dallas handed it to you, and you examined it. the initial itself wasn’t gold like your old one, but rather a pearlescent material. sure, it was pretty, but it was way too impractical.

“i dunno, dally… pearl doesn’t go with everything.” you insisted, setting it back on the rack. “need a necklace that goes with all my jewelry, so i can wear it everyday.”

“…right.” dallas agreed, acting like he had a clue in the world to what any of that meant.

he had observed that your nose was beginning to twitch, brows were furrowed tights, arms were crossed, and it seemed the thumping of your kitten heels was going faster by the second. dallas could tell you were close to throwing another tantrum, and he really didn’t feel like having to deal with it in public.

“doll, let’s jus’ head home, alright? i’ll find sum’ like it later.” dallas exhaled, obviously exasperated. “…’sides, you cleared out every damn store here. gonna get a call from the bank t’night tellin’ you someone stole your fuckin’ card.”

you only giggled at his words, swinging your little pink clutch back onto your shoulder as the two of you walked out of the boutique. the store associate thanked you both for visiting, before the two of you stepped back outside.

after hours of browsing, trying on clothes, and swiping your card too many times to count, the both of you were spent. as the two of you walked back to the car, he tuned out the sounds of the bustling city and people around him. instead dallas just watched you, gaze intense as you sat down in your little pink corvette, reapplying sticky pink lipgloss using the hand mirror in your purse.

“this whatchu needed, yeah?” dallas murmured, thumb rubbing your cheek bone as you bobbed your head up and down on his length.

dallas was sitting on the edge of your bed, legs apart with you sitting in between them. obviously, dallas had gotten a little carried away seeing you try on your pretty new panties.

“no wonder you’re all worked up…” dallas whispered. “haven’t laid you in a while, huh?”

you nodded your head ‘yes,’ never breaking eye contact with him. the gesture was enough to make him grin.

your hands were resting on his knees, and you looked up at dallas as you swirled your tongue around his tip. tears pricked at the corners of your eyes whenever you took him a little too far and his head kissed the back of your throat.

the combination of a few more thrusts and your cheeks hollowing around his cock was enough, and dallas quietly groaned as he shot hot ribbons of his cum down your throat.

as you stood up from your spot in between his legs, dallas grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap. you instantly snuggled tight into his arms, letting his body envelop your own while your head rested comfortably on his chest

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as dallas held you, pressing a gentle kiss onto your forehead. his fingers ran all across your skin, from rubbing circles on your hips with his thumbs to holding your shoulders.

“listen, i’ll go talk to tim tomorrow-” dallas broke the silence, peering down at you, head resting on his chest. “-y’still got the necklace n’ the charm, right?”

“mhm.” you hummed with a soft nod, pressing a soft kiss onto his chest.

“good- think he’s got a buddy who works fixin’ up metal…” dallas wondered aloud. “he could probably fix up that lil’ necklace o’yours.”

after murmuring a quiet ‘thank you,’ the two of you fell into a comfortable silence once more. dallas cupped your cheek with the palm of his hand, delicately tracing your temple with his thumb. just as you were about to succumb to sleep, you heard him start speaking again.

“christ, i got the fuckin’ pickiest broad of all time, don’t i?” dallas grumbled. “all this damn fussin’ over a lil’ necklace…”

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taglist -> @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @johnnycadesslut, @twobitsblade, @browneyebby / @isasweetie, @glxsyymads, @mystiqueonfleek007, @beyondbluess, @johnnycadesmuse, @planetscobell, & @kahkie. (send an ask or dm to be added! <3)

[only-lonely-star]

ok so basically. after a particularly rough and unfair rumble with the socs, not only is dallas exhausted and sore but hes acting all soft and clingy. when he showed up at your door all he wanted was for his girl to hold him. but he is a mess and hes covered in dirt, blood and sweat so fem reader suggests that he takes a shower but hes like “im tired…” and she suggests that she gets in to help him (COMPLETELY DOMESTIC NOT IN A FREAKY WAY) and dallas is too tired and touch starved to complain so instead of a cocky remark he agrees and reader basically just helps him clean up and get to bed. is this too much?😭 im sorry if it is!!! u 100% do not have to do it!! but ilysm and thank you!!!❤️❤️❤️

🫧⋆｡˚ Bruised and Bare ˚ ｡⋆ 🫧

Warnings - Slight pain inflicted on Dallas. Mentions of blood and bruises. Showering together. Established relationship between fem!reader and Dallas Winston.

Summary - Dallas comes to you for some comfort after a rough fight with some Soc boys. You offer to join him in a hot shower to relax and unwind :)

Author’s Note - I love you too, Anon, thank you for your request! 😼😼 Let me just say… DAMN IT FEELS GOOD TO BE BACK TO WRITING. The post-meeting-C.-Thomas-Howell depression is so real and hit me so strong. This is a rather short one, I apologize. I fear if I didn’t get to these requests soon enough then I’d procrastinate even more. I have like four WIPs right now, they’ll be out soon y’all. I love you all SO much, enjoy!!!! 🙈🙈

Word Count - 830

⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄ ⋆.ೃ࿔.𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･༄

The sudden knock on your door hadn’t taken you by surprise as you sauntered towards the tall, wooden frame. It was late. Visitors at this hour usually resulted in your rebellious boyfriend, Dallas, looking for a safe haven to spend the night at. It was no surprise when you pulled the doorknob and saw Dallas with a look of defeat and exhaustion in his eyes.

He was hunched over, his shoulders slouched to a new level of low. The boy’s eyes revealed he had endured a tough night already, but the scattered bruises in shades of red and purple told you the full story. “Come on and let me in, just let me cool off for a minute,” he pleaded, his eyes lifeless.

“Oh, Dallas, you went looking for trouble again, didn’t you?” you spoke with playful sarcasm, pulling him inside by the stretched-out collar of his tee.

As Dallas stumbled inside, his boots left footprints of mud across the welcome mat. “No, actually,” he retorted with equal sarcasm, “I took a few blows from them Soc guys we saw that day in the park. I thought I could take three, but hell- I guess not.” Dallas glanced down at his raggedy shirt, one that couldn’t be saved now that it was ripped and torn in just about every place imaginable.

Frowning, you extended a hand to cup his cheek. He looked absolutely defeated - a rare sighting for such a well-known fighter. He didn’t budge at the gentle touch, instead, he stepped forward and snaked his hands to rest on your hips idly. “I’m sorry, baby, c’mere,” you beckoned, gently stroking your thumb across his cheek.

Dallas obeyed, closing the distance between the two of you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, allowing his hand to press yours firmly against his cheek. His lips formed into a small pout. “It hurts, baby. Everywhere. We can just have an easy night and uh…chill in bed, how ‘bout that?”

You grimaced, pulling away slightly. “You ought to shower first, Dal, you ain’t staining my sheets with all that blood… and dirt…and whatever the hell that is,” you pointed to a smear of bright green across his white tee.

The groan Dallas let out was something else. He slouched further and shook your hips vigorously. “Come onnnn, I’m tired. I can’t- I can’t get a hug from my girl? Is that right? I come crawling to you for a simple hug and I can’t even get that?”

His little sob story wasn’t convincing you for shit. “Dallas, don’t hand me that. I’ll even step in with you, that way all you have to do is stand there.”

He shrugged. This was a win-win. He didn’t have to do a thing and on top of that, he got to spend time with you. “Thank you,” Dallas replied sincerely. You could tell right away he meant it, he needed this gentle form of care.

_________________________________________________

As you twisted the knob to adjust the water’s temperature, Dallas analyzed the markings on his cheekbones and under-eye area. His lip seemed to be busted up pretty well, along with a dark purple rim around his left cheekbone. He grinned, “Looks good, don’t it?”

Scoffing playfully, you ushered him closer, “Just get in.” Dallas slowly but surely trudged his way into the tub, standing under the shower head. With another twist, the hot water splashed down from the nozzle, running down his bruised back. His eyes shut instinctively as he felt around the air in front of him for your body. Following him inside, you grabbed the spare white washcloth which hung from the rack located just across the sink. You enclosed yourself inside as you pulled the shower curtain shut.

“Get my back first?” he requested with a soft smile. The exhaustion written on his face was clear as day, but he maintained a sincere tone when speaking with you.

“Yeah, I got you.” His shoulder blades were tense and stiff. The purple spotting along the more tender parts of his back caused a wince from the both of you. Dallas was tough, he’d never admit he’s truly hurt.

“Careful-,” he hissed with clenched teeth, stiffening as he felt your hand pressing the washcloth onto the sensitive area between his shoulders.

“Does that hurt, baby?” you drew back, hovering the dripping fabric over his body.

Dallas sighed meekly. While most was done to his face, he still had sore spots scattered throughout his entire body. “I’m sore all over darlin’, that’s why I just wanted to lay down.”

Feeling your heart clench out of sympathy, you kissed the tender spots along his spine. The steam emitted from the shower head provided the moist heat needed to soothe his aching body, much like your love for him. He found himself able to relax and wind down in the solace of your presence. Who would have thought that even Dallas Winston needed some tender love and care after all?

THANK YOU FOR READING!! YOU ARE THE BEST! ❤️‍🩹

[yourmusicmuse]

A headcanon I gained in the shower and haven't stopped giggling about:

Ponyboy is probably going through or about to go through puberty, and when his voice begins to crack due to his voice changing, the gang calls it "whinnies", as in the whinny of a horse.

God, the way that Pony HATES it. It's bad enough his voice is cracking in the first place!! He's tired your honor, let the horse jokes GO. But alas...they won't. No matter how many offended glares he gives.

[callme-holly]

I think you did something like this at one point but like reader who zones out a lot so Dallas has to get her attention but instead of head cannons like a lil one shot ykyk. IF NOT THAT'S TOTALLY FINE TYYYYYY

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 - 𝐝.𝐰

a/n: i was listening to the attatched song while writing this so its kinda soft. 💿 "Wonderful Girl" - Dion & The Belmonts

The night is quiet, the stars twinkling overhead like splatters across an inky canvas; it’s peaceful, far from the noise of daily life, far from the divide between socs and greasers, far from any expectations hanging over you. It’s just you and Dallas, sitting together on the hood of his car, both revelling in the moment. 

He’s got a cigarette between his lips, burning away slowly, smoke curling into the air as he takes long drags, holding for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. Normally, you’d complain, telling him to quit it, but right now, you’re lost in your own head, trying to keep up with the thoughts racing around your head. 

You don't even realise you've zoned out, staring into the distance blankly, barely registering the words Dallas is speaking, his words a lazy drawl as he takes another drag of his cigarette. It isn't until silence follows his words, silence that would usually be filled with your knowing response, that he takes any notice.

"Hey," he snaps his fingers in front of your face, causing your body to jolt back and your mind to clear. You glance over at him with a guilty expression. "What's going on in that head of yours, huh?" There's no malice in his tone, just pure teasing and curiosity that draws a shrug from you.

"Not much. Just  thinking about... stuff." 

Dallas raises an eyebrow. “Stuff?"  He smirks, taking another drag and flicking away the still smouldering butt. "Sounds really interesting."

You scoff, falling into his side and resting your head on his shoulder, allowing yourself to relax; some song is drifting steadily from the radio, some love song that makes the moment feel 10x softer. It's rare to get tender moments like this with Dallas, moments where he just relaxes, winds down, exposes a side to you that not many get to see.

"You gonna start payin' attention to me now, doll?"  He teases, nuzzling into your neck, his breath ghosting across your skin, lips grazing in a light, barely there kiss. 

You turn to face him, eyes filled with nothing but tenderness and awe for him,  lips curving upwards into a smile. You meet him halfway, lips grazing his, a gentle sigh leaving you as your hand tangles in your hair, his coming to rest on your hip, pulling you closer. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilting upwards and he lets out a laugh that has you pulling away with a pout. 

"What?"  You huff, playfully hitting his chest with your free hand, but he's grinning so wide, eyes glittering with amusement. He catches your hand, lacing your fingers together and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, that rare look in his appearing once more.

"Not zonin' out no more, are ya?" His voice rumbles through you like velvet, sending shivers running down your spine as he leans into you, nosing at your jawline. You lean into him, humming softly, smiling when his mouth finds its way onto yours again, hands gripping each other tighter. 

"Shut up..." you whisper, but you don't fight him any further as he pushes you gently backwards, settling further on the hood of the car. 

[kalied0skull]

in honor of 420 and 100 followers, i thought it'd be utmost appropriate to draw the curtis gang smoking straight ZAZA !

now playing: Let's Go Get Stoned – Sublime ♪

easter? whazzat. i dunno what EASTER is... i only know that it's fo' twen-tee baby!

★ ramble under the cut!

I don't condone weed usage under the age of 21, but i DO condone fictional characters gettin' a little high on the day of Mary Jane's birthday

fun fact it's actually my stoner grandmother's birthday today, so if it's your birthday on 420 today, you're cool and awesome and i wish you a happy birthday

anyways, for some background to this picture because for some reason my brain was making a fanfiction about these guys getting high while i was drawing:

two-bit brought the goods, dallas brought the bong, johnny rolled that shit.

ponyboy and soda BOTH had to beg darry to let them get high, to which darry begrudgingly obliged — so long as everyone stayed inside so they didn't get stuck in any trouble anywhere. and also he got high too. (it took a LOT of convicing though)

I've mentioned it before in my soda & steve smoking doodles, but I'm convinced they just get reaaaaaallly clingy with each other when high. and quiet. like, they're only whispering, and it's only to each other kind of quiet.

dallas is just there for the vibes, he's probably joking around with johnny because those two are the biggest stoners imaginable on the downlow, so everyone's fucked up n they're just straight chilling.

i can only imagine ponyboy as getting the WORST hypersensitivity when he gets high, feeling literally everything and hearing too much and seeing the colors and lights much too bright for his liking. it's like the whole world gets louder, and he HATES it. but thankfully for his silly friend johnny—the only guy that he can have a comfortable high around—he's doing moderately okay.

two-bit is simply a show off, no other way to put it. and he ABSOLUTELY REGRETS IT TOMORROW. getting cross-faded is always a terrible idea, and he KNOWS it. but is that stopping him? hell nah. and dallas does it too. but dallas isn't as effected because he can handle his weight n' knows his limits. TWOBIT DOESN'T 💀

in my eyes, everytime darry gets high he either ends up across town or he ends up having an existential crisis. in this scene, he's having an existential crisis. probably about paul. he's most definitely thinking about all of his deepest regrets and deepp rooted trauma in that chair. is he saying shit about it? nnnnnope.

these guys are so ridiculous — i could've done something serious for the 100 followers special, but i saw this as a PERFECT opportunity when i realized what day it was. thankyou to all the people who like the stuff i post, this one goes out to you !!! 🫵😼

genuinely could not be happier to have a little community to myself to run over to every day n just Spit Shit and everyone goes "Hell Yeah." it's so fun and so cool and awawawaaahhh I couldn't be happier to have moots and lovely oomfs :D

also, unrelated, but i actually do not associate the song with the scene happening here just because the lyrics aren't matching well BUT the title was fitting, so... (idek if people actually listen to the songs i list??? i just do it for fun anyways, it's a really nice divider imo)

ant-ee-who. i really loved this drawing, even though i major rushed it in the span of [checks timelapse] around 2 hours. :3c

[stay-close]

Never give up on something that you can't go a day without thinking about.

Winston Churchill

[marmaladedcroissant]

Mentions of SH!

Something something, Darry being so scared of falling asleep and having a nightmare that he does literally anything to avoid it. Pinches himself, hits his head, burns himself, drinks an ungodly amount of coffee, pokes himself with a sewing needle, anything, absolutely anything to stay awake. The nightmares can’t reach you if you never sleep.

Ignore the corpse standing in the corner, it’s not real. Ignore how it laughs and chokes on its own blood, ignore how it looks horrifyingly close to his mother, ignore the concerned glances from the gang. Ignore the murmuring and muttering of his brothers, growing more and more concerned (scared, maybe? (Scared of him?)). Don’t look at how vivid it is, at how real the bodies and the bugs writhing under his skin are, ignore how he can see them moving under the surface, how each time he coughs all he sees is the spray of blood and bugs tumbling out of his mouth.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

"I'm here to pick up Dallas." Darry runs a hand absently up the back of his neck, looks past the desk and into the hall where they keep the cells.

He'd gotten the call half an hour ago in the middle of dinner but he'd had a sinkin' feelin' since this mornin'. Dallas had been gone when Darry had woken up, apparently still hacked off over a fight they'd had last night. He should have known really. Dallas' anger was visceral and volatile. An argument with one of the gang easily rolled into a multi-day affair endin' in a trip to the station. Like clock work.

"Last name?" Darry gives himself a shake and returns to the current moment. He blinks at the man behind the counter once, twice. "Dallas? His last name?" He prompts and Darry bites back on his annoyance.

"Winston." He shoves aside his instinct to ask new around here? "Dallas Winston."

The man looks back down over his paperwork and Darry clenches and unclenches the bottom of his shirt to keep himself from reachin' up to grab the back of his neck again. He was gonna throttle that kid. He means it.

"Sorry, I don't have a Winston here." That snaps Darry back and he cocks his head to the side. He'd known the cop that had called him. There was no way they had released the kid without it bein' directly into Darry's hands. "I got a Dallas here but the name's different."

"Blonde kid? Seventeen? Real blue eyes?" Darry ticks off Dallas' most identifiable features without listin' asshole kid with a death wish and an urge to pluck his older brother's last nerve.

The man looks back at his papers and nods to himself. "Nah, that's definitely him. Sorry sir, when we picked him up he was pretty sloshed. Must have mixed himself up. Gave us the name Curtis. Dallas Curtis."

Darry feels the anger drain right out of him. Glory.

He signs the paper the cop shoves towards him with a sigh he doesn't really mean, "That's him. That's my kid brother."

Maybe Darry would still throttle him, but no one would mention it if he held him extra close tonight. And they wouldn't talk about the fact Dallas hadn't touched a drop all afternoon.