#pintrestgrl

boyfriend!dallas is innocent!readers first

you were sitting on his lap when it happened. his hands were on your hips, your head tucked into his neck, and the movie playing in the background had been long forgotten. you’d whispered something dumb, something you meant as a joke. something about riding him like the girl in the movie rode that stupid horse— and dallas froze.

then he laughed. not mean, but not sweet either. that crooked grin you knew too well.“ you say shit like that,” he said, dragging his hands a little lower, “but you get all squirmy if i even talk about gettin’ your shirt off.” your face burned. “i was just— i didn’t mean it like—”

“nah,” he cut you off, amused. “don’t walk it back now. i know how your brain works.” you whined a little, burying your face into his neck. he pulled back just enough to look at you. “dirty little mind, huh? always thinkin’ nasty, but you still blush every time i grab your ass.”

you tried to push him away, but he held you there, grinning. “s’ alright, baby. i like it. you think nasty, but you’re still all— soft. untouched.”

“i’m not untouched,” you mumbled. he raised a brow. “sweetheart, i’ve touched you plenty. but you haven’t been touched yet, not like that. not properly.” you didn’t say anything. you didn’t need to. he could read you too easy— could tell just by the way your thighs shifted on his lap that you were thinking about it now. thinking about him.

and he leaned in, voice lower, rougher. “you want me to be the first, huh?” you nodded slowly, breathing shallow. “yeah.”

he kisses you for a long time first— deep and slow, like he’s trying to calm you down, or maybe like he’s already imagining how you’ll sound when he’s inside you. every time you shift under him, he smiles into your mouth like he knows you’re trying to hide how badly you want it. “take these off,” he mutters, tugging lightly at the waistband of your shorts. “let me see you.”

you’re shy, but you do it. he sits back on his knees as you slide them down, and his eyes drag over your thighs, your panties, the way you’re already wet through the cotton. he laughs lowly, mumbling. “well, shit.” he groans. “little miss innocent is all wet.”

your heart’s pounding. you mumble back, embarrassed. “im sorry—” he leans down and kisses your inner thigh, slow and hot. “no, babydoll. that’s a good thing. just means your ‘bout ready.” he mouths over the damp spot between your legs and hums. “anyone ever touched down here, kid?”

you bite your lip, shaking your head. “only me.” he grins. “gonna change that.” and he does— spreads your legs open and drags your panties down your thighs, then settles between them like he’s getting comfortable. he licks a slow stripe up your slit, then groans again. “you taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

your fingers dig into the sheets the second he flattens his tongue against your clit. he keeps the pressure steady, slow but firm, and when your hips jerk, he just grabs your thighs tighter and holds you down. he’s way too good at this. almost makes you remember how experienced he was, and how experienced you weren’t. almost.

“that’s it, baby.” he mumbled between your thighs, the vibration making you squirm. “don’t fight it.” your breath gets quicker, little whimpers breaking free as his tongue circles you, flicks over your clit, then dips lower to tease at your entrance. your thighs tremble.

“dallas—“ you breath out. you don’t even have to finish your sentence. he can tell you’re close. “go ahead,” he murmurs, thumb replacing his mouth so he can talk. “cum for me, baby. you got it.”

when you do, he moans against you, like your body reacting to him turns him on more than anything else. and once you stop shaking, he crawls back up your body and kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “you feel ready now?” he asks, against your mouth. you hum a yes, making him grin.

he groans low in his throat. “shit, you’re gonna wreck me, kid.” you feel the blunt head of him press against your entrance, and you go still. he slows down a bit, not fully. “dont freak out on me now, baby. gonna give me blue balls.” you bite your lip. “i know, ‘m sorry. just nervous.”

“i got you, doll.” he kisses your jaw, your cheek, your lips. “i’ll go real slow.” he starts to push in, and even though it burns at first, he doesn’t stop touching you— his hand slips between your legs, rubs slow circles over your clit to ease the stretch. he watches your face the whole time.

“god, you’re fuckin’ tight,” he grits out, voice shaky. “can barely get in.” you cling to his shoulders, and finally, he bottoms out. you’re full in a way you’ve never been before— stretched, aching, but god, you’ve never felt anything like it.

he holds still, letting you breathe. “tell me when,” he says softly. “i’m not movin’ ‘til you say.” after a minute, the burn fades into something else. needier, deeper. you nod. “okay.”he starts to move— slow, shallow thrusts that drag along every inch inside you. you gasp, nails digging into his back.

“you feel me, sweetheart?” he groans, starting to push in deeper. “feel me fuckin’ you open?” you nod, dizzy with it. “feels good, dal.”

“yeah, it does.” his lips brush your ear. “you were made for me, baby. perfect lil’ cunt, all mine. all innocent.” the filth just pours out of him— “so warm,” and “so fuckin’ tight,” and “i’ll ruin you for anyone else.” but every word is laced with something softer underneath it. awe, almost. like he can’t believe he gets to be the first. like he’s obsessed with it.

he lifts your leg up over his shoulder and thrusts in deeper. you gasp, louder this time, and he groans like he’s losing control. “that’s it,” he pants. “you like it like that, huh? deep? bet you touched yourself imagining this.” you nod frantically, tears pricking at your lashes. “dallas— i’m gonna—”

“cum for me, baby,” he growls, picking up the pace. “let me feel it.” you fall apart with his name on your lips, and he fucks you through it, grinding in slow until your walls stop clenching. only then does he let himself go— pulling out and finishing all over your stomach with a rough groan.

he collapses beside you, dragging you into his chest immediately. “you good?” he asks after a second, voice rough and low. you nod, dazed and sore and glowing. he kisses your temple, before reaching over to the table and grabbing a cigarette. “you’re too fuckin’ sweet for me, kid.” he mumbles, shaking his head with a grin.

you hum, sleepy. “yeah. always was.” and dallas just grins, cause he already knew.

a/n : this is cute i like

they start off as strictly fuck buddies (according to rafe) and she’s just so empathetic and kind, she can’t help but want to love him since clearly no one else does. He dismisses any affectionate attempts that sweetheart!reader does towards him, assuming that was just her being her, not knowing she truly does love and care for him.

She decides to bring him cupcakes or something and little does she know.. he has another girl over.. ( reader doesn’t end up finding out) that moment changed something in rafe

Idk if this made sense lol

sweetheart!reader n mean!rafe

you shouldn’t be nervous. not for someone who never calls you before midnight. not for someone who’s made it perfectly clear what this is—and what it isn’t. but your hands still shake on the steering wheel. your heart still stutters when you pull into his driveway.

you have a box of cupcakes in your lap. pink frosting with hand-piped little hearts. you made them yourself like an idiot, thinking of the time he said he liked strawberry anything while he fed you like some man out of a book. you told yourself it wasn’t romantic. it was just a joke. just something fun. you’re always telling yourself things that aren’t true

“made you something sweet. be there in 5 <3.” you hit send before you can regret it. it doesn’t feel like a random hookup anymore, not to you. hasn’t in a long time. maybe it never did. you keep hoping, maybe, this time— he’ll look at you like he means it. like you matter, like he sees you.

what you didnt know was that inside, rafe was fucking someone else. some random touron. she didn’t mean anything, he didn’t even remember her name. he was just high. trying to feel something, anything. he didn’t expect his phone to light up with your name.

his whole body froze. he pulled out of the forgotten girl, got off the bed, and looked through the window. there you were, walking up the steps, smiling pretty enough to kill him while holding cupcakes in both hands like a gift.

he pulled some jeans on quickly, rushing down the stairs after. by the time he gets down there, you were already ringing the doorbell. he cracked the door just enough to step outside, slamming it behind him before you could peek in.

you can tell somethings off the moment you see him. he’s shirtless. not unusual. but his eyes are darker than usual. jaw tight. you smile anyway. you always smile around him, even when your throat burns. “hi,” you say, soft. “what’s this?” he asks, staring at the box in your hands like it’s cursed. “i made cupcakes. strawberry.”

he doesn’t take the box from you. not right away. just stares at it, then at you. you don’t know what he’s thinking. you never really do. “you didn’t have to do that,” he mutters, like it’s a bad thing. “i know, i just wanted to.” you mumble, waiting for a reply. you hope, you pray he lets you in—not just into the house, but into him.

but instead, “you should go.” he says. it stings. worse than it should. worse than you’ll ever admit. you bite the inside of your cheek to keep your face from falling. you hand him the box anyway, because it’s all you can do. “okay.” and you smile. again. because if you don’t, you’ll cry.

he takes the cupcakes with a strange kind of hesitation. like they’re heavier than they look. like they cost him something. you don’t know why. you don’t ask. you just walk back to your car and leave. because that’s what you do. you show up. you care too much. and you leave when he tells you to.

he shuts the door after you leave, turning and leaning back against it. he just stands there. for a long time after that. the house is too quiet now. he holds the cupcake box like it’s a wound. the girl upstairs peers down at him from the stairs, mumbling something he didnt even try to hear. he didnt care. he’s thinking of you.

your perfume lingers. sugar and something warm. like him, if he were ever soft enough to be worth anything. he opens the box. six cupcakes, perfect pink. you piped little hearts on them, hand-done. he knows it. you don’t half-ass anything when it comes to him. you never did.

he should’ve told you to come in, should’ve kissed you, let you sit on the couch with your legs curled up and talk about dumb shit like you always do. he should’ve eaten every single one of these stupid fucking cupcakes while you watched.

but he didn’t. and he probably never would. because that’s what he felt he deserved. you were too sweet for him. too pretty for his ugly world.

a/n: i like this what ab yall

softdom!johnny w gf!reader

it started quiet— like it always did with him. he was in your room, looking extremely out of place against the pink expanse of your room. the sheets tangled around your legs from where you’d been half-watching a movie, half-tracing idle lines along his arm.

johnny was leaning against the headboard, one arm slung around your shoulders, thumb moving gently over your skin. he smelled like cigarette smoke and soap and something warm that always made your chest ache a little.

you looked up at him, eyes soft, and he tilted his head at you. “what?” he asked, already smiling. “nothin’,” you said, voice low. “just lookin’.”

he dipped his head, kissed your temple. “keep lookin’. cute when you stare at me like that.” your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away. instead, you shifted closer, your hand sliding up under his shirt, resting flat on his stomach. his breath hitched. just a little.

you smiled. “you’re tryin’ to start something, huh?” he murmured, turning his face toward yours, noses brushing. his voice dropped— soft, amused, a little breathless already. “you want me?” you nodded. “yeah?” he whispered, pushing your hair back from your face. “lay down for me then.”

you didn’t hesitate. the moment your back hit the mattress, he was hovering over you, kissing you slow. the kind of kiss that made your stomach twist up in knots. his hand slid down, lifting his your shirt gently, pushing it up and over your head.

you weren’t in a rush, and neither was he. every touch felt like something careful. something sacred. when he pulled back to look at you, his voice was barely above a whisper. “you look so pretty like this.”

he kissed down your chest, your ribs, your stomach— soft, reverent. until he was back over you again, and his hips settled between yours. his cock was already hard, pressed against you, and your body ached with how badly you wanted him.

“please, johnny,” you whispered, arching into him. he kissed the corner of your mouth, then subtly pushed his jeans down just enough to release his cock. he looked you in the eyes as he pushed inside, slow, deep, careful.

you gasped, hands grabbing at his shoulders, and he moaned into your neck, voice rough and low. “christ, you feel so good, doll.” he stayed deep for a second, barely moving, like he just wanted to feel you wrapped around him.

your walls fluttered and he let out a groan, then started to move. long, slow thrusts that dragged the air out of your lungs. “you’re so good,” he whispered, holding your face, kissing your cheek. “my perfect angel.”

you whimpered, already breathless, hips rising to meet his. “look at you,” he said, voice thick. “so pretty.” the room was filled with soft gasps, skin on skin, the creak of the mattress and johnny’s voice— always praising, always sweet.

“my beautiful girl,” he groaned, thrusts getting deeper, his body trembling against yours. “you gonna cum? please cum for me, baby.” he said, pleading like he needed it. you nodded desperately, already close, and the way he kissed you, so tender, so full of love, was what pushed you over the edge.

you came with a cry, clinging to him, and johnny followed seconds after, burying his face into your neck, moaning your name like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. when it was over, he didn’t pull away.

he stayed pressed close, still inside you, kissing you again and again, like he couldn’t stop. “i love you,” he whispered, so soft you almost missed it. “more then anything.” you smiled against his mouth. “i love you too, jay.”

a/n : hes more praising n soft dom cs i could never see him bein all rough with a girl 😭 also yes reader calls him jay its cute i like it

summary — theodore is slowly losing himself after breaking up with reader, and only she can help solve the problem.

based on this ask

warnings — alcoholism, underage partying, toxic relationships, throwing up, suggestiveness, angst, fluff if u squint

a/n— i kinda hate this but let me know if u guys enjoyed n want more

you had noticed. noticed theodores steady decline since you two broke up. you wouldn’t ever admit it, but you always would keep an eye on the boy. you truly cared about him. you probably always would. you knew things about him that nobody else ever would. about his relationship with his father, about how he deals with his mothers death, all of which he buried deep down.

you broke up for a number of reasons. you two argued a lot, often too alike and mutually headstrong for your own good. you could admit to your faults. you often fought fire with fire, throwing harsh words his way at the drop of a dime. you would gey made easily, jealous, upset. theodore thought you were too good for him, and you thought you weren’t enough for him. there was a lack of communication, too. mostly from theodore. he never learned how to do all that relationship stuff, anyways.

you started putting together the pieces when you saw his tired eye bags one day in class, the type he got when he was hungover. but then they started showing daily, and more prominently. and sometimes, when you would walk past him in the hallway, you could smell the alcohol on him. smell the bad decisions.

but tonight, it confirmed all your suspicions. you had gotten to the party, not expecting to see theodore there. he knew he couldn’t talk to you, at all. and god, did that kill him. he had to take what he could get, eyeing you from across the room the whole night instead. you couldn’t stop yourself from keeping an eye on him, considering his behavior lately.

you tried to brush it off as just him partying like everyone else, but you did notice how he was going overboard with the alcohol. everytime you looked at him, which was often— he was taking another shot of fireball. throwing back glass after glass of the dark liquid. it wasnt until you noticed his behavior, that you began to worry.

you could read him well, maybe almost too well for your own good. you knew exactly how he acted when he was drunk, and when he was wasted beyond return. right now, he was absolutely plastered. he was being more crude, more aggressive. holding on to the bottle like it was his dignity.

he also hadn’t gotten off that couch once since you arrived, so clearly he was here for one thing only. alcohol.

you tried to shove it off your mind, push the pull of him away from you, and ignore it. but you couldn’t. not when he had the same pretty look in his eyes as he did when he was looking at you.

you wouldn’t ignore it.

you pulled yourself up out of the couch far away from his, walking over. you came in front of him, in his eyeview, and it was like he died and came back to life. he almost looked at you as if you were life itself. you spoke. “theo— you’re drunk.” he rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly.

“yeah? since when do you give a fuck, hm?” he smirked. you knew he wouldn’t be talking like that if he wasn’t drunk. in fact, he probably wouldn’t be talking at all. he hadnt been social with anyone since the breakup. “stop acting like that. c’mon— get up.” he seemed hesitant, staying seated for a moment before you spoke again. “please.” you muttered under your breath. you didnt like begging. he knew that.

he rolled his hazy eyes, getting up clumsily. you grabbed his shoulder to steady him, feeling him tense up under you. you saw him regain his balance, letting your hand drop. “c’mon.” you mumbled, letting him follow from behind you. you two desperately tried to squeeze between the party space, theodore grounding himself with his hands on your waist; a choice of sheer necessity. or at least that’s what he’d tell himself.

you eventually made it to the door of the room, leading him outside. his hands embarrassingly dropped from your sides, as he looked down. he followed you, biting his nails on the way. you still made him nervous, even if he didn’t wanna admit it.

he really looked at you, now. analyzed you. you looked the same, nothing much had changed. just as pretty as when he left you. unaffected. like it didnt even bother you. he envied that. he wanted to be like that. but instead, he was slowly crumbling in on himself. he truly was lost without you. he had given up the one thing that kept him sane.

you eventually came to a door, and he recognized it as his. “you have your keys?” you asked. theodore answered with a shrug, watching you roll your eyes as you checked his pockets for him. god, he could barely even stand. you suddenly found his keys, sitting in his back pocket. you opened his door for him, letting him follow. this room was so familiar to you. you and theodore had spent countless nights here, countless days. you shuddered the feeling away, turning to theo and getting him to sit down on his bed.

he had a record playing, it was an old song. you recognized it. ‘mio amore’ by the flamingos. he always liked that song. you searched around his room for some water, finding a plastic bottle and handing it to him. theodore looked fucked. his hair was messed up, skin pale, eyebags heavy. you felt almost, bad for him. you heard him speak. “why are you even here?” you bit down nervously on your bottom lip, shrugging.

“i knew you probably wouldn’t make it home by yourself.” he laughed, genuinely. that was the first time he did in a while. “and that bothered you?” he asked. you smiled, nodding. this felt so good to him. like he’d been deprived of food for months, and just got a taste of it. it felt like how you two used to be, when things were good. they had known eachother since first year. they had lost their virginity to eachother. he couldn’t forget her. he wouldn’t. he was too attached.

“y/n?” he spoke, you looking up at him. waiting for him to continue. “i feel really fuckin’ nauseous.” you quickly shot up, grabbing his wrist and practically dragging him to the bathroom. the last thing you were gonna do in this boys room, was be thrown up on.

you watched him kneel over the toilet, deciding to sit on the tub next to him. he sat there for a minute, before he eventually threw up. you instinctively rubbed his back, but quickly retracted your hand once you realized what you were doing. you couldn’t do that anymore. you weren’t together. you handed him a water bottle, watching him chug it down.

he leaned his back against the wall, his breathing returning back to normal. his head dropped to his hands, chest rising and falling. “you okay?” you asked, left with no answer. he felt close to you, sitting right at your feet. maybe a bit too close. you were lost looking at his hair, before he spoke. “can you sit with me?” you nodded, moving to sit across from him on the bathroom floor. the cold tile against your bare legs made you shiver.

he finally looked up, and something was off. he looked, upset. almost like he was close to breaking. close to giving up. “theo, what’s wrong?” you asked. and it was like he shattered. he started to break down, crying into your arms. your brows furrowed, hand stroking his back as his forehead rested on your shoulder. “i just— i really fucked up. bad.” you frowned, looking down at the boy who was once your everything.

“everything’s shit since we broke up, amore. i’ve become a shitty person.” he spoke. you sighed, rubbing his palms. you knew him inside out. how to calm him down, how to make him mad, how to keep him sane. “you’re arent a bad person theo. truly, you aren’t.” he shook his head, hands shakily grasping yours. grounding himself.

“i miss you so bad, cara mia. i regret it every day. im sorry— im so sorry.” he spoke, crying into your chest. “it’s okay, theo. please dont cry.” you spoke, lifting his head from your chest, holding his face with your palms. you looked at his face, analyzing it. he looked hurt. deeply hurt.

you knew you’d probably regret it, but you kissed his forehead. right on his temple. “im sorry too. okay? c’mon theo, let’s get you to bed.” you murmured, him nodding. he took your hands off his face, holding them in his own. he pressed gentle kisses along the ridges, looking at your eyes just like how he used to. when you meant everything that ever mattered to him.

and maybe that was because you still did. you stood up, him following suit. stumbling just a little. you guided him to his bed, laying him down. he groaned, sighing. you watched as he sat up, pulling the black polo off his body. you spoke, “you feel better?” he subtly shook his head, not even bothering to answer.

he laid back down, his hair looking messy, eyes tired, a fucking mess. you dimmed the light by his side, his eyes eye level with your lower half. you were about to turn to leave, before you felt his hand reach out. pulling you by your hip. “can you stay?” he slurred out, you replying with a sigh. “theo— we cant.” he quickly shook his head, speaking. “no— no—- god, not sex, y/n. just stay with me. please.”

you rolled your eyes, sighing again. “i dont have clothes.” he shuffled, pulling a basket out from under his bed. he set it on the bed, pushing it to you. it was filled with your stuff. your pajamas, makeup, shit you had left here. if you didn’t understand theo, you’d probably think it was creepy. but you knew he kept it for reasons. reasons of his own.

“fine. whatever.” you murmured, sliding the skirt and top off your body, putting on the pajamas. it was barely even nighttime wear; a pair of panties and a tank top. he zoned out on your body. he hadn’t seen it in so long. he liked you better bare. you climbed into the bed, laying next to him. he spoke, “can i still touch you?” you shrugged, biting your lower lip. “yeah— i guess. but we aren’t fucking.”

he quickly nodded. he threw a lazy arm over your stomach, hand splayed out across it. he kissed the spot underneath your ear, the warmest spot on your body. he knew that. you laid like that, willingly. with him. because part of you did love him still. no— all of you did. inside and out.

and you swore, before you felt him fall asleep, you heard him whisper that he loved you too.

tags— ( comment if u wanna b added, or taken off )

warnings — mentions of stripping from a young age, paying for sexual services, angst, fluff if u like squint ig, mentions of underage stripping (18) mentions of abuse, profanity, idk thats like it ok enjoy

plz plz keep in mind that i am not a stripper n this fic is likely not accurate

BONUS POINTS IF U NOTICE THE DETAIL IN THE ENDDD

reader is technically latina in my mind , but u can imagine her as different if u want idc. reader is shorter, n more petite for the storyline

enjoyyyy and lmk ur thoughts in the notess

this wasnt rafes first choice. he had just gotten off work, and all the bars had closed at 2am around 30 minutes ago. but he desperately needed a glass of whiskey. the only place still open that served alcohol, was the towns one and only strip club.

he thought it once over, weighing the pros and cons in his head, before ultimately deciding that there wasnt too much that could go wrong if he went. it was so late, it probably wouldn’t even be too busy. he would get his drink, and go home.

or so he thought. he was right about the busyness of the place, but the second he saw you sitting on the edge of the stage, legs dangling, leaning back on your hands, he knew he wasnt gonna leave right away. he was the only guy in there, thank god.

he managed to make it to the bar, ordering a double instead of his usual single. he knew he had to talk to you, but he also knew he needed the extra confidence. you weren’t facing the bar, allowing him to really analyze your face. you looked, sad. now that he really looked at you.

it was odd. you didnt even look temporarily sad, it looked permanent. like the emotion had been etched into you since birth. he couldn’t stop looking. his eyes finally left you when the barkeep set his bill down infront of him. he called out after, “who do i talk to for a private session?”

the bartender sighed, rolling her eyes. “there’s only like two dancers left here, ‘n they probably aint up for a session right now.” rafe shook his head, speaking up again. “i’ll pay good. as much as she’ll take.” the woman glanced up, behind rafe. “go talk to james, up there. he’ll set you up.” rafe nodded, leaving a $20 on the bartop and heading over to the man.

he was an older guy, he looked rough. tired. he was sitting in a chair, counting money. the mans eyes looked up at him, looking him over. he spoke. “what you need, kid?” rafe cleared his throat, a bit nervous. “was looking for a private session. with the girl over there.” the man chuckled, the gravely noise filling the air. “bambi. her names bambi.”

rafe nodded, taking his wallet out. “yeah— i want her.” the man raised his brows at the leather in rafes hand, speaking. “you want a vip session, or a private?” rafe furrowed his brows, confused. “whats the difference?” the man smiled again, clearly amused.

“vip, you can touch her, and she can take off her clothes. but she charges however much she wants. how long you want her?” rafe ran the mans words through his mind, thinking. he wanted to talk to her for a while. he wanted to see her fully, no matter the price. “the vip. i want her for an hour.”

the man nodded, writing something down on a piece of paper. “she’ll probably charge you around $850 for that. that okay?” rafe nodded, wincing a bit at the price. the man spoke up again, “also, if she does end up taking her clothes off, tip her well. really well.” the man smiled eerily creepy, insinuating something that made rafe feel off.

the manager yelled something in spanish at the girl, her understanding. she headed to the door behind her. the manager yelled something nodded rafe off to follow her. he trailed behind her, noticing her skimpy yet comfortable clothes. she had on a tiny bra, barely covering her nipples. and a thin as floss thong underneath the black sweats that hanged low on her hips.

she had really long hair. down past her ass. it was straight too.

he wanted to know if that was its natural state or not.

he wanted to know her. in and out. her pet peeves, her hobbies, her fears.

she led him to a room, lit up by red lights. it contained a large velvet black couch, a coffee table, and a pole. the girl sat down on the couch, her knees tucked to her chest. rafe paused infront of her, unsure. he had never been anywhere like this. she looked up at him, her sad looking eyes, before she spoke. “are you gonna sit?” he nodded quickly, sitting to the side of her.

she was looking at him, and he returned her gaze. she was beautiful, genuinely. she wasn’t even wearing any makeup either, completely bare. he liked looking at her. a lot. she spoke, again. “are you okay?” he laughed, not on purpose. just on instinct. “yeah? why do you ask?”

she let her chin rest on her knee, still keeping his gaze. “because you aren’t telling me what you want me to do.” he studied her expression, accidentally stopping at her lips for a moment. “i just want you to do whatever you wanna do.” she sat up at this, checking his face to make sure he was serious.

he could tell she didnt know how to respond, so he spoke again. he was starting to get more comfortable. “you wanna tell me about you?” she nodded, before answering. “what do you wanna know?” he shrugged. he honestly just wanted to hear her talk. “how’d you get into stripping?”

she let her eyes drop from his, fidging with the drawstring of her sweats instead. “i was really young. like, younger then i should have been. i needed money— and i just went to the first club i could find. then i moved states, started working here.” he nodded, listening to her talk. he liked her voice.

“why’d you move?” she glanced around the room, before nervously speaking. “this ex boyfriend. wouldn’t leave me alone, so i left.” he nodded, looking straight ahead now too. he felt guilty for asking, but he didnt know why. he knew she seemed uncomfortable about it though. he wouldn’t mention it again.

“you like what you do?” he asked. she nodded. “mhm. its fun, ‘n the moneys good.” he registered her words, holding on to them. “why’d you get into it so young?” she tensed up, again. he felt bad. “needed to get out of my dads house. needed to eat.” rafe nodded. the more he listened to her, the more he analyzed her features, he realized just how truly sad she seemed.

“isnt it dangerous? bein’ so young and stripping. has anything ever happened?” she chewed on her bottom lip, looking down. “more at the first club then here.” he nodded, urging her to continue. “what happened at the first club?” she sighed, rolling her eyes. she seemed, off.

“the manager— he wasn’t good. he was pimping on the side ‘n would use girls from the club. he wouldn’t give us a choice about it either; if you didn’t wanna walk the blade, he would— take more out of your pay, beat on the girls ‘n stuff like that.” she spoke. rafe felt nauseous. it was so sick. this girl was no older then 21. she started working underaged at the club, to a pimp who beat her.

rafe spoke. “you were a hooker?” she looked at him, disappointedly. “no. i told him i wouldn’t do it.” rafe felt bad for asking that. she seemed offended. “so he beat you?” rafe spoke, her answer being a light nod. “yeah. he set me up too.” he looked at her, his brows furrowed concerningly.

“set you up like how?” he asked, softly. she tucked her knees back to her chest, before speaking. “had these guys jump ‘n rape me when i was leaving work. why are you asking me this?” her expression was one that rafe couldn’t make it out. it seemed like she was almost nonchalant about the topic.

“i just— sorry. im sorry. you dont have to talk to me about it.” rafe spoke. that killed him. she was a small girl too, defenseless really. and she probably thought that treatment was normal. like she deserved it. she studied his expression for a moment, before looking away. a silence fell in the room. for a while, too. until finally, she spoke again. “why haven’t you told me to take my clothes off yet?” she asked, looking back to him. he shrugged. that idea hadn’t even came to mind yet.

“i ‘dunno. you can if you want.” she narrowed her eyes, her brows furrowed. “you paid $750 to talk to me for an hour?” rafe laughed, before replying. “i guess, if you put it that way.” she smiled, for the first time they had been in that room. “so, you didn’t come in here to fuck?” she asked. he shook his head immediately, answering. “no. god no. i just wanted to talk to you.”

she tilted her head, checking his gaze for seriousness. “why?” he shrugged yet again, “you interested me. you’re really pretty too.” she smiled, again. he liked that it was him that made her smile. “thank you.” she spoke, rafe nodding. “your hours almost up.” she reminded him, rafe sighing. “can i pay for another one?” she looked at him, like he was asking the dumbest question in the world.

“you’re not paying me just to talk. i wont let you. and the clubs gonna close soon.” she spoke. rafe chewed his lip, he wanted to keep talking. he had an idea, but he wasn’t sure if she would even be okay with it. he figured he could try, though. “can we go to your place?” he asked carefully, tiptoeing over the question. she raised her brows, replying. “its against the policy to go home with customers.” she said.

rafe was about to give up, shoving the idea off his mind before he heard her speak again. “just— here,” she trailed off, grabbing a pen from the pocket of her sweats. she took his hand, writing an address on the top of it. “you can come. but we aren’t fucking. or doing anything like that.” rafe was fucking ecstatic.* he didnt even wanna fuck her, he would take what he could get.

he tried to reply as nonchalantly as he could, brushing off the way his fingers felt against hers. how small her hand was compared to his. “yeah. thats perfect— thats fine. thank you.” she nodded, getting up from the couch before turning and looking at him, speaking. “leave 10 minutes after me. dont make it obvious.” he nodded, looking up at the idea of the most beautiful girl he had ever dreamt of.

she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss below his eye. it felt like he was in fucking highschool, painfully hard in his pants from a brush of a hand and a kiss on the cheek. she left the room after that, leaving rafe. he figured she was gonna be leaving then, so he waited his 10 minutes before getting to his truck and leaving too.

he pulled into a small house, deep in the ghetto. it was decorated nicely though, string lights and wind chimes adorning the front porch. he got out of the truck, knocking on the door shortly after. she answered, looking showered with her hair wet. she was wearing a big graphic t-shirt, lettering adorned on the back of it. didn’t seem like she was wearing pants.

“hey,” he spoke, smiling down at her. he realized truly how small she was, tiny really. it was clear now why she was called ‘bambi’. “hi. she spoke, inviting him in. he walked in, analyzing the place. it was clean, very clean. cozy, too. warm lighting filling the room. she walked through the room, him figuring he should follow. he had to be at least a foot taller then her.

he followed, her walking into a room. seemed like it was hers. it was filled with candles, vanilla. he liked it. she sat on her bed, leaving him standing. he didn’t wanna sit on her bed if she didnt want him too. but she spoke, clearing the air. “you can sit.” he nodded, moving to the other side of her bed. he took his shoes off, before she spoke. “you can take your pants off too.” he nodded, slipping his jeans off and sitting to the side of her.

“can i ask you something?” she spoke, him answering with a nod. “why haven’t you asked me for sex yet? and why are you being so nice?” he leaned back, his arms stretched behind his head. her sitting up still, next to him. he spoke “i dont expect you to do things you dont want to do. i just— think you’re a nice girl. i wanted to get to know you.”

she stayed silent for a moment, analyzing his face, before she spoke, “whats your name? he smiled, looking at her. “rafe.” she nodded, speaking back. “i like you, rafe. you’re sweet.” he laughed, replying. “thanks. ‘preciate it.” she laid down, her head unexpectedly going to his chest. he let her, lifting his arm for her to lay on. she pulled the blanket over the two of them, putting on a movie soon after.

this felt— intimate. domestic. he liked it. he wanted to do this often, specifically with her. only her. he carefully let his hand go to her hip, testing the waters. she didnt tense, didnt flinch. in fact, she almost seemed to lean in to his touch. he really, really liked that.

he watched the movie with her, a silence filling the air. except it wasnt uncomfortable. it was more then comfortable, it felt good. he soon felt her go limp against him, presumably falling asleep.

he wouldn’t move a fucking inch. he liked this so, so much. maybe too much. he felt already attached to her. which might have been bad, but he couldn’t bring myself to care. he would savor this moment, and hold on to it as long as he could. he was relaxed by her presence, put at peace.

he soon felt exhaustion fill him, succumbing to rest.

he woke up for a moment, presumably in the middle of the night, to her laying more on top of him now. her head resting to the side of his, her legs tangled with his. he rubbed her back absentmindedly, eyes catching on to her hair. it was dry now. long, pretty, loose curls falling from her head.

now he knew, her natural hair was wavy.

tags — comment if u wanna b added, or taken off.

barry finally getting to sleep after being out selling all night and day. precious finally getting priscilla down for her nap.

precious going into their room n finding barry knocked out and snoring. she huffs out and stands there staring for a few minutes.

she finally decides to sit, that is, directly on top of his lap. she shakes barry’s chest until he grunts.

“get the fuck off me, precious.”

he says. but she doesn’t, because why would she? she lays down over him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“can you play with me, bear? please.”

she breathes out, lips brushing his chin. he doesn’t reply. in hopes she’ll give up and leave him to sleep. she sits up at that. sighs again. then— shuffles down to lift up his shirt and bites down on the pudge on his lower tummy.

he grunts at that. shoving her head away from his tummy as he finally opens his eyes. he sits up quick. grabs her jaw hard and looks at her for a long moment.

he moves, then. grabs her from under her arms and shoves her down onto her back. she’s already almost naked. just clad in a pair of cotton panties. she whines at first, but he shuts her up with a bite down on her nipple. they’re still puffy from breastfeeding.

“how’s that feel, precious? doesn’t fuckin’ feel good, does it.”

he spits out. pulls down her panties quickly before shoving two fingers in. she tries to push at his wrist, already whining at him. he keeps biting at her nipples, her skin, her face, just to prove a point.

he pulls his fingers out of her. shoves them between her lips to lap at. he pulls down his boxers enough to push into her. he slumps ontop of her, holding her down with his weight. he thrusts in and out of her for a few strokes— before keeping still. as deep as he can get inside her.

“i’m not fuckin’ movin. since you wanted me to play with you so bad, keep quiet.”

he mumbles out. tucking himself into her neck and closing his eyes again. she tries to shove him off a few times. but she can’t. so, she accepts it, settles for grinding her clit against his pubic hair every other minute.

she keeps quiet just like he asked.

not doing tags bc idkkk i don’t feel like going to my notes app 🫤🫤 sorry