u1tr4-vio1ence

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

⋆ * ·˚ ࿔ kiss it off me

— bob hughes x art-therapist!reader (pt.2)

song 𝄞 kiss it off me by cigarettes after sex

warnings: language, pnv, f!receiving

as you stood outside the restaurant, checking your watch every couple of seconds, you eagerly awaited Bob's arrival. despite you being 15 minutes early, you couldn't help but feel that he wouldn't show. it was like a sour sensation in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, the kind you always got when you felt something bad was about to happen.

but that all went away when suddenly, you saw Bob walking toward you with a smile on his face and a cigarette in hand. he was wearing a white shirt with a grey flannel with the sleeves rolled up, similar to the outfit he was wearing the other day during his first art session.

he took one last hit of his cigarette, tossing it aside before finally stopping before you. "you ready?" he asked and you nodded with a smile. his hand found its way to your lower back, guiding you into the restaurant. as you entered, you saw that every table was full and you got nervous that you may need to go somewhere else. you began to mentally beat yourself up for not making a reservation when suddenly- "reservation under Hughs" Bob told the hostess, making you smile of relief as well as satisfaction that he had made a reservation, not many guys did. they often left it up to the woman to do it.

you were shown to a small table in the corner, one that was closed off and more reserved. "I made sure to get us a more quiet spot" he told you as the waitress set down menus in front of you.

"well aren't you thoughtful" you joked as you took a sip of the water that was already set on the table.

"I try" he shrugged with a smile, showing off his perfect teeth. god is he gorgeous you thought to yourself as you took in his appearance. he cleaned up nice, and that was a rare quality to find in a guy. especially one who is an ex-addict. not to say that he was dirty, but he looked cleaner. it appeared that Bob had combed his hair, shaved his stubble that he had had a few days ago, and had put on a few sprays of cologne, filling your nose with a pleasant smell, only making you want him more. "you know what ya' want?"

"yeah, i've been here a few times actually"

"with other dates?" he asked, a sly grin on his face. it seemed as though he was poking at you for fun, but at the same time, you knew that it was also a genuine question.

"no, just a few girlfriends of mine" you giggled, setting the menu down.

Bob scanned the menu for a few more moments before nodding and setting it down, both of you now waiting for the waitress to come back around so that the both of you could order.

"so, how'd you become an art therapist" Bob asked, saying art therapist in an almost mocking tone, which made you laugh.

"you still don't buy it do you?"

"nope." he said, grabbing the napkin off of the table and placing it over his lap, surprising you as not many men had table manners such as his.

"why?-" you were quickly cut off by the waitress appearing before you both. the both of you ordered your meals as well as drinks before the waitress walked away, once again leaving the both of you alone. "why?" you asked again, clearing your throat.

"well.. I don't know. therapy ain't really something I believe a lot in. and.. I dunno" he explained, whispering the last bit. it seemed as though he was holding back a lot of information, information that was too painful to rehash and share, so you didn't push it. "why did you become an art therapist?"

"uh.. well. my dad was an addict and.." you paused for a moment, wondering if you should go down such a dark path of stories. "after my mum died it pushed him to get better. so he went to art therapy every day and within a few weeks he was his old self again. it was like a miracle or something"

he looked at you sympathetically before placing his rough, calloused hands over yours. "sorry about your mother. mine don't talk to me no more" he said softly, his beautiful doe eyes staring back into yours, making your heart melt.

"i'm sorry" you whispered and he shrugged. you smiled at him, making him smile back at you. his smile and affection made you feel safe and loved, and despite having only known the man a total of 3 hours, you felt as if you've known him for a lifetime.

the moment of intimacy was unfortunately cut short when your drinks arrived, and any normal guy would've pulled his hand away, but Bob didn't. Bob wasn't a normal guy, and every moment he continued to prove that.

after an hour more of being at the restaurant, eating and laughing, it was time to leave. you had gotten to know Bob and his deep, kind hearted nature.

he told you about his time with his old gang and his ex-wife Diane. how Diane continued on with her drug driven life and had gotten with another member of their gang after he had left. you heart ached for him as he talked about the heartbreak he felt when she had left him after coming for a quick visit. and he ended with admitting that he was looking for love again, and even though he didn't say it, you knew that that new love.. was you.

after Bob paid, you two both made your way toward the end of the street before stopping. "so... i'll see you on monday?" you asked, Bob looked confused.

"why don't you uh.. come over? my apartments only a few blocks away." he said, pointing behind him.

you thought for a moment, biting your lip as you shifted on your feet. you knew that if you went back home with him, you two would sleep together. and it's not that you didn't want to, you did, desperately. the moment you saw him, your mind went to places that was between you and god. it was more about the fact that despite him not being your patient at that moment, he would be on Monday as soon as you both stepped inside of the rehab center, which may make it awkward. however, that's what you signed up for when you said yes and you decided that you would worry about that sort of thing when you got there.

"sure!" you exclaimed before beginning to walk with Bob to his apartment, your hands brushing against one another every other minute until he swiftly took his hands in yours, making your heart pound.

after talking one another's ears off as you walked all the way to Bobs apartment, you both stepped inside the empty and quiet elevator. the tension between the both of you was thick. you wanted nothing more for Bob to take you right there in that old, rickety elevator that was 2 pounds away from breaking down. but you were good and held yourself back, the both of you did. besides, the building was mostly filled with old people and the last thing you wanted was for grandma to walk in on Bob rutting into you against the wall.

Bob unlocked his apartment, both of you walking inside. it was small, but cozy as well as clean. it wasn't anything special, but it also didn't need to be. it was comforting and it smelt like him, like Bob.

"sorry it ain't much" he sighed, almost in embarrassment.

"Bob, it's fine. I love it actually. it's cozy and clean. not many guys apartments are nowadays." you said, making him laugh as he pulled out a box of cigarettes, offering you one after popping a cancer stick in his mouth. you gladly took one, sitting on the chair across from him as he lit both ends of your guy's cigarettes.

you let out an exhale of smoke, staring at Bob as he stared at you. both of you knew exactly what the other was thinking, and before the both of you could say anything or even think, your cigarettes were snuffed out on the ashtray and Bob was on top of you on his bed.

you two began to kiss passionately, Bobs hands sliding underneath your shirt as he rubbed circles on your waist. you fingers were threaded in his hair, your legs wrapped around his waist.

"you're so beautiful" he whispered into your ear before beginning to kiss your neck, causing you to whimper. his kisses continued to go lower and lower until he was by the hem of your pants. he looked up at you for permission, to which you nodded. he swiftly removed your jeans, tossing them onto the floor, leaving your bottom half practically naked.

he admired your choice of underwear, having an affinity for red lingerie. he rubbed soft circles on your clit over your panties, the material already soaked with your arousal.

you opened your legs wider, Bob smirking at the reaction he was getting from you. "take of your shirt baby, I wanna see those beautiful tits of yours" he whispered as he slowly dragged your panties off of your legs.

you obeyed, taking off your shirt before unclipping your bra, revealing your breasts, nipples hard and perked from the cool air. Bob smirked at the sight of you fully naked on his bed, legs already spread for him with a pathetic expression on his face. only last night was he having a wet dream about this, and now it was a reality.

"god.." he mumbled, kneeling in front of you on the mattress, your legs spread for him as he rubbed rough circles on your clit. "aren't you the most beautiful thing. and look at you, already so wet f'me.."

you bit your lip, attempting to muffle your moans as you gripped onto the sheets. "please Bob" you whimpered, and before you plead any further, he was on his knees on the floor before you, pulling you in by your thighs.

his mouth was on you in seconds, ravishing your pussy and lapping up every drop of your juice he could get. your hands tugged on his roots, making him groan. it took him all of his strength to not grind into the bed frame, his dick hard and strained against his jeans.

"fuck Bob!" you moaned out, grinding against his face out of desperation for more. "m'so close!"

Bob continued the same pace and pattern, his tongue feeling like heaven against your heat. he looked up at you with those doe eyes as you came, slurping up every drop of your cum as if it were his last meal.

he placed a few kisses against your sensitive pussy, waiting for you to come down from your high. "did so good baby" he whispered against your inner thigh before peppering soft kisses against your skin.

you pulled him up, passionately kissing him over and over as you helped him take his jeans off, revealing his boxers that were stained with pre-cum.

he took off his shirt as you helped take off his boxers, his dick springing free and slapping against his chest. the size of it made you nervous as you had never taken anything so big, and Bob could see that. he gave you a cocky smirk, leaning down to passionately kiss you once more. "don't worry baby, i'll take care of you. make you feel real good, yeah?"

he positioned his length at your entrance, running his tip through your folds, making you whine. he pushed himself into you slowly, both of you staring into one another eyes and watching your faces contort into expressions of pleasure.

he thrusted into you slowly, kissing all over your face whilst whispering sweet nothings into your ear. "you feel so good" he groaned, his hand gripping your thigh harshly.

"harder" you moaned, your nails digging into his back deeper as he obeyed your plea, practically pounding into you. "holyyy shit" you whined quietly. "oh baby"

the feeling of you clenching around him mixed with the sound of your whining and moaning only drew him closer and closer to the edge. "i'm gonna cum" he groaned as he moved his hand down to rub your clit.

"me too" you moaned out, pressing open mouth kisses to his neck. "cum with me" you said, holding his hand in yours as he stared deeply into your eyes, his forehead pressed against yours.

after a few more thrusts, he slams into you harshly once more, making you cum before spilling his seed onto your stomach.

the room was silent once again, the only thing filling it being panting and heavy breathing.

Bob collapsed beside you, the both of you staring up at the ceiling in a pleasure filled stupor. "jesus" you whispered, running your hands through your hair. you rolled over and laid your head on Bob's chest, his fingers quickly finding their way to your hair as he stroked lightly over the top of your head.

"did so good f'me" he whispered, kissing the top of your head. you looked up at him with a smile before passionately kissing me. "give me a second, yeah?"

Bob got up, putting on his boxers before walking over to his bathroom. you closed your eyes for a moment, listening to the water run as Bob soaked a rag with warm water. he walked back over to you, spreading your legs gently before cleaning up the mess he made.

he tossed the rag onto the table next to the bed, laying down next to you once again, throwing the covers over you both.

"tell me you'll come to the session tomorrow Bob?" you asked, fiddling with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"you kiddin?, I wouldn't miss it"

@avroravia @r0seb100d @johnnycadesslut @seilahdiaries

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happy birthday to one of the few ppl that r keeping me going^_^

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conflicted

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

requests r open again! feel free to send me any asks! 😁 (keep in mind i only really write for black! reader)

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

Success For My Buddies, Success For My Friends.

pairing. Bsf ! Dallas Winston x Black ! Fem ! Reader.

content. Fluff. Platonic relationship(obvi). Short fic. Barely proofread.

DUE TO THE END OF SCHOOL AND SUMMER’S arrival, Dallas walked to your house, not to do anything in particular, but with your newfound free time, he thought you would enjoying hanging out together. When he texted you, you left him on delivered, so he took that as sign to go to your house anyway since he knew you’re parents wouldn't be home.

He stepped up to the front door and knocked; however, nobody answered. After a minute he knocked again until the door opened. His eyes widened at your hair stuffed in a bonnet and tired eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

“What do you want, Dally?" you blinked at him, ignoring his disgusted tone.

“Thought we’d hang out, doll. What’s wrong?”

"I don’t feel like hanging out today, okay? Maybe tomorrow,” you began to close the door, but he placed his hand on the wood, holding it open.

"No, c’mon, don't be like that,” he stepped inside; you groaned.

"No, Dallas, I’m tired.”

"Cryin’ in bed ain't gonna make you feel better,” he grabbed your wrist and led you to your bedroom; he sat you down and searched through your drawers for clothes before throwing jeans and a t-shirt at you. He clicked his teeth as you whined and complained. "Hurry up and change, Doll,” he turned around, back facing you.

YOU SQUINTED FROM THE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT AS IT rained on your body. You blocked your eyes with your hands, making Dallas chuckle. "Why didn't you get some sun glasses, stupid?”

"I planned on staying at home,” you said, glaring at him.

He took you into a movie theater, cool air enveloping your warm body. "What movie do you wanna see?” he asked.

"Do you even have money for a movie?”

"Answer the question, doll.”

"I don't know, you choose,” you shrugged.

He scoffed and took out money for two movie tickets.

He bought a small bucket of popcorn and held it for you as you sat in your seats. He ate most of it before the movie began. You reached your hand in, your fingers brushing the bottom of the bucket.

“Dallas,” you groaned.

“What?”

“You ate all the popcorn.”

“No, there’s still popcorn.”

“Barely."

As the movie began, Dallad glanced at you, watching as you slowly relaxed. After a stupid joke, you chuckled, and he couldn't stop the soft smile, which his lips curled into.

You glanced at him. “What?"

“Nothing," he looked away.

YOU STEPPED OUT OF THE MOVIE THEATER, heat from the sun replacing the cool air kd the theater. You groaned as you walked along the sidewalk. "I’m never letting you choose a movie ever again.”

" You should’ve chose the movie then, doll,” he said, lighting the cigarette between his lips.

You walked past a small ice cream shop and immediately tugged on Dallas’ arm. "C’mon, let’s go in there,” you point toward the store.

"Doll—”

You pouted. “Please?"

He rolled his eyes. “Let me finish this first," he referred to his cigarette. He stomped it out and stepped into the shop. He allowed you to order some type of ice cream sundae. He stared at you as you ate.

You glanced at him. “Want some?"

“No, it’s okay," he shook his head.

“I don't mind. It’s good,” you raised your spoon to his face.

Reluctantly, he took it and ate the ice cream. You watched for his reaction. “Good, isn't it?”

He shrugged. “It’s alright.”

You scoffed. “You’re so annoying.”

“You’re feeling better.”

“Maybe,” you glanced at the ice cream as he smirked, unwilling to admit the truth.

“Told you moppin’ around wasn't gonna make you feel better.”

“Whatever.”

He chuckled at the way you rolled your eyes. “You know I’m right."

“I said, whatever, Dallas."

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

bsf ! Dallas Winston x Black ! Fem ! Reader.

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

bob hughes x teacher!reader <3

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────۶ৎ rehearsal

or... the older + experienced! pornstar! dallas winston fic you all were so eager for🤭

warnings : this fic is fully nsfw! <333

ᐟᐟ ⟢ a/n: RAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH IM FERAL FOR THIS MAN OMFG PLS SEND REQUESTS FOR THIS AU IM FERAL

You’re barely in the door of the private studio loft when you feel his eyes on you.

It’s quiet—just the two of you. No cameras yet. No crew. Just a single light glowing over the couch.

Dallas Winston is lounging in the middle of the room like he owns it. Boots up on the coffee table, shirt open halfway down his chest, muscles stretched, and a slow, cocky smirk tugging at his mouth like he already knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You try to act confident. You practiced in the mirror, fixed your lipstick three times before you came.

But when his eyes drag down your body—slow, deliberate, possessive—you feel like he strips away every inch of that fake composure.

“Well,” he drawls, voice rough, low, lazy like a lit cigarette. “Look at you. Barely legal and already thinking you’re ready for a scene with me.”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t look away. You force your chin up.

He grins wider. “That’s cute. Real cute.”

He pushes up from the couch with that signature Dally swagger—slow, predatory, loose hips and zero shame. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, so close you feel the heat of his chest through your shirt. His hand lifts, just two fingers, and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear like he’s staking a claim.

“You ever been touched by someone who actually knows what the fuck they’re doing?” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

His thumb brushes your lower lip, slow, filthy. “Nah. Didn’t think so.”

Then he’s walking behind you, circling. “This ain’t like your little solo clips on OnlyFans, sweetheart. This ain’t blushing selfies and softcore bullshit. You’re with me now.”

His breath is at your neck before you can turn around.

“I ruin girls like you.”

The words settle low in your stomach—like fire.

And still, he doesn’t touch.

“Private rehearsals,” he says smoothly, “are for making sure my co-star can take what I give her. And right now? You look like you’re about to melt from just standing there.”

His hand finally comes down, palm heavy on your hip. His grip is warm, firm, not asking.

“You wanna be my partner on set? You learn my rhythm.” His voice slides against your ear. “You learn how to take direction. How to open up for me. How to moan the way I like. Not for the camera. For me.”

You nod, breath catching.

“Words,” he says. “Use ’em.”

“Yes.”

His grin sharpens.

“Good girl.”

Then he spins you around, one swift tug pulling your hips flush to his. You can feel the heat of him, the hardness pressing through his jeans. Your thighs clench.

He notices.

“Oh, fuck. Look at you. Already soaked, aren’t you?” His hand slides up your thigh, fingertips ghosting just under the hem of your skirt. “All that sass and attitude on your profile, and here you are, dripping for me before we even start.”

He hooks a finger in your panties, just enough to tug—just enough to tease.

“This ain’t your scene, baby. Not yet. This is mine.”

And then he pulls you down onto the couch, flat on your back, his body sliding over yours with practiced ease. His knee nudges your legs apart, his hand pinning your wrist above your head.

You whimper. It slips out before you can bite it back.

He laughs.

“Oh yeah,” he mutters. “You’re gonna be fun to train.”

His breath fans over your neck as he keeps you pinned beneath him, one strong hand wrapped around your wrist, the other sliding down your thigh like he owns it.

“You feel that?” he murmurs, hips pressing slowly between your legs.

You nod, your breath stuttering.

He grinds, hard and slow. “That’s your first lesson, sweetheart.”

You whimper, legs instinctively parting wider for him. Your body’s already betraying you, hips tilting up, silently begging for more friction. But Dallas—he's not rushing.

He smirks, that dirty mouth brushing your ear. “Goddamn, you’re sensitive. Haven’t even touched your pussy yet, and you’re already squirming.”

He lets your wrists go for a second just to grab both of them in one hand and pin them to your chest, right where he can feel your heartbeat thudding like a drum.

Then his free hand trails lower.

Lower.

Straight up your inner thigh until he finds the soaked fabric between your legs.

“Fucking knew it,” he growls. “You’re soaked through. You come in here pretending you’re ready for me, and you can’t even keep your panties dry.”

You bite your lip—trying not to moan as he rubs two fingers slowly over the damp spot, pressing just hard enough to make your thighs shake.

“You want it?” he asks, voice rough, teasing.

“Yes,” you whisper.

He grins. “What was that?”

“Yes, Dally.”

He raises a brow. “Atta girl.”

Then he rips your panties aside and drops between your thighs like a man who’s been starving for this. No warmup. No teasing now. His tongue buries itself into you in one filthy stroke, and your whole body jerks.

“Oh—fuck!”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t let up. His hands grip the backs of your thighs, forcing them wide, holding you open while his tongue works you in tight, practiced circles. Up and down. Side to side. Flicking your clit until your moans echo off the studio walls.

You try to pull away, your body shaking, but he grabs your hips and slams them back down into his mouth.

“You don’t run from me,” he growls, voice muffled against your pussy. “You take it.”

Then he flattens his tongue and drags it over your clit, again and again, until your head falls back and you sob out his name.

“D-Dallas—!”

“That’s it,” he mutters, voice filthy, mouth slick. “Let ‘em hear how good I eat.”

He sucks your clit between his lips, tongue flicking mercilessly until your thighs are trembling, breath catching, heat exploding behind your ribs.

You’re so close. You can feel it. Your whole body is tightening, trembling.

“Wait—please, I’m gonna—”

And then he pulls back.

You sob, hips jerking up, desperate for him to keep going, but he just leans back, mouth wet with you, eyes gleaming.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and smirks. “Lesson two.”

You stare, panting, desperate, legs spread and twitching beneath him.

Dallas leans over you, voice low, smug, cruel in the hottest fucking way.

“You don’t get to cum until I say so.”

Your body is still trembling beneath him—slick, ruined, and so close to the edge it hurts. But Dally doesn’t care.

He lives for this. The way your lips are parted, your thighs shaking, pupils blown wide with desperation.

He grins, slow and sharp, watching you writhe.

“Look at you,” he mutters, dragging a finger through your slick folds, barely brushing your clit. “Fucking soaked and still begging for it like you got any say in how this goes.”

You’re too breathless to speak. But he reads it in your eyes—how badly you want him. How badly you need to know what it feels like to be fucked by the Dallas Winston.

He rises to his knees, undoing his belt with one hand while the other stays planted firm on your thigh, holding you open like a prize.

The belt snaps free.

The zipper drops.

And then—

His cock.

Long. Thick. Veiny. Heavy. Slapping against his stomach as he strokes it, slow, deliberate, like he’s letting you watch just to make you melt.

“Eyes on me,” he orders.

You look.

He strokes his cock from base to tip with a practiced roll of his wrist. “You ever taken something this big before?”

You swallow. “N-no.”

He chuckles, dark and warm and cruel. “Then you’re about to learn real fast.”

He lines himself up—thick head sliding through your folds, teasing, coating himself in your slick. He presses just enough to stretch you open a little… then pulls back.

You whimper.

“Patience, baby,” he mutters, his voice a low growl. “Gotta stretch you open nice and slow, or you won’t last five minutes.”

And then he pushes in.

One inch.

Two.

Your mouth drops open. Your hands clutching at the couch cushions as he sinks deeper. He’s thick, and you feel every inch of it, stretching you, pressing into spots you didn’t even know existed.

He grits his teeth, eyes locked on the way your body takes him.

“Fuck,” he growls. “Tightest. Fucking. Pussy. I’ve ever had.”

You moan, high and breathless, your walls clenching involuntarily as he buries himself to the hilt.

“That’s it,” he groans, hips flush to yours. “Take all of me. Good girl.”

He gives you a second to adjust—but not much more. Because then?

He starts to move.

Slow, brutal thrusts at first—grinding in deep, pulling back to the head, then slamming back in until your whole body rocks under him.

Your moans break apart like waves. “D-Dally, I—”

He grabs your throat. Not squeezing, just holding, steady, dominant.

“Yeah? You feel that?” he pants. “Feel how deep I am inside this sweet, lil' pussy? That’s what you signed up for.”

You nod, eyes rolling back as he starts pounding harder. His body slapping into yours, sweat slicking his chest, the couch creaking beneath the rhythm of him fucking you open like you’re made for him.

“God, you sound so fucking good,” he growls, watching your tits bounce, your lips parted in ecstasy. “Bet you didn’t think you’d cum with my cock this deep, huh?”

Your orgasm crashes into you without warning.

Your thighs clamp around him, nails digging into his arms, your moan ripped from deep inside as you fall apart under him—shaking, gasping, completely gone.

But he doesn’t stop.

“Uh-uh,” he growls, pounding harder, faster. “You don’t tap out now. You take it.”

His thrusts get rougher, more erratic—his body tightening as he chases his release.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill this pretty pussy up, make it mine—let everyone on set know who broke you in—”

And then he growls, deep in his throat, his hips slamming into you one final time as he cums—hot, deep, messy—his cock twitching inside you while your body shudders under the weight of it all.

The room goes quiet.

Just the sound of panting. Sweat. Trembling thighs. His cock still buried inside you.

Dallas leans over, smirks against your ear, voice gravel-rough and smug.

“Rehearsal’s over, baby.”

He kisses your neck.

“Tomorrow, we film.”

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No One Noticed.

pairing. Brother's Best Friend ! Dallas Winston x Black ! Fem ! Reader.

content. Fluff. Shy!reader. ooc! Dallas, but idc. anytime imagined this fanfic, i imagined r's brother to be brent faiyaz, but imagine who h want🤷🏽‍♀️.

BROTHER’S BEST FRIEND!DALLAS, WHO always hung out with your brother whether they were at a party or at your home. Sometimes your parents forced your brother to take you with him, which he rarely complained about, but Dallas did—never around you.

While you sat in the corner at Buck’s, Dallas leaned into your brother’s ear. “Why does she gotta be here, man?"

“Relax, my mom made me bring her.”

Dallas scoffed.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who noticed how quiet you were. When he came over, you typically watched television silently or read a book. He’d ask if your brother was home, and you would just nod.

Dallas entered your house, glancing around. “Where’s your brother?"

“He’s in his room," you answered shortly and sat on the couch, returning to your book.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who teases you about your bashfulness, amused by your quietness.

“What are you so quiet for? I ain’t gonna bite,” he said as you walked along the sidewalk.

You shrugged, which made him scoff.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who, one night, needed to be picked up from jail. He called your house, expecting your brother to be home, but he was hanging out at his girlfriend’s house. So, you answered the phone.

You could hear Dallas scoff after he heard your voice.

“Where’s your brother?” he asked.

“He’s at his girlfriend’s house. I can pick you up if you want,” you said.

“Yeah, that’s great.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who felt nervous as he sat in your parents’ car with you. You remained silent, the soft music playing on the radio filling the silence. He didn’t understand the reason why he felt anxious, but he did.

He pulled a cigarette out from his pocket, but you stopped him.

“You can’t smoke in here.”

He sighed and put the cigarette back.

“I can take you to my house. My brother’ll be home soon.”

“Thanks.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who felt unreasonably guilty as you grabbed blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the couch. You prepared the couch just so he could be comfortable. People rarely showed him that kindness. Most people wouldn't spare any generosity for a greaser like him.

“Didn’t mean to, uh, wake you earlier,” he said as you stood at the phone after calling your brother, telling him about Dallas. He stared at your soft face, silky, curly covering the sides.

“No,” you answered. “I was awake anyway. Good night, Dally.”

“Night.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who, one day, had to walk you home after school because work kept your brother busy.

“Where’s my brother?” you asked softly.

“Busy,” he answered, stomping his cigarette out on the ground. “I’m walking you today.”

“Okay.”

While you were walking, he spoke up, “Thanks for picking me up the other night.”

“You’re welcome.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who hated how shy you were, so he decided to force Johnny and Ponyboy to ask you to go to the drive-in—he just wanted you to say yes.

“Uh, we’re going to the drive-in with Dally, and he—we—wanted to know if you wanted to come?” Johnny asked.

“Okay,” you agreed.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who was nervous to go to the drive-in with you. He actually prepared before he left, picking out the cleanest clothes he had, the best cologne he had, and even stole a book for you.

As you all walked along the sidewalk, he tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, doll, got you something,” he said, giving you the book.

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised.

“Oh, thank you.”

He watched as you flipped through the book, glancing through the pages. He stared at your face for your reaction, satisfaction entering his body as you smiled softly.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who felt responsible for you as he sat next to you while the movie played.

He bothered a Soc, who sat in front of you, until they got mad and yelled at him. He scoffed, his face growing slightly red as he glanced at you. Annoyed, he stomped away, leaving you with Ponyboy and Johnny, who left soon after—likely going to the lot.

You were left alone to watch the movie. You picked at your nails until you heard somebody sit beside you. You glanced at them only to see it was Dallas.

“Sorry, doll,” he apologized. “Need to blow off some steam.”

“It’s okay.”

He would’ve just left and gotten into a fight, but he couldn’t leave you alone—partly because you were his best friend’s sister, but also because he knew you were so quiet, he knew you wouldn’t be able to do anything if something happened.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who suddenly talked to you more. You could be reading while listening to music on the radio, and he’d ask you about the book (he wouldn’t care—he just wanted to hear you talk), or you could be doing homework, and he’d ask what you were working on.

Your parents forced your brother to take you with him to Buck’s. You sat in the corner, reading, while everybody else drank and danced. Dallas stepped toward you.

“What’re you reading, doll?” You showed him the book cover. “Tell me about it.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who would sneak off while hanging out with your brother to talk to you, feeding him some excuse that he was going to the bathroom.

He knocked on your bedroom door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Hey, doll,” he said, glancing at you reading a book in bed.

“Hey, Dallas,” you looked up at him. “Thought you were with my brother?”

He entered the room and sat at the edge of your bed.

“I am. Can’t talk to my girl?”

You chuckled. “I’m not your girl, Dal.”

He smirked at your soft giggle, enjoying being one of the few people who could make you laugh and smile.

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who is unusually nice to you compared to others. Typically, if he liked a girl, he acted like a dick—unnecessarily rude to them—until he finally asked them out. Most passed it off as him being nice to his best friend’s sister.

After offering to walk you home, he took you to the Dingo. He sat beside you in the booth, glaring at any guy who looked your way. When the waitress stepped to your table and took your orders, he answered for you, even ordering you a milkshake.

“You didn’t have to,” you said.

“I wanted to.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who comes over one day just to see you.

He knocked on the door, expecting you to answer, as he knew your brother was at work, yet he still became anxious when he saw you at the door.

“My brother isn’t home,” you told him.

“I’m not here for him, doll. I wanna see you,” he said.

“Oh.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who, while hanging out with you, finally expresses his feelings.

“Doll,” he lowered the book you read from your hands, “you ever think about getting a boyfriend?”

“Well, yeah, but nobody asks me out,” you answered.

“What if I asked you out?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Dally—”

“You tellin’ me you don’t think of me? Of us? I know I ain’t your type, doll, but . . . .”

You blinked at him, words stuck in your throat, unwilling to release.

He released a dry laugh. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who is quick to close himself off and act as mean and tough as he does with everybody else once he feels that you’re going to reject him.

“Nah, you’re not my type anyway,” he said, pushing off your bed.

“What? No, I do like you, Dally,” you reached for him, fingers wrapping around his wrist to pull him down.

“Don’t play with me, doll. Y’know, you’re in my head; I can’t get you out. Don’t tell your brother, alright?”

You shook your head. “I won’t. I swear.”

Brother’s best friend!Dallas, who is relieved to know you share the same feelings—that he isn’t weird for liking his best friend’s sister, that you felt the same.

He lay in your bed, listening to you read as he requested despite the fact he didn't care nor understand what you were saying. He admired your features: how soft you spoke and how your curly hair framed your face.

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

begging you to write something along the lines of dallas fingering/rubbing reader at the dinner table/ during a movie night ect in front of darry and his wife

only if you want ofc

something about the way dbf!dallas is so composed even when his fingers are stuffed in your panties… while your dad is sitting two feet away from you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the gentle clatter of the cutlery against the plates echoed throughout your humble dining room. you ate peacefully, with dallas to your right and your parents sat across from you.

you listened as your dad talked about how hectic work was, and dallas occasionally chimed in with a small remark. too tired to pay any attention, you just ate dinner and fantasized about enjoying some long-awaited rest.

that was, until you felt dallas’ big hand cup your thigh. you let out a small squeak, drawing the attention of your dad.

“you good, honey?” he asked, voice half-concerned and half-confused.

“yeah- just got hiccups or something.” you feigned innocence, going back to your dinner like you couldn’t feel dallas’ fingertips rubbing all up on your inner thigh.

your breath hitched as you felt dallas tracing his fingers higher and higher to your upper thigh. looking up at him, you noticed how unbothered he was. dallas was eating his dinner and laughing alongside your dad like his fingers weren’t toying with the seams of your cotton panties.

eventually, after moments of relentless teasing, dallas caved. his thick fingers slipped under the soft fabric, and he ran his fingers up and down your vulva.

despite the constant fear of being caught, it didn’t occur to you to mind. with the way dallas worked his fingers, his palm rubbing on your clit while he fingered you? how could a girl complain?

regardless, the second you finished eating, you swatted dallas’ hand out of your panties and excused yourself from the table to take a quick shower before bed.

as you sat on your bed, skin soft and slightly damp from the hot water, you heard the gentle creaking of your bedroom door. looking up from your floor, you saw dallas strolling inside without a care in the world.

“dal’ are you serious?” you whisper-shouted, looking up at him with a soft pout like your panties weren’t soaked with arousal. “what is wrong with you?”

“what? c’mon, kid, you liked it…” he dismissed, looking down at you with a devilish grin. “look, i ain’t itchin’ to get caught by your old man… i was jus’ having a little fun.”

you rolled your eyes with an irritated groan, like the sight of dallas’ bulge in his grey sweatpants wasn’t making your clit throb. the two of you fell into a comfortable silence as he clicked the lock of your bedroom door shut before walking up to you.

dallas looked down at you, his hand cupping your jaw while his thumb rubbed your bottom lip. his eyes were clouded with lust, admiring the sight of you in your tiny sleep shorts and thin white tank top.

“i’ll make it up to you… ‘kay, baby?”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

taglist - @diorgirl444, @r0seb100d, @twobitsblade, @johnnycadesslut, @browneyebby, @glxsyymads, & @mystiqueonfleek007.

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

after 10 years, i finally did it.

its truly a wonder to me that nobody has made a fic with brother best friend!dallas yet..

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

Do You Like My Fake Nails, Daddy?

pairing. Billy Butcher x Black ! Fem ! Reader.

content. Angst. Smut—oral sex, blow job, face fucking, degradation, praise kink. Supe ! reader. R is in the Seven. Billy being a cunt. Takes place in season 4.

YOU THOUGHT BUTCHER HATED YOU. HE constantly made slick, mean comments about you, and when he complimented you, there were always backhanded—nearly insults in disguise. The rest of the boys and Annie liked you, so for Butcher to act so disgruntled toward you confused you, not to mention he came to you for help.

You understand his dislike of supes as you questioned Hughie about it, but you weren't Homelander and you treated everyone fairly. You remained nice to Butcher even though he continued to be rude and hateful.

One night, you begged him to give you a ride home, which he did surprisingly. Being polite, you invited him inside your apartment, and to your shock he accepted. However, after one backhanded comment, you snapped, nearly yelling at him, trying to understand why he hates you so much until he grabbed your face, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your cheek, and told you in a firm tone that he didn't hate you, but that still didn't explain how you almost made out with him, or how you got into this position—him sitting on your couch, trench coat thrown elsewhere, and you kneeling between his spread legs.

His hand resting on your hair, Butcher pushed your head from his tip to the base of his cock, forcing you to slowly breathe through your nose as you struggled to take him due to his size. "That's it," he groaned, his hips bucking into your mouth to make shallow thrusts, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You gagged and pushed away, palms pressing into his thighs, but his strong hand kept you down.

Each time his tip brushed against the back of your throat you choked and gagged, tears forming around your eyes. "That's it, take it, love. Like you were made for this," he leaned his head back against the couch, his grunts and groans filling your ears like a sweet melody you wished to hear more.

You relaxed your tongue and allowed him to push you further until his pubic hair nearly brushed your nose. You choked back coughs at the harsh thrust of his hips. "Startin' to think you get off on this," he said, voice rough and raspy from pleasure. "Like gettin' used like a little cockslut, chokin' on my cock, don't you?"

He removed his hand from your hair, allowing you to lift your head, a string of saliva connected from his dick to your lips. You gasped for air, panting. Spit dripped from your chin to your shirt, a sight Butcher would memorize for later.

He knew he shouldn't use you like this. You showed nothing but kindness and cooperation toward him despite how much of a cunt he acted, but you were a supe, and a member of The Seven on top of that. You could've been feeding Homelander information, and they wouldn't even know because of that stupid sweetheart act you put on. However, he knew how insane that idea sounded, and he only used it as an excuse—a reason to treat you so harshly.

Despite how he acted, he enjoyed your company, how you followed him around, following each and every order he gave to the most miniature detail, and allowing him to take his anger and pain out on you—verbally and now, physically.

You didn't deserve this. He was horrible, a bad man.

He sunk his hand in your textured hair and tugged down for you to stare up at him. "Use your words, love. You like gettin' used like this?"

"Yes," you nodded. How could he feel bad when you were practically begging for his attention.

"Good girl," he gave you the praise you yearned for.

You wrapped your hand around the base of his dick, causing him to thrust upward. You stroked him slowly, glancing at his facial expression for approval. He looked down at you, eyes catching the pink nails you wore, how the glossy color contrasted against your skin, and the rough, lighter surface of his.

"Fuckin' hell," He groaned. You were too good for him. "Just a little faster, love. Yeah, that's it, that's it."

He became putty in your hands, his hips jerking into your touch, almost squirming as your nails dragged across his cock. It turned you on. How he sat on your couch, legs spread for you, some his chest visible due to the unbuttoned buttons of his stupid hawaiian shirt.

Butcher didn't like that. You shouldn't seem him like that—vulnerable, submissive, and in front of a supe no less. He placed his hand on the back of your head. "Take a deep breath, love, don't want you suffocating on my cock."

You inhaled before he pushed you down, your lips wrapping around his cock. You sucked, cheeks hollowing while your tongue lay beneath the veins of his dick. He thrusted into the warmth of your mouth chasing his coming climax.

He attempted to be gentle, but he didn't care, so he slowly pushed your head further, pulling for coughs and gags from you. Saliva and pre-cum piled around your plump lips, turning him on more. "That's it, lovie. M'gonna come down that tight little throat of yours. Look up at me. I wanna see those tears."

Focused on his pleasure, you didn't realize you had begun to cry, but you followed his command and stared at him.

Looking down into your big eyes nearly made him come right then. He leaned his head back as your throat convulsed around his cock, pushing him closer until he couldn't hold it. "Fucking—" he cut himself off. You choked as he came down your throat, forcing you to swallow.

He allowed you to lift your head and breathe again. You wiped the saliva, cum, and tears from your face and glanced at him as he stuffed himself into his pants. You searched for his approval—for some confirmation that you did good for him.

"This ain't something I do," he said. "'Specially not with supes. Don't think this changes anything even if you are a good cunt."

You sighed. At least he thought you were, right?

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

i want to deep throat butchers cock choking on it with tears in my eyes while my face is buried against his pubes

i swear to god this is basically all i think about

i wanna have irritated skin from his pubes

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

.... Angel

[u1tr4-vio1ence]

dally likes his girls to be a little chubby fr.