My boyfriends pretty cool (Dallas winston x reader)
A/n; I love the outsiders btw so do me a favour and write more fics bitchesssssss
summary; car sex with dallas winston ;)
pairings; Dallas x reader
Dallas likes danger. It calls to him like some strange siren and he can’t help but fall head over heels in love with it. he’s like a danger-magnet, if that makes sense. and you’ve always liked the bad boys, the ones who smoke cigarettes and like to drink and party ‘till they drop, the boys from the ‘bad’ side of town that fuck any girl they can, and the ones that you really should stay away from. You like danger, and Dallas likes you. But it scares you to hell when he drives.
dally gets roadrage. he tries to keep calm and cool but he can’t, his brow furrows and he frowns, and he makes you light him another cigarette. He likes to touch when he drives at night, lazy hand over the steering wheel, cigarette hanging limply from his lip, the other hand tucked neatly between your thighs. His hand tightens over the steering wheel when he glances down appraisingly, brow raised when his other hand shifts your skirt up a little.
“Dally!” You cry, swatting him away as you go pink. His jaw ticks and he presses your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. His knuckles are white, translucent over bone. “C’mon baby.” he murmurs, leaning back against the seat. His hand delves deeper, spreading your legs. he’s a godawful tease.
There’s something illicit though, about doing something like this at night and on the road. He’d a menace and the worst boy you could ever hope to dream of, but you really fuckin’ love him. you’ll bet he loves you too, even a little. he pulls over and you wanna cry to god, halleluja, fuck yeah!
You hate when he drives like this, dangerous and disastrous and you know one day he’s gonna get himself hurt. He pulls over to the side of the road, the dusty single-track road, half-hidden in the shadows because no-one will see you. no one will see two dumbasses fuckin’ each other in the backseat of some car a delinquent fixed up, cigarette hanging from his lip.
He flicks the cigarette away. “C’mere darling.” He murmurs, smiling a little. he manhandles you, gripping you by the hips and pulling you onto his lap. He’s hard beneath the denim and you grind against his hips, as his knee comes up to wedge between your thighs, teasing you. “Oh, dally.” You sigh, kissing him. He laughs behind your hungry mouth and you grip at his brown hair, tugging him closer, teasing him like he does with you. it’s cramped and uncomfortable and it’s not so cold anymore, but you really wish dally would just hurry up.
His hands are on your ass and he squeezes it roughly, smacking one cheek as he sinks his teeth into your plush lower lip. “Someone's frustrated.” He grunts, hands tightening on your hips. You can’t even think of an insult back though. Dally chuckles cruelly and the drivers seat slides back, creaking as it does. You tumble forwards, moaning into his mouth when he gets his hand beneath your skirts, itching to take and to take, to give something back. “Fuck, you’re wet.”
Your eyelashes flutter, grinning when he slips a hand into your underwear, plain white cotton, nothing fancy. His thumb grazes your clit and you jolt towards him, as his hips buck. you grind on his fingers. “Needy little slut.” He spits, his words low and dirty and mean. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”
his cock is hard against his stomach. He grips you by the waist and pulls you down onto his cock, brows furrowed, teeth catching your lip when you whine. He smooths the damp, sweaty hair from your eyes, thrusts his hips upward to make you kiss him back. You do, kiss him like it’ll kill you both if you don’t.
“That’s it, baby.” His chest is heaving and he’s panting, head back against the leather head-rest, sighing and smiling, tasting like whiskey and cigarette smoke. His fingers stroke your clit in slow circles and you shiver. Dallas wraps his other arm around your waist, bringing you close. his cock hits that spot deep inside that makes your toes curl, and you can’t help but think that he really should’ve wrapped it. his hands grip your hips tight, fucking you through the orgasm as he chases his own, hips stuttering clumsy, still working your clit with his calloused thumb and forefinger. He’s still going, and you push at his chest, laughing a little but still sore. “Again?” You question, shifting uncomfortably.
It’s really late. His eyes are hooded, half-dilated and dark in the shady moonlight. “Your parents are gonna kill you anyway.” he shrugs, rocking slowly. You whine and lean back against the steering wheel when he comes close, taking your tit out from your top. He circles the nipple, tweaking it as he smirks. His eyes are challenging, a warning and a threat. “You’re a real bad influence, y/n.” He sighs, raising a brown eyebrow.
You scoff, “Wait, what? me?”
You fall forwards onto his chest when he moves his hips again. You lean, head on his shoulder, buried in his neck. He traces patterns on your back with his big hands. Dally doesn’t even bother trying to respond.