sum. you're a soc waitress who works at the local diner, a real doll. when the local hoods get a look at you, it's safe to say they're already making plans.
tw. curses, smoking mentions, dally and steve and twobit ꉂ(≧▽≦)
pair. Steve, Sodapop, Ponyboy, Dally, Twobit, Johnny x Fem!Soc!Reader .sep
type. headcanons
Dally Winston -
𐚁 when he first walked into the diner and saw you, his first instinct was to walk up to you and flirt his head off.
𐚁 classic dally winston, who would've thought?
𐚁 of course, you're annoyed by his stupid tactics to get you to go out with him. "You free tonight, hon'? gonna go to the drive-in with my pals.. wanna tag along?" and "Do you got a boyfriend? Pretty girl like you must." and, of course, "Are you real? is this your real hair?"
𐚁 johnny would be right next to him, hands in his pockets as he looks down at his feet. He doesn't like to be involved in his antics.
𐚁 "C'mon, doll. Let's go somewhere, away from here." He'd murmur, his face in your hair. He wouldn't give up unless someone, probably johnny, would tell him too.
𐚁 Who in their right mind would turn down Dally Winston, though?
Sodapop Curtis -
𐚁 He's a gentleman, we know. He wouldn't be anything like Dally or Steve or Twobit. He'd do something classic.
𐚁 Subtle hints here and there as you wait his table, like, "Oh, guess we got a real doll waiting our table. Just our luck, huh?" and writing his number on the napkin.
𐚁 He'd probably wink at you and stupid things like that, and if you still can't catch the hint, he'd walk up to you before he leaves and ask your number.
𐚁 You would obviously be stunned, did a literal popstar no pun intended just ask you out?! Sodapop was the one who always turned heads in the gang.
𐚁 Overall, he'd just be a gentleman about it, or straight up ask you out. He's kind of used to getting his way with girls, anyway.
Steve Randle -
𐚁 Oh brother.. this man would ABSOLOUTELY NOT back down until he gets you to go out with him.
𐚁 He'd do something stupid just to show off, like 'accidentally' catching you when you fall, or 'accidentally' flexing his arms while grabbing the plate you gave to him.
𐚁 He'd come right up to you, too, leaning on the counter, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "So.. Uh.. You got a boyfriend, pretty?"
𐚁 Probably awkward with girls if I had to guess. Two-bit would have to go to the bathroom to try not to cringe at his attempts.
𐚁 He'd probably try to get your attention by blowing straws at you if you ignored him, or just yell for a waitress constantly.
𐚁 A tad bit annoying.
TwoBit Mathews -
𐚁 Of course he'd notice the minnie mouse sticker on your notepad, it was the cherry on top. You were pretty, kind, funny, and understood his humor.. AND liked mickey? you were his dream.
𐚁 you were also blonde WHO SAID THAT?!
𐚁 He'd blow straws at you, winking, wolf whistling.. everything in the damn book. He would REFUSE to come straight up to you, though. He wants to attract you with his natural charm, he says.
𐚁 He'd crack jokes loud enough for you to hear, peeking at you every now and then to see if you were listening to his stupid jokes. Eventually, you'd laugh nearby and he'd whistle at you to come over.
𐚁 Definitely would be cracking witty dad jokes. "You know what you call a sane horse?" he'd smile. "What?" You'd ask, giggling. "Stable!"
𐚁 No one laughed.
𐚁 He'd probably tip you and actually pay for the meal, leaving his number on everything he can.. The table, the cash, the receipt.. He's a litttleeee desperate.
Johnny Cade -
𐚁 Oh, you were just a doll, weren't you? He saw you laughing and being so kind to the little kids there.. He just had to admire you.
𐚁 He'd just stare a lot of the time, his puppy eyes burning holes in the back of your head. If you ever caught him, he'd immediately look away, staring at his untouched food.
𐚁 Dally would eventually notice his Kid Brother staring at some pretty waitress, and would step in. "Hey, what's your type?" or something idiotic like that.
𐚁 Dally would be the wingman, saying stupid shit like "So, you find this guy cute, or what?" he'd tease, ruffling johnny's hair next to him.
𐚁 If johnny did make a move, it'd be something like "Gee, you're real pretty." before he quickly regrets it and runs to the bathroom to hide.
𐚁 He can't handle pretty girls. Was he shy, or was it the talk steve gave him?
𐚁 Ponyboy still doesn't know.
Ponyboy Curtis -
𐚁 You were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, prettier than cherry, he'd even say.
𐚁 Usually, he'd ignore pretty girls, because the only ones he'd find were socs, or loud, cussing greasers.
𐚁 But you were different. You had a book in your hands, eating a sandwich on your lunchbreak.
𐚁 You were quiet, unlike most other greasers he'd known. You were also kind.. and reading Gone With The Wind.
𐚁 He'd come up to you, pulling up a stool and asking you some questions about the book, if you liked it, if you read any others, your school..
𐚁 He'd probably be too nervous to ask for your number or anything.. but he'd come back everyday just to see you.
could u write the gang (seperate) x a reader thats like. deeply and unashamedly obsessed w them
not in in a weird way but like soda makes reader a cake and theyre like “wow ur so talented u should be a baker youd be the best baker in the world everyone look at this isnt my bf such a good baker?? isnt he so cool???? arent you so jealous of me???”
or they visit the DX on steves lunch break and theyre like whats all this? and steve starts explaining the car stuff to them and theyre like “omg ur so smart ur the smartest person ever the DX is so lucky to have you <333 soda come look at steves car isnt he so good at this??? babe u should like reinvent cars youd totally do it better than washington or whatever”
or just reader holding hands and sitting on laps and kissing faces at all times basically the gang x reader thats all over them
「 i just wanna get high with my lover! 」
IN WHICH—you’re totally in love with them!♡ ໋֢ 🎞️✧
📀ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡
⌗ 🕯️ notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ i’m Finally working on reqs. WHO CHEERED???? also new theme for fics. got bored of my old ones😜
Dallas Winston ;
“you’re so strong, dal. you look so good when you fight, did you know that? you’re like the only person who looks that good when fighting. you’re so cool.”
“…thanks, doll.”
was SO STARTLED LMFAO
like??? he’s never been showered in compliments like this before. but he DOES welcome it
cocky bastard. you boosted his ego. it’s too high now.
“i stole this for you.”
“DALLAS! you didn’t have too, oh my god! you’re so sweet—and talented! i can’t believe you stole this—for me! i have the best boyfriend ever! i am so lucky, ain’t i?”
“yeah, i know.”
SHOWS U OFF SO MUCH. he just likes the reaction you give him when he does, honestly. like dallas LOVES hearing you ramble about him when he’s beside you.
he’s all, “yup. i AM the best boyfriend ever, dickhead.”
“this my partner.”
“mhm! dally’s the sweetest ever! he’s so nice to me, don’t you think? ugh, i love him so much. he’s the best boyfriend in the world.”
the way you look at him with lovesick eyes makes him wanna hold you forever and never let go btw.
IF YOU SIT ON HIS LAP AND DO THAT??? ohmy fod he’ll lose his fucking mind!!!
dallas winston looking up at you while you cradle him between your legs, his hands gently holding your waist while you gush over him, a small pink hue across his cheeks.
AHHHH AHHHHH AHHHHHH
“you’re so handsome. you’re the prettiest boy ever. i love your hair, it’s so nice. with or without the grease.”
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
has the most DISGUSTING and GROSS lovey dovey smile across his face has you plant kissed across his face, mumbling sweet nothings as you do so.
feels like you’re an angel when you do this after a bad day btw. loves you sososososo much he’s so down bad
Johnny Cade ;
looks up at you with the biggest puppy dogs eyes you’ve ever seen as you sit on his lap, kissing his scars. johnny’s lips would be slightly parted as he seems mesmerized with every movement you make.
WHIPPED. HE IS WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER. the SECOND you started gushing over, he got a small grin on his face, a sense of pride washing over him.
he, like, never knew you seen him as this magnificent being. johnny’s confidence was never great but PHEWWW you’re always there to help him!!!
“you really like my scars?”
“totally. they make you look so cute, johnny. they make you, you and that’s all i could ever ask for. you’re so cute. i love you. any person would, i’m just so glad that it’s me.”
he’d get so shy after but johnny would be walking with his chin slightly higher. ‘cause deep down he’s all, “what if they don’t actually mean it☹️?” and then you show up outta nowhere and like engulf him with a hug and he’s like “nvm…i love ‘em actually☺️.”
whenever you brag about him to people, he has to look at his feet to keep himself from smiling too much.
“and if you ever need someone to listen to you, nobody does it like johnny! he’s the best listener ever, nobody can ever compare to him. johnny’s such an angel!”
“y/n…”
he’d mumble, an embarrassed groan leaving his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck, kicking a rock.
contrary to popular belief of you being more in love, he is. he swears up and down that you’re too good to him, that you’re a real doll, that he doesn’t deserve someone like you.
johnny needs someone like this in his life NOW! and if it isn’t you it’s gonna be me.
Ponyboy Curtis ;
so fucking embarrassed i’m crying.
i believe he can’t take compliments for SHIT. so being around you, he just becomes a mess. like stuttering n’ shit.
“your voice is so pretty. you read so much better than everyone else, pony. you should do it as a job—you’d totally beat everyone. it’s not like it’d ever be a competition with you there, though. you’re so cool, pony.”
“i-uhm…thank you, y/n.”
GIGGLES SOO HARD LMFAOOOO
like at night when he’s with soda, he just rambles to his older brother about what you told him. soda thinks it’s cute in the moment, but later wants ponyboy to shut up because it’s been two hours of him gushing over what you said to him.
“and then they said that i-“
“OKAY, DAMN. i have work tomorrow and you have school. ponyboy, please.”
“…okay? they said that i was the prettiest boy they’ve ever seen.”
“holy fuck.”
like he’d be ranting about some drama with the gang or some movie he’d seen, sitting on the couch as you rest your head on his shoulder.
you look over to him, thinking he’s never looked more perfect. ponyboy had washed the grease out of his hair, the fluffy hair falling over his ears.
unconsciously, you tuned him out as you leaned over, kissing him on the cheek.
“what was that for?”
“you tell stories so well, pony. you’d make a great writer, did you know that? i’m so lucky to have you.”
“i-huh?”
WAHHH COMPLIMENTING PONYBOY WHILE ATTACKING HID FACE WITH KISSES AS HE GIGGLES ☹️☹️☹️
he’s so cute thay’s literally my man….!!!!
Sodapop Curtis ;
HE’S SO IN LOVE!!!!!
sitting on the counter while he cooks and you just rant about how perfect he is makes him WEAK IN THE KNEES.
“you’re such a good baker, soda. nobody does it like you do. you’re like—the best baker in the world. ain’t he, two-bit?”
“stop it, y/n..🤭🤭”
“nah, ‘m good.”
you brag about him to the girls that go to the DX to flirt with him. i can see it now.
soda’s just in the background giggling SOO HARD AND TWEAKING WITH STEVE LMFAOO
“no, he’s so sweet to me! i swear, he’s like the best boyfriend ever, did you know that? i’d be jealous if i was you, honestly.”
“TEEHEE”
“soda, shut up!”
“i’m the best boyfriend ever, steve😛.”
HE DOES THE SAME THING FOR YOU IT’S SO CUTEEE😭😭
“you look so cute today, y/n. i got so lucky, didn’t i? had to be blessed to even have you in my life.”
FUCK i need this man at my doorstep
like imagine sitting on his lap, him staring up at you while you push back his hair with a small smile on his face. the silence between the two of you being broken by exchanged compliments.
YOU TWO MAKE EVERYONE FUCKIJG SICK I WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT!!! YOU GUYS ARE SO PERFECT TOGETHER IT MAKES ME VOMIT!!!
Darry Curtis ;
tries to act cool and nonchalant when you do it, but he turns his head away to cover the huge smile that’s growing on his face.
“you’re so strong, dare! you’re the strongest person ever—you could totally take down anyone. isn’t he just the best, soda?”
“alright, that’s enough, y/n.”
“but you’re just so good to me, dare. :(.”
“sweetheart, please.”
“alright..”
“he’s smiling, y/n.”
“and blushin’…i love your brother so much.”
“everyone knows.”
AKDNSKDHEKENKDS SITTING ON HIS LAP WHILE HE SITS ON HIS CHAIR, READING THE NEWS PAPER🤭🤭
like your arms are wrapped around his neck, his arms around your waist as he reads the newspaper over your shoulder while lazily responding to your rambles.
“you look so cute with your reading glasses. you’re the most handsome boyfriend in the whole world. i’m so lucky, ain’t i?”
“you’re a real treat, y/n.”
—
“i love your hair, darry. you look so much better with this hairstyle than anyone else. you should be a model.”
“i’d be a terrible model, dear.”
gang is so jealous of your relationship btw. they call it bullshit that darry pulled you.
they fake gag and groan when you do this but in reality they’re like, ‘damn…when is it my turn to be happy.😒’
darry’s self esteem’s alright. it’s not the best but it’s not the worst. but you’re always there to remind him he’s absolutely perfect :).
Steve Randle ;
HE’S SOOOO WHIPPED LMFAOOOO
like i swear to god the second you went on a rant about him he was so ready to marry you right then and there.
“you’re so good when it comes to cars. honestly—you could just make your own and it’d be 100x better than whoever made them before. you’re just the best mechanic ever.”
“really? you think so? ‘cause if i were ever to i’d totally change the way they-“
and now steve’s on a 12 minute rant on how he’d change cars to rub better while you just sit there, listening to him with a smile.
YOU HAVE HIM SOOOO INSANE LIKE I SWEAR TO GOD!?? he couldn’t ask for a better partner if he tried!!!
like, i imagine steve’s always had confidence issues—being friends with soda n all don’t really help.
BUT THEN YOU CAME ALONG AND HE’S JUST VISIBLY HAPPIER😭😭.
“you’re so smart, steve. like—the smartest ever.”
“stawpp, oh my god. what else am i, though?”
“you’re cute, awfully nice, you got the prettiest eyes the world’s ever seen-“
please tell him all this while kissing him all over. he needs it so bad.
teehee lazily kissing steve randles face as the blush across his face grows from the never ending compliments that leave your lips😜
he’d totally tell you to shut up and when you don’t, he just kiss you.
AUGHHHH
Two-Bit Mathews ;
AUGH HE DOES THE SAME THING FOR YOU !!!!
honestly—he didn’t like it at first. ‘cause deep down he was all, ‘wtf??? i’m supposed to be making them swoon n’ shit??? why am i the one giggling rn??😒😡’
but overtime he’d look forward to your silly little love drunk rambles. tell him he’s the most thoughtful boyfriend ever when he’s drunk and he might cry.
“YOU REALLY THINK THAT? BABY, STA-“
and he’s like actually sobbing while hugging you.
sitting on two-bit’s lap in the backseat of his car at the drive-in, ignoring the movie you guys came to watch because you’re both too focused on each other.
kissing every inch of his face, laughs leaving his lips as you mutter small comments about how cute his laugh is. unconsciously, his grip on your hips tightening.
FUCK i’m making myself feel lonely writing this.
every single good thing you say about him gets internalized. someone could say his hair’s dumb but then in his head he goes ‘NUH-UH! y/n said my hair is absolutely perfect😜’
HIIII IM SORRY IVE BEEN LIKE STALKING UR PAGE BUT UR WRITING IS LIKE MY DINNER I EAT IT UP AND LEAVE NITHING IN THE PLATE 😭😭💗
but, can you write the x gn or fem reader who like, is absolutely addicted to video games.
like she'll sneak her little game boy into school and if its not in her hands, its in her pocket.
TYY AND I LOVE UR PAGE SO MUCH ❤❤❤
✧˖° - the gang with a reader who likes video games ꨄ︎
✧˖*°࿐ featuring ; the outsiders - darrel, ponyboy, sodapop, johnny, dallas, two-bit, steve
✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ
hi :) this is so old, i haven’t written on this blog in a while but i thought id give it a shot for the few 600 who are still following me. just in case u guys still care about the outsiders lol 💗
✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ
intended lowercase, mature language, mentions of smoking, we’re gonna pretend that the first gameboy wasn’t made in the 80s / first handheld console in the 70s for darry’s .. the others are all really pinball and small handheld puzzles, let me know if i missed anything
“how’s ‘bout you put that game down and start heading to bed?” a faint voice calls out to you from the hallway. you glance at DARRY — your view of him transformed with the way you hang upside down on the couch — before your eyes dart back down to the little screen, your thumbs mashing at the small buttons strategically. you huff at his question, partially because you know he won’t give it up.
his brow cocks at your silence, placing the toothbrush in his mouth as he makes his way toward you. his bare footsteps echo through the hall before he turns the corner and just.. stands there; head tilted with a hand on his hip.
“i’ll go right now, dar. i’m just— shit!”
your voice lilts upwards in pitch as he grabs you from the couch, dropping your game in the process. you’re thrown over his shoulder and all you can do is pout as you hear the animated staccato-like beeps of the defeat theme chiming from the small speaker — right paired along with a bright, white “game over” on the screen.
“darry!”
he ignores your keen with a roll of his eyes. “y’know what time it is?”
you lightly smack his side with the back of your hand — not to do anything, but just a little way to articulate how much time it took for you to almost beat your high score. you didn’t realize the fact that it was actually 10pm, nor did you realize the fact that darry had been waiting for you to do your nightly routine together, like you always did.
“do you know how long it took me to get there?” head lolling down in despair, you scrunch your eyes shut once you hear his low chuckle.
“took y’about twelve seconds to get over here. see how fast time flies?” darry says, and you only cross your arms because you know it’s true. he puts you down on the bed as your body plops down on the mattress. you really need to buy him a new bed, you thought — teeth gnashing at the way the springs screech with every subtle movement.
“you’re so mean.”
“for wantin’ you to get a good night’s rest? you’re awful stubborn for shapes on a board,” he half jests, much to your displeasure. he tucks you in, blanket secure under your side so that you can’t easily access your game in the living room — and yes, he’s caught you multiple times trying to sneak over.
in spite of that, he can’t help the way his lips twitch fondly at the sight of you so focused on trying to pass a level; neither can he help the softness in his chest at the sight of soda and pony peering over your shoulder with curious smiles, either.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
the soda shop buzzes with noise—jukebox, laughter, the faint clatter of the pinball in the corner. SODAPOP’s beside you, elbow bumpin’ yours every few seconds.
“you’re gonna break that thing,” he teases.
“then i’ll fix it.”
he smells like sun on denim, hair shampooed and still warm from the morning, with a faint trace of motor oil and a hint of vanilla soap that never quite leaves him.
he shifts, kicks a scuffed shoe against the floor, and the sound reverberates, low and steady, through the wooden boards. the movement is easy, like water over stones, effortless but sure.
the air tastes faintly sweet, sticky even, and you feel it cling to the back of your throat as you watch the ball ricochet. light catches the edges of his grin, the curve of his dimple, the sparkle in his eye. it’s careless and warm, like laughter stretched out over a summer afternoon. the hum of the machine blends with the warmth of him, and it feels like you could stay here forever, letting the light and noise fold over your skin.
he laughs, bright and easy. “reckon you could fix me while you’re at it.”
the scent of cherry cola and hair grease fills the space. you press the button, hit the bumper just right—the lights flare, bells ring. he throws both arms up like it’s the greatest thing he’s ever seen.
“look at you!” he grins wide, dimple showing. “ain’t nobody better’n my girl at pinball!”
“you say that every time i win,” you say, smiling.
“yeah,” he says softly, “’cause it’s always true.”
the song on the jukebox shifts, low notes crawling across the room. his laughter, soft and easy, hangs in the air like smoke and sugar. the machine hums in rhythm with the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon, the quiet, steady pull of him near.
you lose the next round on purpose, just to see him laugh.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
the arcade hums like something half-alive, warm with static and dust. neon light spills down the walls in trembling colors—rose, amber, mint green—making ghosts of everyone who walks by.
it smells like sugar and rust, the sharp bite of electricity under layers of soda syrup, machine oil, the faint sweetness of bubblegum crushed beneath shoes.
PONYBOY leans against the next machine, quiet as the air before rain. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to; his silence has a weight to it. the kind that hums low and steady, like a car idling. there’s the scent of something familiar clinging to him—sun-warmed cotton, the faint sweetness of soap, a trace of cigarette smoke from someone else’s hand. when he shifts his weight, the floor creaks softly under the worn soles of his sneakers.
he watches as the pinball table glows faintly beneath your hands, glass cool beneath your wrists, the metal edges smooth and worn. each time you press the flipper buttons the motion vibrates up your arms, quick and electric. the ball ricochets, catching the light like a star. it’s hypnotic, the way it loops and clinks, the way the whole thing sings back to your rhythm—ding, chime, slam, tilt.
“you really like that machine, huh?” he teases, voice low, a bit shy.
“’course i do,” you mutter, not looking away from the flashing lights. “it’s got rhythm. you just gotta… feel it.”
the metal ball shoots up the ramp, and the sound—clang, ding, click—fills the small room. the air smells like oil and soda syrup. he laughs under his breath, soft and boyish.
he stays where he is, arms crossed loosely, a shadow in amber light. you think of the long stretch of road outside, the smell of rain on asphalt, the way twilight hits the edges of his face when he’s thinking too hard about something he’ll never say.
you press another nickel into the slot, feel its weight disappear. the machine comes alive again. the lights flare gold, brighter than before.
“you’re somethin’ else,” pony says. “ain’t ever seen anyone look at a game like that before.”
you grin, shoulders still hunched in focus. “guess i just like winnin’.”
he stands there a while longer, quiet, then drops a nickel beside you. “guess i’ll play next. see if i can beat ya.”
“you won’t,” you whisper, hitting the flipper. the ball rockets upward, lights bursting like stars.
“will too,” pony shoots back. he watches you, eyes warm and curious.
maybe it ain’t just the high score he wants to chase, he thinks.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
the diner hums with the soft ache of evening, that particular stillness that lives between laughter and closing time.
the air smells of fried onions and sugar, of coffee gone cold in heavy ceramic mugs. everything is amber—the walls, the reflections in the window, the halos around the lightbulbs trembling in their dusty glass shells. outside, rain presses against the glass in thin, crooked lines, the kind that never quite break but whisper when they slide down.
the game hums quiet in the corner. JOHNNY watches you from the booth, hands curled around a paper cup. “how come you like that thing so much?” he asks, chocolate eyes glued to the screen.
you shrug. “guess it makes sense. one thing i’m the best at.” your finger points to the side where your initials are engraved as a high scorer without taking your eyes off of the screen. johnny’s impressed by it.
the scent of grease clings to the counters. there’s sugar dried into the cracks of the linoleum. a waitress laughs faintly by the register, a sound that feels far away. the bell above the door rings once, then goes quiet again.
he nods slow. “i get that.”
you hand him a turn. his fingers are careful, almost too gentle; the ball drops fast. he looks up, embarrassed.
“shoot. i’m no good at it.”
“don’t matter,” you whisper. “ain’t about winnin’. it’s just... keepin’ it movin’.”
johnny moves, barely—fingers tapping against his cup, the faint scrape of his boot against tile. the sound folds into the quiet. his reflection flickers beside yours in the machine’s darkened glass—two silhouettes made of shadow and light, blurred by the glow.
the rain grows heavier outside. the windows fog. the lights hum. somewhere a car passes, hissing over wet asphalt, headlights cutting through the mist like small miracles.
you press another coin into the slot, the metal warm from your hand. the machine wakes again with a low, familiar chime. johnny’s eyes lift, just slightly, catching the flicker of color. his expression softens in the glow, and for a heartbeat the light touches his face the way sunlight does when it finds something it wants to keep.
the jukebox hums something sad. he smiles faintly, eyes soft. “you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”
you nudge his arm, half-smile. “takes one to know one.”
the lights flash blue across both your faces. quiet. safe. for once, the noise don’t hurt.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
the street smells like asphalt warmed by the sun.
in your hands is a small mechanical game. scratched plastic, tiny levers, a silver ball trapped in a maze. it rattles and clinks with every tilt, every flick. miniature chaos spinning beneath your fingers.
DALLAS leans back against the curb. his jacket catches the late afternoon light. sleeves rolled to show the muscle under his arms. his foot taps. fingers brush over the leather as if he can’t stay still.
“you really get worked up over that piece’a metal,” he drawls.
“maybe i do,” you say, nudging the small device. “’least it don’t talk back.”
“yeah? i could change that.”
his scent presses close—warm leather, soap, cigarette smoke. when he shifts, heat brushes yours. your hands tilt the game. the silver ball skitters across rails, catching glints of sun like sparks.
unfortunately, it gleams a little too hard and you lose control of the small bead, getting it stuck back down at the bottom again.
“real smooth,” he mocks.
you shove his shoulder. “don’t see you tryin’.”
“don’t gotta. i win every game i play.”
he’s so smug you could scream—but then he grabs ahold of the game, hands brushing against your own as he starts to tilt the handheld again.
“see?” he says when he makes it.
you roll your eyes. “cheater.”
he laughs, low and rough. “sweetheart, i don’t cheat. i just play dirty.”
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
you’re halfway through your fifth round of pinball, and TWO-BIT’s been cheerin’ you on like it’s a circus act.
he leans against the wall, jacket loose, boots scuffing the linoleum. he smells like sun, leather, faint tobacco. he watches you tilt and press, eyes glinting with amusement. the light catches the corner of his grin, long shadows stretching across the floor.
the ball races, slams, clatters. tiny bells ring. the metallic song echoes, blending with the distant hum of the jukebox, the murmur of kids passing nickels back and forth. dust swirls in lazy spirals, sunlight catching in every mote.
“look at her go! shoot, i ain’t seen reflexes like that since i dodged my ma’s slipper!”
you laugh so hard you miss the ball.
“dang it, two-bit!”
“hey, don’t blame me for your tragic downfall.”
the air tastes of soda, grease, and faint metal. the lights pulse. the machine hums. dust, sunlight, silver sparks, the hum of electricity, the pull of his presence—it all folds together.
he slides beside you, pops a coin in, and slams both buttons with wild enthusiasm. “see, ya gotta finesse it, dollface. real skill.”
the ball shoots straight into the gutter. he gapes.
you double over laughing. “real skill, huh?”
“machine’s rigged!” he declares.
his laughter fills the air, big and contagious. the room smells of popcorn and cigarette smoke, and he looks so proud even in defeat you can’t help but grin.
“guess i’ll let ya win next time,” he says.
“guess you’ll have to,” you tease.
“oh, darlin’, i’m always up for another round.”
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
the garage smells like hot oil and metal. sunlight slices through dusty windows, landing on scattered wrenches and grease-streaked workbenches. the place humming with old engines and summer air, you’re perched on a stool, fiddlin’ with a half-busted handheld maze game—one of those plastic kinds with the tiny silver ball. STEVE leans against the car hood, cigarette between his lips.
he leans against the workbench, sleeves rolled, forearms smeared with grease. he smells like motor oil, sun-warmed denim, faint cigarette smoke. his gaze follows your hands, intent, sharp, a little impatient—but caught.
“you talk to that thing more’n you talk to me,” he says with a grin.
“’cause it listens,” you shoot back.
he chuckles, smoke curling out his nose. “yeah, sure it does. bet it don’t mouth off neither.”
you shake the toy gently, metal ball rolling through the little maze, clinking faintly. the grease smell mixes with smoke and gasoline; his hands are black with oil, shirt clingin’ to his arms.
the car teeters, hits a jump, and lands just right. a small bell chimes. your chest lifts in a soft laugh. he leans closer, letting the energy of the game ripple through him. leather creaks. sparks from the metal track flash in the sunlight.
“you ever think it’s kinda like fixin’ cars?” you ask.
he snorts. “how you figure?”
“both got parts. both gotta move just right or it don’t work. patience, y’know?”
steve looks at you, grin fading just a little. “huh. didn’t think of it like that.”
you pass him the game. “your turn, grease monkey.”
he squints at it, tongue pokin’ from the corner of his mouth as he tries not to lose the ball. when he drops it straight into a dead end, you laugh again, all bright and unguarded.
“guess i’ll stick to cars,” he mutters, but his smile doesn’t fade.
𝑇𝑤𝑜-𝐵𝑖𝑡 𝑀𝑎𝑡𝘩𝑒𝑤𝑠 forgot how to cry at an early age.
How could he not have? Tears prove that something is wrong. Even if everything was utterly wrong, he couldn't let it affect him. His mother wouldn't be able to take it. She cried enough for the both of them, back then, when his father hit her, and after he left. Two-Bit had never understood that — it was a good thing that he’d left, right?
Something still was wrong. He’d understood that early on, holdind his sleeping sister in the dark room, hearing his mother cry next door. She only cried at night, when he was supposed to be asleep. In the morning, everything was different. When she sat on the edge of the bed, waking him and Brenda with tickles, she wore a wide smile. Only the shadows around her eyes hinted at her troubles.
That’s how Two-Bit learned that laughing is way more effective. It keeps sadness away, just like sunlight that breaks through clouds in the morning. Making others laugh is even better. Them assuming you don't feel as deeply is an easy sacrifice to make. It’s the ultimate declaration of loyalty, isn't it? For eighteen years of his life, that is what he believed.
However, like with many things, you proved him wrong.
Two-Bit always valued loyalty more than love. It made sense, since loyalty was a proof of appreciation, whereas love was a mere emotion, no promise, no real action. His father had told him that he loved him, yet he had left.
Of course, he didn't mind feelings. He liked how it felt when you giggled at his jokes, or how his heart jumped when you fell asleep with your head resting against his shoulder at the movie theater.
Maybe, though, he came to think, maybe love and loyalty can be the same thing after all. And maybe tears can have the same effect as laughter when they come from the right person.
He always knew that he liked you. You just got him like nobody else. Actually, he had a feeling that you knew when he was being funny naturally and when he forced himself to be.
The day you first cried in front of him was they day he knew he loved you, too. It had been after a rumble, at the Curtis brother’s household. They usually went there to tend to their wounds. Sure, he could have gone home… but he just couldn't take his mother and sister seeing him like this. It made him feel guilty.
However, he didn't think you’d be waiting for them at the house. Otherwise, he might have gone somewhere else entirely. Because truthfully, the face you made when you saw him hurt was just as bad.
He had a big gash on his forehead and a blue eye. Even though the others looked just as bad if not even more roughed up, he felt strangely embarrassed when you fawned over him. You didn't waste any time, ushering him to sit and getting a rag to dab the blood from his face.
Only when that was taken care of did you take a moment to breathe. Shakily, he noticed alarmed. He watched as you let yourself fall onto the couch next to him. The room was filled with chatter, everyone was high on adrenaline.
Not him. Not anymore. His heart sank as your shoulders began to shake silently and you avoided his eyes.
“Do I look that scary?” He attempted to brighten the mood, body tense. His face betrayed him, brows pinched together in worry.
You attempted to smile at that, but it looked off. “No. Sorry, I just… I don't like it when you’re hurt.”
Your voice broke, and a tear rolled down your cheek. He felt awful. God, he hated it when you were sad. Usually, your optimism held everyone together.
He didn't know what to say. So instead of pondering on it, he pulled you into his arms.
It was a weird hug, twisted, because you sat right next to him, but very comforting. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of your body against his.
After a while, you looked up at him. And your smile was bright as ever, not dimmed even though your eyes were still glossy from tears.
Clearing your throat, you sat up a little straighter, and he immediately mourned the lack of distance. “Your eye is swelling closed. Did you know that?”
“Does it look stupid?”
“No.”
He raised a brow.
“…Yes.” You smiled bashfully, and he grinned.
“Well, good thing I’ve still got my charm, right?”
You laughed, hiding your face in his shoulder. God, this girl... His heart jumped. You were gonna be the death of him. Because truthfully, he'd take as many hits as he could if it meant that he could make you laugh. That's probably messed up, but still...
He didn't care about the rumble anymore. They'd won, but this — you smiling into his shirt, body melting against his — this was the greater victory.
Your crying had initially made him feel bad, but only because he didn't want you to be upset. Now, it didn't make him feel uncomfortable at all, no, not like he'd tought, not like he'd expected with how tense and avoidant he got in emotional situations. No, with you... Strangely, he felt cared for.
Hi, this is my second time posting I noticed that you guys enjoyed the Steve story so here is more
Two-Bit x Reader
The night was cold enough to sting, the kind of Oklahoma chill that made your breath puff in the air. You stood in the popcorn line wearing your sleeveless green turtleneck, your suede skirt fluttering in the wind, your white knee‑high socks and brown Mary Jane kitten heels doing their best but not doing much.
You rubbed your bare arms, teeth chattering.
Then—
“BOO!”
Right behind your ear.
You jumped so hard your curls bounced.
A loud, wild laugh cracked through the cold air.
You spun around.
Two‑Bit Matthews. Tall. greasy hair. Leather jacket. Grin big enough to start trouble.
“Holy smokes, doll!” he wheezed. “You hopped like a scared jackrabbit! I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that!”
You glared. “Get lost, hood.”
He blinked, then grinned even bigger. “Aw, c’mon now. Don’t be like that. I was just havin’ a little fun.”
You didn’t answer. You turned on your heel and stormed off, boots crunching on the gravel.
You plopped down in a seat near the front, arms crossed, staring at the screen like it owed you money.
The wind hit your bare arms again. You shivered.
Footsteps approached.
Two‑Bit slid into the seat beside you like he’d been invited.
You didn’t look at him. He didn’t leave.
“You always this dramatic,” he asked, “or am I just special?”
You shot him a glare. “I told you to get lost.”
“And I told you I ain’t good at listenin’,” he said, popping his gum. “Besides, you’re freezin’ your arms off.”
You shivered again.
He noticed.
Without a word, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders.
You stiffened. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Didn’t say you did,” he said. “But you’re shiverin’ like a leaf in a storm.”
You pulled the jacket tighter anyway.
He smirked. “Knew it.”
You opened your mouth to snap back — but someone else got there first.
A Soc. Clean jacket. Smug grin. Hands in his pockets like he owned the whole drive‑in.
He stepped right in front of you.
“Well hey there,” he said, eyes dragging over you. “Didn’t know they let girls like you out here dressed like that.”
Your stomach twisted.
Two‑Bit stood up so fast the seat squeaked.
“She don’t wanna talk to you,” he said, voice low. “Beat it.”
The Soc smirked. “You her boyfriend?”
“No,” Two‑Bit said, stepping closer, “but I’m the guy who’s gonna rearrange your face if you don’t move.”
The Soc backed off.
Two‑Bit sat back down beside you, breath sharp.
“You okay, doll?”
You nodded. “Yeah… thanks.”
He shrugged, softer. “Ain’t lettin’ some stuck‑up Soc talk to you like that.”
You looked at him for the first time that night. Really looked.
“Why’d you sit with me?” you asked quietly.
He shrugged. “’Cause you looked lonely. And cold. And mad at me. And I dunno… I kinda liked all three.”
You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your kind of ridiculous.”
You didn’t deny it.
And that was the start.
You and Two‑Bit became inseparable.
He’d show up at your door: “C’mon, doll. Let’s go do somethin’ stupid.”
You’d roll your eyes: “You’re the stupid one. I’m just supervising.”
He’d laugh: “Yeah, well, you’re cute when you supervise.”
You patched up his knuckles. “You gotta stop fightin’.”
He’d grin: “Can’t. I gotta protect my reputation.”
You’d steal his jacket. He’d pretend to be offended. “Hey! That’s mine!”
“You weren’t wearin’ it.”
“Yeah, but I was thinkin’ about wearin’ it!”
Everyone thought you were together.
You weren’t.
Not yet.
But you talked like you were. Acted like you were. Looked at each other like you were.
Then the big day arrives and It happened on the Curtis porch.
Two‑Bit was quiet. Too quiet.
You nudged him. “What’s wrong with you?”
He tapped his foot. “I gotta tell you somethin’. And I ain’t good at sayin’ stuff that matters.”
You waited.
He swallowed hard.
“I like you. The real kind. The kind that makes my stomach do weird flips. The kind that scares me.”
Your breath caught.
“I like you too,” you whispered.
He blinked. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
He grinned — soft, nervous, hopeful.
“Can I…?”
You nodded.
He leaned in and kissed you.
Slow. Warm. Careful. Months of waiting behind it.
When he pulled back, he whispered:
“Worth every second.”he’d show up at your door the next night, hair combed, shirt Mickey shirt tucked in, holding a single flower he definitely stole from someone’s yard.
He cleared his throat. “So uh… you busy tonight?”
You smirked. “Depends. Why?”
He held out the flower. “I wanna take you out. Like… a real date. Not just hangin’ around bein’ idiots.”
You took the flower. “Where?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
He took you to the drive‑in.
“Really?” you teased. “This again?”
He shrugged. “Hey, it’s where I met ya. Figured it’s where I oughta take ya.”
You sat together, sharing popcorn, his arm around you, your head on his shoulder.
He whispered: “Y’know… I ain’t never liked a girl like this before.”
You smiled. “Good. I’d be mad if you did.”
He laughed. “There she is. My girl.”
You didn’t correct him.
Two‑Bit had a habit of showing up at your school even though he didn’t go there anymore. He’d lean against the lockers like he owned the joint, waiting for you between classes.
One morning, you were walking down the hallway, books in your arms, minding your business.
Then you heard it.
Loud. Bold. Echoing through the whole school.
“HEY BABY! WANNA SEE WHAT’S HANGIN’?”
Every head turned.
You froze. Your soul left your body.
You whipped around so fast your curls flew.
“MATHEWS, YOU BETTER BE TALKIN’ ABOUT YOUR KEYS!”
He grinned, jingling them. “Sure am, doll. What else would I be talkin’ about?”
You stomped up to him. “You can’t yell junk like that in a SCHOOL!”
He shrugged. “Why not? You’re cute when you’re sore.”
You smacked his arm with your books. “Two‑Bit!”
He laughed so loud the principal peeked out of his office.
You grabbed his jacket sleeve and dragged him outside before he got you both in trouble.
“You’re a real pain,” you muttered.
He winked. “Yeah, but I’m your pain.”
You didn’t deny it.
Later that day, you found him leaning against the bike rack, waiting for you like always.
He lit up when he saw you. “There’s my girl.”
You crossed your arms. “Is Two‑Bit even your real name?”
He smirked. “Why? You plannin’ on writin’ me up?”
“I’m serious.”
He stepped closer, eyes warm. “You really wanna know?”
“Yes.”
He tapped your chin with one finger. “Say please.”
You glared. “Not a chance.”
He laughed. “Alright, alright. Don’t blow a fuse.”
You waited.
He leaned in, voice low like he was telling you a secret meant only for you.
“It’s Keith,” he said. “Keith Mathews.”
You blinked. “That’s… actually kinda nice.”
He groaned dramatically. “Don’t go spreadin’ it around, doll. I got a rep to keep.”
You smirked. “Alright… Keith.”
He froze. “Aw hell, don’t say it like that. You’re gonna make me soft.”
You slipped your hand into his.
“Good.”
He squeezed your hand back, cheeks a little pink.
And that’s when he knew — you had him wrapped around your finger, and he didn’t mind one bit.
The next day After Whole day without seeing two-bit you were in your room, brushing out your soft 60’s curls, when you heard a knock.
You opened the door to find Two‑Bit standing there with a smug grin and a plate of chocolate cake .
“Evenin’, doll,” he said. “Hope you ain’t busy.”
You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want now?”
He held up the chocolate cake like it was a peace offering. “We’re watchin’ Mickey.”
You blinked. “No we’re not.”
“Yes we are.”
“No, we’re not.”
He stepped past you like he lived there. “Too late, sweetheart. I already got the snacks.”
You groaned. “Two‑Bit, I’m tired.”
He flopped onto your couch, patting the spot beside him. “Then sit. Mickey’ll fix that.”
You crossed your arms. “I’m not watchin’ cartoons with you.”
He gasped dramatically. “You take that back! Mickey Mouse is a national treasure!”
You rolled your eyes. “You’re such a kid.”
He grinned. “Yeah, but I’m your kid.”
You tried to stay mad. You really did.
But then he started laughing — that loud, wild, contagious laugh — and you cracked.
You sat beside him with a sigh. “Fine. One episode.”
He nudged you with his shoulder. “Atta girl.”
Halfway through the cartoon, you felt his arm slide behind you on the couch.
You didn’t move away.
He whispered, “Y’know… I like this. You. Me. Mickey. Feels right.”
You looked at him. He wasn’t joking. Not this time.
You rested your head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It does.”
He smiled — soft, real, nothing like the loud troublemaker everyone else saw.
“Don’t tell the guys,” he murmured. “They’ll say I’m gettin’ mushy.”
You smirked. “Keith Mathews, mushy? Never.”
He groaned. “Aw hell, don’t say my real name like that. You’re gonna make me fall apart.”
You laughed, leaning closer.
“Good.”
He kissed the top of your head — gentle, warm, like he’d been waiting all day to do it.
The TV flickered. Mickey squeaked. Two‑Bit’s arm tightened around you.
just being delulu about hybrid!outsiders au, you're just a young wealthy woman that has her life solved thanks to being the heir to your father's succesful bussiness.
You just have to sit around in your desk, in your huge countryhouse, and do some stupid paperwork. You just have to sign and aprove and decline and repeat, easy, right?
Well, you are really starting to dislike the utter silence in your house. Everything is too quiet and too empty and you sure as hell ain't gonna have kids anytime soon without a partner.
So you head up to the locel hybrid kennel, because it's better than adopting and paying for pure breed dogs when there are ones about to be sacrified.
And then, once you enter, you're greeted by the sight of a lot of hybrids in pitiful conditions. Mostly males.
So you head up to the closest worker and ask "which is the one that is closer to being sacrified?" and the man simply points towards a small cage with a tan-skinned hybrid (that looked scared out of his mind) "that one" he replies nonchantaly.
So you go and try and adopt that stray Greyhound hybrid, named Johnny, only for other dogs to start barking at you.
Seemingly, to get Johnny you had to get Dallas—a Canary Mastiff—.
And to get Dallas you had to get Two-Bit—a Siberian Husky—.
And to get Two-Bit you had to get Steve—a Weimaraner—.
And to get Steve you had to get Sodapop—a Golden Retriever—.
And to get Soda you had to get Ponyboy—a Belgian Tervurem—.
And to get Ponyboy you had to get Darry—a German Shepherd—.
Basically, they were an inter-breed pack and either you got them all or you got none.
And, against your better judgement and because you couldn't just let them be sacrified —because you were sensitive like that, damn—, you ended up taking them all in.
—Wich was at both the best decission of your life and the worst mistake you've ever made—.
,,
Darry was goddamn glad you had agreed to take them all in, mainly because you were more-or-less his age and he was no longer the only figure of authority in the group. He was the most helpful, often offering to help you wash the dishes or cook lunch.
Johnny was the most shy one of them all, he had a guarded nature and it seemed something had happened to make him all-the-more anxious and wary around new people. However, he seems to be taking a liking to you by the way he usually drops on his knees under your desk whenever you're working and rests his head on your lap —more often-than-not playing around with your skirt or pants—.
Ponyboy was the youngest, but surpsisingly not the most hyper despite still being practically a puppy. He's very smart and will often correct you just to (affectionately) get on your nerves, he also likes to read your books so you better keep anything with inapropiate content out of his reach if you don't want an earful from his brother Darry.
The most hyper price is won by both Sodapop and Two-Bit, they're just two overeager hybrids that are completely ecstatic about living in your house —often sticking their noses where they shouldn't, but oh well.
Soda is very hyper, constantly orbiting around you and asking about everything you do —even when you're just cooking and he has seen Darry cook plenty of time before, he just wants you to talk to him—. There are no thoughts™ inside his pretty head, and also the most reactive to praise. Just slip in a "good boy" or "such a good job!" and he's melting into a puddle of goo in the floor, tail wagging furiously.
Two-Bit is hyper too, but more on the restless side of the spectrum. He just needs distractions, put on mickey mouse on the TV or give him a newspaper to tear apart and he's all good 👍.
Steve is more.. on the reserved side, a little more grumpy and stubborn —and the only one to have ever flared his teeth at you—.
It's not that he doesn't like you, at the contrary:; he damn loves you for taking the whole gang in, but that's just his personality.
He'll show how grateful he is by helping you out in subtle things, like picking up the toys from the others and placing them all in one place so you don't go crazy when it's time to put them in their box, or by making sure no one —Dallas— steals anything personal from you.
Dallas is the biggest deal out of them all though, he's just completely unhinged. He doesn't follow your rules and is constantly going out of his way just to do specifically what you told him not to —thank god that Darry's there to keep him in his place from time to time—.
He's a total bastard, and is always being a bitch about things and also always saying comments about your body and how hot you are. Also you're pretty sure a few panties of yours have gone missing..
But, in the end, at least your house is not empty anymore, neither silent, constantly echoed in:
"mommy!" that's Johnny.
"ma'!" that one's Steve.
"mommaaaa!" that's Ponyboy complaining about something, no doubts.
"miss mommy!" those two are, no doubt, Two-Bit and Soda.
"mama~" that damn sing-song tone is Dallas'.
And yes, Johnny, you can read him a book even though he's clearly able to do it himself.
Yes, Steve, you know where his shirt is, but he can't go around shirtless like that.Yes, Ponyboy, you can give him a can of coke even tho he's obviously able to get it himself.
Yes, Soda and Two-Bit, you can put the channel in which they stream mickey mouse™ even if they already know which it is.
And yes—oh, actually no, Dallas, you won't shower him, he can do it himself.
Summary: you are desperately trying to help your boyfriend study so he can pass English but he just can’t find the motivation. That’s when you decide to make a game out of it.
Warnings/what’s going on: smut, Two-bit x fem reader, reader is not described, strip game, fingering, light orgasm denial, Two-bit thinking he’s funny, calling him Keith, pet names like baby, pretty girl, and princess, he just straight up steals you underwear, why are you surprised he’s a kleptomaniac, he slaps your ass like once, mentions of the gang, not proof read
🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍🪽🤍
You were sitting on you nice plush bed in your pajamas with papers strewn across the covers and two-bit sitting in front of you. You had been sitting like this for a good hour and a half and so far you had made no progress. There was a massive English test coming up and your boyfriend had begged and pleaded for help from everyone he knew. Ponyboy tried to help him with spelling, Darry tried to teach him proper grammar, and now you were attempting to teach him terminology. It wasn’t that he didn’t try or care, he did care. Neither of you could figure out how to make it stick.
“Listen princess , I love ya but it ain’t workin. I just ain’t graduating this year…”
All year he had been talking about graduating with you, getting a real job, supporting his mom, and even taking his sister to Disney world. It broke you to see so stressed and frustrated like this.
“Well… is there something wrong? The method, the time, is something other than school stressing you out?”
He just looked at you and shook his head. “I don’t know I just never gave a damn about English, im just not motivated to try I guess. I mean I’m motivated to graduate and all but just not motivated in the moment. I know it sounds stupid bu-“
“No! No no no no! I get it! I know what you mean!”
He looked a little more hopeful after you said that.
“So what do we do?” He scooted closer to you, crushing a stack of flash card under his leg.
“Well what usually motivates you?” You asked as you slid the card out from under his leg.
“Shit I don’t know. Food? Beer?”
You looked up at him with an overly exaggerated annoyed expression. “You know damn well that I would never let you eat or drink in my bed. Plus, I just washed my sheets.”
“Then I’m at a lost here sweetheart cuz if I ain’t drinkin somethin or if your not naked im not retaining jack shit.” He fell to the side, sprawling out on your mattress like a fat lazy cat. That’s when you got an idea. Your parents had gone out to have dinner at a friend’s house, and knowing them and how they liked to talk they would get home late. There was nobody in the house to interrupt or walk in on you.
“You know… I think I have an idea.” You stood from your spot on the bed and walked to the door, locking it before turning around.
“For every flash card you get right, I’ll get rid of a piece of clothing. And if you can get me naked then we can do whatever ya want.” You could feel your heart beat in your throat. Sure you had slept together already, hell you did it in a car but you never made it a game. You didn’t even know if he was into that sort of thing. Luckily for you he shut down that anxiety almost instantly.
“Oh hell yeah!” He shot up on the bed beaming with joy. You walked back to the bed but before you could sit down he was pulling you into his lap and kissing you neck.
You pushed him down and stood up before he could get any further. “You have to do actual work if you want it sweetheart. Give me the flash cards.”
You held out your hand as he placed them in your palm. But he wasted already back up and standing in front of you. “You’re no fun. I was just tryin ta get a lil taste.”
You flipped through a couple and sat across from him again. “And you’ll get it if you work for it, now sit.”
Without a word he sat back down and looked at you waiting for you to find a card.
“Look at you behaving! Do you know how to fetch and roll over to?” You said with an obnoxious high pitched voice like you were talking to a dog.
“Only for a treat sweetheart!”
You pulled a card from the stack. “Ok, we can start with the general knowledge stuff. The first word is ‘allegory’ so think Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
He paused for a moment, clearly thinking it over. After a minute or so he stoped “is it… thee um… way you right something, like the format thing? Shakespeare did it, he wrote all his stuff like that.”
You flipped it to show him the card. “Nope, that’s iambic pentameter and allegory is a narrative or visual representation that conveys a hidden meaning through symbolic figures, actions, or events. Like in the book how Dr. Jekyll is meant to represent good and Mr. Hyde is evil.”
He huffed and ran a hand over his face before sitting up and leaning against your bed frame. He draped his arms over the back and slouched down like he always did but something about the warm light from you lamp and the way he looked so cozy got to you in the best way possible. You shook yourself out of it before flipping to the next card.
“Ok this one is actually easier, it’s the small town we’re Shakespeare grew up and it’s the last name of the girl and her sister in our third period class.”
He smiled at you like an idiot. “Stratford. He grew up in Stratford.”
“That is correct.” You confirmed as you set the flash cards aside and undid the silky pink ribbon that held you robe together. You slid it off and let it drop to the floor beside your bed. Two-bits eyes almost immediately dropped to the low cut lace of your night gown.
After he got the second question right he hit a streak. He got almost every question after that right. You tried to start slow with just taking off your slippers but soon enough you were sitting on your bed shivering a little as you sat in nothing but your tight, lace panties. You flipped through that cards again looking for something challenging. Two-bit on the other hand was too distracted staring at your bare chest to pay attention to anything else. He could barely breathe as he palmed at the erection in his jeans.
“Oh-um… term is soliloquy. It’s a type of um… literary device. There’s a f-famous example of it in um Hamlet.” You sounded like an idiot. It wasn’t your fault of course you were sitting on your bed practically naked and soaking through your underwear. If he didn’t get this right you were going to tare your hair out.
“That’s thee um- when a character is… saying something that only the audience and them can hear. Right?” He looked absolutely desperate, like he was considering jumping across the bed to get to you.
“Yes!” Before you said anything else he took the cards from your hands and tossed them to the floor and pulled you into his lap. His fingers dug into your hips, pulling at the hem of your panties. His lips were soft against the skin of your neck. You felt his hands dip beneath the the lace and slid between your folds. He wasted no time pushing two of his fingers into you making an embarrassingly wet squelching sound.
“Jesus Christ you’re this wet from just givin me a lil strip tease? And I thought I was a horny fucker.”
You could feel you face heat up at his comment. “Don’t act like you didn’t almost cum in your pants when I took my robe off you pervert.”
He pulled you closer and held your face with his free hand. “How baout a kiss to make up for being a pervert huh?”
You leaned in and closed the gap, lifting your hips a bit to do so. His thick fingers curled in the way that hit the perfect spot inside you to make you shiver. He pumped his fingers in and out of you over and over rolling his thumb over you clit making you my legs twitch.
“I like when you do that. Ya know when you get all twitchy and stuff.” He pushed in and out a few more times just to watch. The feeling of his rough finger dragging in and out of you made your head spin. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter. You bucked your hips into his hand, rubbing your clit against his palm for any type of friction. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer but just before you could finish he pulled away, and brought his fingers to his mouth before sucking and licking clean.
“You taste so good every time princess.”
“Keith…” you whined out as you griped his shoulders.
“I know, but how bout we get these off.” He snapped the band of your underwear. He slipped his hands under your ass and lifted your hips up to pull them down.
As soon as they were off he balled them up into his palm. “How about I keep these for a while.” He said as he stuffed them into his back pocket.
“ pervert…”
“Well if I’m such a pervert” he lifted you up into his arms and dropped you back on the bed into your pile of pillows. “Then I guess I’ll just get goin!” He started for the window were he always left from when sneaking in but you grabbed his arm before he was out of reach.
“You’re not funny!”
He looked back at you and smiled again “Aww I knew you loved me! Come here!”
He was immediately on top of you and pulling under him. He tossed his shirt off the the side and started to undo his belt. He didn’t even bother taking his jeans all the way off before he was lining up the tip of his cock with you.
He moved forward slowly, stuffing each inch inside of you. “You sure you don’t want me to leave?”
“Keith! Please! I need it… I need it so bad! Please!” He was being a complete jack ass.
“What ever you what princess!” He pulled back and snapped his hips into you hard, bumping against the sweet spot just right. Once he got going he didn’t slow down. He kept pushing you into your pillows until you were practically drowning in them.
“You look so beautiful all fucked out and whiny on your nice silky sheets with the pretty lace, princess. can believe you would let a greaser in your bed. God, I’m the luckiest man alive.”
He stopped for a second leaving you pulling at the sheets for any friction. “Don’t stop! Please please please don’t stop I need you so bad!”
“Jesus baby be patient, like your always telling me.” He pushed you legs up until you knees where pressed against your sides, and started again setting a brutal pace.
“Here, hold this leg up for me princess. Wanna get a better angle so ya really feel it.” You grabbed a hold of your left heg for him, and as soon as you did you felt a hard slap across your ass.
“Ah! Keith!”
“I’m sorry honey you just look so pretty I can’t help it.” He rubbed the spot over and over before moving his hand again. He reached between your legs and found your clit again, pressing tight little circles to the sensitive area. You could barely think or see straight. The only things that reminded you that you were still on earth were the sheets you had a death grip on and the clinking of metal against metal from your boyfriend’s belt.
“I can’t do it! I wanna cum so bad!” Please I’m so close!” You could feel yourself spasm around him desperately, ready for any typ of release.
“I know princess just a lil longer. You just feel so good.” He pulled he hand away and as he did you could see the wet slick on his fingers.
“ open up, come on baby you taste so good ya just gotta trust me. You wanna cum right?” You nodded sheepishly to his question. “Alright then open your mouth.”
As soon as you opened you mouth he shoved both his fingers past you teeth and onto you tongue. The taste was slightly bitter.
“Come on now clean it up.” You did as he said and licked them clean before letting them go with a wet pop. A string of saliva dripped down onto your chest from his hand.
“There ya go pretty girl. You wanna cum?” He smiled down at you.
“Yes! Please yes!” His thrust was getting lazy and sloppier.
“Come on then princess! Cum on me!” You felt a whit hot heat rip through your body as you clapped down around his cock. Your back arched higher off the mattress with every thrust of his hips. Every wave of heat bringing the release you had been waiting for while reading those flash card.
“Oh fuck, Keith!” He didn’t stop his movements as you screamed out. As your orgasm subsided and you were able to see clearly you felt him pull out of you before shooting thick hot ropes over your ass and up your thighs.
“You look so pretty I could cum again.” He reached over to your night stand and grabbed the box of tissues you had and whipped you clean. After you were taken care of he slid his pants off the rest of the way and pulled back the covers. Once you were tucked in he slid in beside you, pulling you into his chest.
“If I pass this test I bragging about this to the whole gang. Actually I’m bragging either way.” He kissed the top of your head and laughed.
“If you graduated I would blow you in front of the whole gang if you wanted.”
“Jesus Christ baby! You can’t keep callin me a pervert when you goin around sayin shit like that out loud!”
