Disassociation Station @runredrabb1t - Tumblr Blog

C☆MERA READY?

♡warnings: p☆rnstar!rafayel x prude f!reader, one past daddy mention, alluding to some kind of sexual shame, tattooed raf, begging, mocking, a little degrading, mostly a lot of praise, fingering, not that bad it's kinda sweet if i'm honest

♡ sound bite: “I’ll help you out, yeah?” he whispered, his large hands rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thighs, getting so close to where you wanted him before dancing away again.

“When I’m filming with someone new and they get a little camera shy, sometimes it helps if I feed them lines. It keeps them from worrying about saying the right thing—loosens them up a little. Let’s try that, hm?”

♡ a/n: guess whoooo! i've been gone for a minute, like i said a lot of my posts have been taken down so i might try to repost, but most of my stuff is on my ao3. my user is slapmeshigaraki on there too. anyway lot of shit going on irl but i dusted this one off from the drafts for the fuck of it. enjoyyyy xx

Bitchhhh— I know this ain’t who I think it is.

That was the message that interrupted your six-part bodycam TikTok viewing session. It was a text from your best friend accompanied by a sketchy link to Xvideos. The title read in bold letters: sexy virgin gets stretched open and fucked ROUGH. You were almost scared to open it, fairly certain that somehow this link would lead to a hacker accessing your bank account. It might not have had much money in it—but it was your bank account nonetheless.

Against your better judgment, you clicked it. As you pressed play, your living room was immediately filled with a series of lewd moans and the sound of sweaty skin smacking together. It went on for a few seconds. It didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary, pretty average backshots, until you heard a voice. Fuck—you’re milking me so good, sweetheart. You must want my cum, huh? Is that what you need, baby? You shook your head in disbelief. Surely it wasn’t who you thought it was.

The camera panned down to show a large hand slamming down against the girl’s ass. The skin of the man’s fingers was littered with tattoo ink—shaded into the shape of bones. It was that same damn skeleton tattoo. If that wasn’t confirmation enough, two seconds later the alleged “sexy virgin” whined out, Yes, please. Please cum inside of me, Rafayel. Ain’t no fucking way.

A part of you wanted to question how your friend even found this to begin with, but a bigger concern was how the fuck didn’t you know that your long-term friend with benefits was secretly a porn star. Actually, it clearly wasn’t much of a secret; the shit had millions of views. When you clicked on the account that posted the video, you quickly saw an entire portfolio of work. The tags on some of them were sick, really—master and slave, slapping, sadism, even fucking watersports. Just as you were about to let your curiosity consume you to open another video, you heard the sound of a key jingling in your front door. You didn’t even have time to turn your phone off; you just threw it to the other side of the couch.

“Ohhh, you’re gonna wanna fuck me so bad when you see what I’ve got behind my back.” The familiar voice rang out across the room, the same tattooed fingers revealing a brown paper bag with grease spots staining the bottom as Rafayel stepped through the door.

“Stopped by your favorite food truck. No need to pay me back or anything— I think I’d rather take my reimbursement in the form of head.” He laughed at his own words, as if it were a joke. You tried to get the image out of your head, but it seemed nearly impossible as he walked closer to your seat on the couch, placing the bag on the coffee table between you.

“You good? You look like you’re gonna be sick.” He wasn’t wrong. He could see the little beads of sweat forming on your neck, your eyes wide as if you’d seen a ghost. You cleared your throat, desperately trying to redirect your thoughts.

“Didn’t I tell you that key was for emergencies, Rafayel?” He hummed in agreement.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out his phone, and unlocked it. “When someone texts you, ‘I need to see you so bad. I’m so pent up I’m dying, literally.’ It kinda seems like an urgent situation.” You turned your head, opting to grab the food instead of making eye contact with him. He sucked his teeth at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, damn, I’m sorry. Did I scare you? Is that what’s got you so tense? In my defense, I did say I was on the way. Next time, though, I’ll knock, yeah?” You nodded absentmindedly. Sensing the unusual tension in the room, he stepped around the coffee table, sitting down on the couch beside you. He placed a tattooed hand on your bare thigh.

“Seriously, tell me what’s up. It obviously isn’t just about the key.” His other hand reached across you, grabbing the sides of your face to turn your gaze onto his completely.

“Look—I get that lately we’ve only seen each other to hookup. But don’t forget about the friends part of friends with benefits, yeah? If you wanna talk, I’ve got time. You can tell me anything,” he said, voice completely softened now. Just as you were about to reply, your lips inching to form a sentence, you heard it. Those same lewd sounds from earlier, only this time they were slightly muffled. There was no fucking way.

Rafayel’s face contorted, and he shuffled around in his seat to see where the noise was coming from. He’d started to reach for his phone, but then he saw an illuminated screen tightly tucked between the cushions. You reached for it at the same time, desperately trying to dig for your phone to silence those fucking sounds, but it was no use. Before you could even try to wrestle it out of his hands, he saw it. There he was on your phone screen, the tip of his cock inching towards the back of some girl’s throat. All you could do was cover your face in horror.

“No fucking way!” He was dying laughing, the filthy sound of someone gagging on his cock filling the space.

“You’re watching porn of me? How’d you even find this? I thought you said you didn’t like that kinda stuff?” he asked between gasps of laughter.

“I don’t.” You reached back for your phone, snatching it away this time as he was too busy cackling at you to fight back. You clicked the power button this time, the filthy sounds now dissipating.

“Clearly you do, or at least you do if I’m in it.” He was so fucking smug about it, too, amused at your humiliation as he reached out for the bag of food, fishing out a taco for himself.

“I wasn’t fucking watching it. Someone sent it to me.”

“That’s actually weirder. What the fuck were they even doing to find that? It’s not like it’s Twitter porn, you’ve gotta dig to find that kinda shit,” he retorted before taking a bite.

“I don’t feel like you’re in any position to talk about what’s weird when you’re recording yourself fucking whoever. Some of those videos are disgusting.” He shrugged it off.

“No shame in my game. Fucking is an art, and I am an artist. Forgive me for sharing my talent with the world.” He could barely get the line out before laughing again, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

“Well, how come you never told me you were into that kinda stuff? Huh, what happened to ‘friends can tell each other anything’ or whatever the fuck?” you asked, halfway offended.

“Uhhh, because you act so vanilla,” he said with no hesitation. Well, now you were fully offended.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You reached out to smack his shoulder, which he barely felt through the layer of muscle.

“I didn’t say you were vanilla. I said you act vanilla. It’s not a bad thing. You like what you like, and I like what I like. Doesn’t bother me, but it’s the truth.” He said it like he was simply stating that the sky was blue, so fucking matter-of-factly.

“Why would you even say that, though? What about me is so vanilla?” He could tell you weren’t gonna let this go anytime soon, so he shoved the rest of the taco in his mouth, taking far too long to chew and swallow for your liking before he replied.

“Okay, first, you never make any noise.” Your eyebrows furrowed at the comment.

“That’s not true!”

“It most certainly is. It’s like sometimes I can hear you about to moan, but then you cover your mouth or bite your lip or something to stop it. Uhhh, let’s see, what else? Oh yeah, you never let me go down on you.”

“Letting you eat me out wouldn’t be freaky if that’s what you’re implying.” He noticed how you conveniently didn’t respond to the former accusation about being too quiet.

“Exactly my point! If you won’t even let me eat you out, which is like basic shit, then of course I wouldn’t try to do anything else. I damn sure wouldn’t ask you to film.” You fell silent at the annoyingly logical point, but then something even more troubling fell over you.

“Be honest...Am I not hot enough to fuck on camera?” Rafayel tried his best to stifle another fit of laughter, now aware that you were actually being serious.

“That’s not it at all. You are so—so fucking sexy. Of course, I think people would want to see you naked—hell, I want to see you naked. In fact, I wish you were naked right now instead of wasting time with this ridiculous conversation.” You rolled your eyes, now more irritated than anything else by his evasive answers. You weren’t sure why it bothered you that he never offered. Maybe it was the fact that he had hundreds of videos posted, and each one seemed to have a different girl—he had no problem asking every single one of them, so why not you? You were about to get up from the couch, suddenly needing some space from the man, but he reached out for your wrist, guiding you back down to your seat.

“Okay, okay, wait. Look at me for a second, yeah?” You did so, reluctantly.

“You are one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, really, and we have good sex. I mean it, really, I always have a good time with you,” he said, as if it were no big deal.

“Good? It’s just good to you?”

“I mean, yeah. I cum. You cum. What’s not to like?"

"The problem is, though—” He took a second, wondering whether brutal honesty would hurt or help in this situation. In the end, he decided to continue anyway. “I never asked you to film because you perform too much. It’s inauthentic.” For a second, you thought he was going to say something genuine or romantic, like that he thought you were too good to do something like that. Instead, though, it seemed like this was a worse insult than before. Before you could object, he spoke again.

“What I mean by that is— okay, I make a lot of money off of those videos, y’know. Like some of the most popular ones have been worth almost a grand.” Okay, so what you heard was that you wouldn’t make him enough money because you’re not that good at fucking.

“Let me finish—” he pleaded, anticipating an interruption. “You know what most of those videos have in common?”

“Every woman in them has clearly had a boob job.” He smiled at your remark.

“Not every, but sure. What I was going to say is that those videos are all super degrading. I’m saying mean shit and being rough. Begging on camera for someone to spank you or choke you or whatever the fuck—that’s not something someone can half-ass, and in a way, it only works if you’re willing to be real. You’re always so caught up in trying to perform, super concerned about what other people are gonna think.” You didn’t even allow his monologue any time to sit in the air.

“That is not true!”

“No? Okay, then tell me why you don’t moan when we fuck, huh?” There was a hint of a challenge in his eyes, a provocation to see if you would tell the truth.

“Maybe it’s because you’re just not that good at fucking. Did you ever consider that?” He hummed in acknowledgment.

“We both know that’s not it. You’re performing. You think that if you get too loud or if you let me go down on you, that I’ll see you differently. You’re scared of looking like a slut, even though it’s obvious that you are one.” You gasped at the allegation.

“Oh, and don’t say you’re not because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have slipped up that one night and called me daddy when we were drunk, or I wouldn’t have been able to hear you fucking yourself in bed every night through the walls when we were roommates. Actually, if you weren’t a slut, you wouldn’t be so hung up on the fact that I didn’t try to recruit you to make a porn video.” You were actually speechless now. His delivery implied that this wasn’t an impromptu speech.

“Better yet—” He reached down to grab one of your ankles, pulling you closer to him before wrapping your leg around his waist. You were basically in his lap now, and you could feel his length painfully hard beneath you. “Let me show you why you couldn’t get fucked on camera.” He wasted no time slipping his hand between your bodies, reaching beneath the hem of your t-shirt to find the waistband of your panties. You hadn’t bothered with pants due to the previously scheduled booty call, which was quickly taking a turn for the worse.

“Well, see. Look at that—you’re certainly wet like a slut.” He had no trouble finding your clit beneath the fabric, his middle finger rolling over the button unbearably slowly. You lied earlier; he actually was that good at fucking. He noticed the way your eyes had started to flutter closed with each little movement of his finger against you.

“Does that feel good, hm?” he whispered, leaning into you, your chests pressed against one another as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. You stayed quiet, focusing on calming your breathing and holding the moan that had been building up in the back of your throat from escaping. Rafayel had always been a bit theatrical in bed, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. He was never shy about moaning or telling you what he wanted. This was different, though; now, he was going to make you participate.

“Speak up, or I’ll stop.” His words seemed like a command, but the way he pressed a soft kiss onto your neck gave a different impression.

“You’re not serious,” you said, and not even a full second later, he slid his hand from underneath your panties, the absence of his finger’s warmth quickly showing that he was indeed serious.

“Rafayel—“

“Nu-uh, you said you could fuck on camera, right? Well, this is your audition, angel, and if I’m honest, you’re failing miserably.” He readjusted your hips on his lap, pushing you off of him in the process.

“I’m not asking you to act. If it doesn’t feel good, say that, but if it does, then you have to show me because right now, I’m not convinced. I'm not gonna touch someone who’s not enjoying it,” he said it so nonchalantly, like it was basic math before shrugging it off and turning to reach for the food again.

“It did.” He raised an eyebrow at your commentary, intrigued, but still not satisfied.

“It did—what? What is it and what did it do, exactly?” he questioned, a devious grin slowly growing on his face.

“You—your fingers did feel good.” He hummed in approval.

“Ahh, see? Now I’m following. So do you want me to keep touching you then?” You nodded, eyes growing wide at the offer.

“No, no no—you were just starting to do good for me, don’t get shy now,” he said, voice sickly sweet as he turned back toward you, his body leaning closer and closer to yours, forcing you to lie on your back, your legs wrapped around him once again.

“I’ll help you out, yeah?” he whispered, his large hands rubbing up and down the smooth skin of your thighs, getting so close to where you wanted him before dancing away again.

“When I’m filming with someone new, and they get a little camera shy, sometimes it helps if I feed them lines. It keeps them from worrying about saying the right thing—loosens them up a little. Let’s try that, hm?” You nodded, once again, at a loss for words as his hand, still wet from your juices, pressed flat against your pussy, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

“You’re so wet, baby. I can feel you getting your panties all messy. You want me to keep touching you like this?” His fingers danced between your slit at an agonizingly slow pace.

“Yes.” It was soft, a shameful confession whispered into his ear, but he’d heard you, and that was a victory he was happy to accept.

“Yeah? I can tell it feels good. You’re getting my hand all sloppy, pretty girl.” His lips hovered against the skin of your neck, his warm breath making your eyes flutter into the back of your head as he tried not to chuckle at how cute you looked when you were frustrated.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered. “No one else is here. It’s just me…tell me what you need, baby.” He could feel the way you tensed up at the request, pressure building in your chest as all of the dirty words you wanted to say got stuck in your throat.

“I’ll help you again, okay?” You could barely even focus on the lesson as his thumb slowly circled your clit, his lips pressing a kiss onto your skin between words.

“Repeat after me—say, please put your finger inside of me.” It was so straightforward, no flowery wording or beating around the bush. He’d told you to say exactly what you wanted, leaving no room for interpretation. You almost couldn’t focus on how humiliating the request was because the heat building between your thighs was becoming unbearable.

The feeling of Rafayel slowing his fingers down slightly served as a warning—he was not afraid to stop touching you again. You had no choice but to repeat the script, every word, verbatim. You could feel him smile against you in success.

“Aw, you did such a good job. Of course, I can do that for you, angel. Relax for me, yeah?” As he felt your heartbeat even out against his chest, he slowly slid the tip of his middle finger past your entrance.

You waited a beat, expecting to feel him reach deeper inside, but he didn’t move, leaving you clenching around the tip of his finger. He could feel you shifting around beneath him.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He was playing so fucking coy. You were so frustrated that a little whine left your mouth just before you could bite your bottom lip to silence yourself.

“Ooh, that was a pretty sound. I must’ve spoiled you too much, hm? Otherwise, I would’ve gotten to hear the cute little noises you make when you don’t get your way. Is that it? Have I been too nice to you?” Only more noises left your lips as you tried to push yourself further onto his finger.

“So fucking greedy,” he said, taunting you, as his free hand moved to pin your hips down against the couch cushions, forcing you to whine again, tears prickling the corners of your eyes.

“You gonna whine some more, or you wanna tell me what’s wrong? Can you use your big girl words for me?” He never moved to look you in your eyes, knowing that the eye contact would only make you crawl back into your shell again, but you knew that he was doing everything in his power not to use his hand to force your gaze onto his.

“Just…tell me what to say, Rafayel.” You were indeed whining some more, but at least you’d said something.

“Hmm, I want to hear you say please again. I liked it earlier.” You didn’t even bother to quip back, realizing that this was all about stroking his ego.

“Please, tell me what to say, Rafayel.” He knew you’d rolled your eyes, but he let it slide.

“I think I wanna hear you beg. Say please, play with my pussy. Ask me to make you cum, nicely.” At this point, you were so frustrated that you just agreed to whatever he asked, each word falling from your lips, much to his enjoyment.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re making me so proud, angel. You want a treat?” he said. He’d always praise you in bed, loving the way it made you tighten up around him, and this time was no exception.

“Yes, please.” As the words fell from your lips, he forced the remaining length of his finger inside of you, effortlessly brushing the tip of his finger against your G-spot. His thumb found your clit again, slowly teasing it as his finger slid in and out.

“My good girl, using her manners. I loved the way that sounded, so desperate. Doesn’t it feel so much better to get what you want when you had to work for it?” Just as you opened your mouth to deliver a slick remark, he slid a second finger inside, forcing a loud moan from your chest. You rushed to slap your hand across your mouth, as if you were trying to stuff the noise back inside, but it was too late.

For the first time, he’d moved his head, his face only inches away from yours, a look in his eyes that you’d never seen before, pupils darkening his irises, like a vampire that hadn’t fed in weeks. He’d released your hips from his grip, opting to grab your wrist instead, gently freeing your lips.

“It’s okay if it feels good, you know? No one can hear you but me, and I like hearing you. Don’t you trust me?” He allowed you to just nod this time, not trying to ruin the moment by forcing you to a script when he finally had you right where he wanted you—out of control.

“Don’t hold back anymore, okay? You're allowed to feel good. I want you to feel good. I won’t think differently of you. You’re still so smart and sweet and funny—those parts of you are still there when we’re like this. I like every part of you, so just be you with me.” You nodded in agreement, eyes watering again from the intimate moment, as you felt his hand loosen on your face just a little, before his fingers started playing with you again.

“You can close your eyes if you want. Just think about how it feels, okay, baby?” You did, which heightened every act of stimulation as he moved his lips back to that spot that made you shiver beneath him. He knew it wouldn’t take much more for you to cum, but he was tempted to edge you a bit, desperate to see you like this just a little longer. He was so eager to hear that noise again, he swore it was the prettiest sound he’d ever heard—the song of an angel. You could tell by the way he wasted no time curling his fingers again, pressing against that spot rhythmically in time with his thumb on your clit. You were trying to ignore that filthy sound that flooded your ears each time he pushed his fingers in your cunt. You physically couldn’t hold your moans back any longer if you tried, and Rafayel could not have been more in awe of you in that moment.

“You’re dripping down my fucking wrist, angel. Am I making you feel that good, hm?” All you could say was yes over and over again, each one more broken and pleading than the last.

“Yeah? You look so fucking pretty for me, sound so fucking good. I need you to cum for me—want to hear it so fucking bad.” All you could do was whine as he quickened his pace again while he felt you tighten up around him, the familiar sensation telling him that you were unbearably close.

“Fuck—I think I’m gonna—” The word kept getting stuck in your throat, the sound of him breathing so heavily in your ear was fogging up your brain.

“Aw, what is it, baby? You’re gonna what, hm? Tell me what’s gonna happen if I keep pressing against this spot right here?” he mocked. You were actually crying now, the stimulation close to making you cum harder than you ever had before.

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, angel? You think you can be good and do one last thing for me?” You were nodding so quickly, like an excited puppy, mouth open, desperately trying to catch your breath. His grip on your cheeks tightened once again.

“Look at me, please.” You hesitated, just for a second, but it didn’t last long, the need to cum outweighing any shame at this point.

“No script—you wanna cum? Beg me.” So, you begged, a series of pleas and moans leaving your lips. He tried his best not to change his expression, scared that any reaction might make you self-conscious. All he did was press light kisses against your cheeks. He could taste the salt from your tears as you whined against him.

“It’s okay, baby. You can cum for me. You earned it, pretty girl, cum for me, please. All over my hand—that’s it. Yeah? Oh my god—fuck, yes. Good job, angel, sound so fucking sexy like this.” Your thighs were clamping down around his wrist, forcing him still as you shook and writhed against him. He closed his eyes while he listened to you moan and beg, for what, you weren't exactly sure, but he was addicted to the sound.

“Damn you really were pent up, huh? I’m so proud of you, baby. Cumming so good on my fingers, making all those pretty noises for me. Just like thattt—fuck, keep cumming. Let it all out for me.” Ever so slightly, he kept rubbing his thumb on your clit. It was as if he were in some sort of trance, studying the way your breath would catch in your throat and how you whined like such a little crybaby. It was so overstimulating that your moans had turned into screams before you begged him to stop.

“Sorry, I just—got carried away, I guess. You were just so…” he hesitated.

“Loud?” you asked, still out of breath and doing your best not to cover your face, embarrassment heating your cheeks as the nasty sounds you had made rang in your ears.

“No, no—so beautiful. It was like getting to look at a masterpiece. That was art.”

“Yeah? Good enough to record?”

“Mmmh, so good that I don't think I'd wanna share it with the world. Might have to record something just for me."

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