cam girl (part twelve) (end)
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
rating explicit 18+
content warning alcohol use
summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.
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Rafe realizes his hands are shaking as he rereads your text.
His eyes keep going over your words, standing up off his bed and pacing around his room just because the adrenaline won’t let him stay seated.
Why the fuck are you doing this to him?
i’m done. this is over. i’m not even a fucking person to you am i
Hot anger bubbles inside his chest. He immediately texts you back: what the fuck do you mean
Minutes pass. You don’t answer.
Rafe: ?????
Again. No answer.
Rafe: dont ignore me
He can’t take it anymore. He taps on the Call button. It rings and rings and rings. He texts you again.
Rafe: answer me
Finally, you respond: i dont need to listen to you. leave me alone
This has to be a cruel joke. Yet again, you’re cold to him out of fucking nowhere, after he thought you had a good time together.
Rafe recalls this morning, to the worried look on your face when you saw his black eye, making him think that maybe you see something of value past the wall he built around him.
He risked his pride by telling you that he always thinks about you, and now you’re done with him?
He texts you again: why are u acting like this
Thank fuck you respond.
You: i guess the slut got bored of you first
His body goes cold. He knows you’re referring to what one of his friends said. You heard that?
If that’s why you’re so pissed off, he needs to talk to you about it in person. He grabs his car keys and rushes out of the house.
Rafe is pounding on your door for so long that his hand is starting to hurt almost as much as it did when he threw those punches last night.
He feels himself teetering on the edge, getting close to the manic state he knows and hates.
He pulls his phone out to text you: open the door
You: ??? i’m not home
At this point, he sees red. He could break his damn phone if he didn’t need it right now. He calls you again, his jaw clenched so tight that it hurts.
His stomach tightens when the dial tone stops after two rings.
“Am I gonna have to block your number?” you say when you answer. The sound of a crowd and loud music buzzes in the background. He clues in that you’re at a party.
“Where are you?” he asks, head hanging, staring at the hallway floor.
“That’s none of your business.” He can hear a slur in your words.
“Are you drunk?”
“I can drink if I want to. I know you love to think you own me, but you don’t.”
Rafe swallows hard, shaking his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He heard your voice shake. Fuck. You’re crying and it’s his fault.
“Where are you?” Rafe repeats. “Let’s - we need to…” He’s stammering, anxious and unbalanced. “We need to talk… I swear, I’ll fucking wait here until you come home if you don’t tell me where you are.”
Your back is against a wall, the phone pressed to your ear. The room is loud and humid from all the bodies crammed together into one house.
You hate that you’re crying over him and you hate that he can hear it. As if his ego needs the boost.
“Why?” you finally ask, voice strained, hoping he’ll tell you what you want to hear. That there’s a part of him that cares about you.
Rafe is silent for a moment.
“Which one is it?” His chest is tight. He can’t say it now. Not over the phone.
“Neither,” you reply, then hang up. You know he’s just horny and possessive and mad. And definitely bluffing.
You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you take another shot. Time melts away from you as you get lost in the music with your friend, determined to get Rafe and his drama off of your mind.
It’s half past one in the morning when you order a cab. The alcohol has almost worn off at this point. Someone spilled a drink on you and you just want to take a shower and sleep. You have to promise yourself that you won’t give into the impulse to wear Rafe’s shirt to bed.
You exit the elevator and your heart stops when you see Rafe sitting on the floor, his back against your door, his knee raised, his head slumped.
He meant it. He waited. For over three fucking hours.
When you get close enough for him to hear your footsteps, Rafe clambers up to stand, towering over you. His eyes sweep over your face, the blue in them even more prominent in contrast to the dark bruise over his right eye.
Even though your heart, the traitor, is thumping with desire, the ache of what he did to you is louder. It was barbaric, what he said about you. What he let his friend say about you.
“Why are you still here?” you say as evenly as you can.
“You can’t…” Rafe shakes his head, frustrated. He immediately notices you’re not wearing the necklace he gave you and his chest aches. “You can’t end this.”
“Watch me,” you say with a scoff, nudging past him. You feel him behind you, hear his shallow breaths. You unlock your door and pull out your keys.
He won’t move. You turn to look at him again, feeling your lips thin in aggravation.
“Rafe,” you state. “Please. I just want to shower and sleep. Go home.”
“No,” he says stubbornly.
“Why can’t you just go find another girl to fuck around with?” you say, raising your tone.
He almost feels nauseous hearing you say that.
“Are you worried you won’t find one who does everything like I do?” you ask. “I just can’t say no, right? That’s what you told your friends.”
Rafe looks down in shame, nostrils flaring. His lips screw up in anger. He has no words to offer.
“Go home,” you repeat. You’re sure he’s just upset about losing his favorite booty call, just so not accustomed to not getting what he wants.
Rafe doesn’t budge. You’re sober enough to know you can’t continue this conversation in the hallway and risk your voices carrying into your neighbors’ homes.
Frustrated and embittered, you turn your doorknob and accept the fact that he’s not leaving without a fight.
You turn on the dim overhead light and stand in your tiny kitchen, facing Rafe with your arms crossed, as the door shuts behind him.
He steps towards you, hands sliding up your arms before he leans down to try to kiss you.
“Stop,” you mutter, shoving him off, pushing him away.
He tries again, putting his palms on your cheeks.
“No,” you snap, driving him away harder.
Rafe feels hollow. Lost. He’s fine with showing anger. It’s second nature to him. But this? This tangled feeling of yearning feels impossible to verbally express to you.
“Why?” is all he can sputter.
“I’m not letting you use me anymore,” you say through gritted teeth.
Rafe had no idea you’d react like this over the moronic shit he and his friend said. He thought you were fine with how things were. That you were detached.
Despite the rage and anxiety consuming him, the fact that you’re this angry over this ridiculous idea that you’re not a person to him, that you maybe want to be more, makes hope bloom in his heart.
“It’s not like that,” Rafe says.
“It is,” you argue. “I’m done acting like I’m okay with it. I could handle it at the beginning, but…”
You sigh. You can’t give him the satisfaction of telling him you have feelings for him. You start to get choked up again, though, your body betraying you. You can’t hide what he does to you from him anymore.
“I’m done,” you say resolutely. This man is nothing but trouble. “My contact picture in your phone is a fucking nude. I’m just body parts to you and I respect myself too much to keep this going. Just leave. You won’t change my mind.”
“I can’t… I can’t not see you anymore,” he grovels.
“You’re just mad you won’t be able to brag to your buddies about what I let you do to me.”
“No.” Rafe brings the heels of his hands up to his eyes, looking so damn flustered. “I’m not mad about that. I… Fuck, it’s…”
“What about when he called me a slut to run through? You laughed. After he said something so fucking horrible about me-”
“Wait,” he snaps, tone rising. “Just wait. Let me talk.”
“Then talk,” you say sharply, shocked by his audacity to be the angry one here.
He takes a deep breath.
“When he called you that, I…” Rafe rakes his hand through his hair. “It’s how we always talk and I - I know that’s a shitty excuse, but I didn’t have the balls to tell him to shut the fuck up. And then last night…”
He vaguely gestures to his black eye. His mind replays the rage he felt when he heard the vulgar words used to describe you. The way his fist met his friend’s jaw. Rafe walked away with a swollen eye, but it was nothing compared to what he had inflicted.
“He said something about you and I beat the shit out of him like I should’ve the first time.”
“What’d he say?” you ask after a beat.
“It doesn’t matter.”
So, that’s what happened to him last night. You’re almost touched to hear he defended your honor, but the memory of the text you saw on his phone darkens your mood instantly, reminding you of how dispensable and cheap it made you feel.
“This the same friend who texted you about all the bitches at that party?” you say bitterly.
Rafe meets your gaze.
“You saw that?”
“Yeah,” you say. Rafe realizes that was the reason for your abrupt coldness. You were jealous. He hates that he hurt you, but admittedly, the feeling of you being envious over him is so fucking gratifying.
He sighs your name. He didn’t even glance at another girl last night. Why would he? “For fuck’s sake, I texted you all night. I told you I’m always thinking about you.”
“Rafe, you texted me about how all you want to do is hook up with me.”
“That’s not… that’s not all I want,” he sighs, defeated. How can he explain that the way he touches you is how he tells you what he’s feeling? He’s so fucking bad at talking about it.
“Then why did you talk about me like that?” you ask.
“I was…” Rafe begins. He swallows hard, his eyes refusing to meet yours now. “I know I shouldn’t have said that shit but-”
“You’re only saying this now ‘cause you got caught.”
“No, it’s - it’s more than that. I-”
“You were just being honest,” you say with a shrug. “I did everything you told me to and you wanted to brag.”
“Yeah- I mean, no…” he stammers. Your use of the past-tense is so damn hurtful, the implication that you really are through with him, and before he can think to hide it, tears start to gloss his eyes. “Just listen-”
“If I’m just an easy fuck to you, then that’s fine, just own up to it.”
“Let me talk!” he finally shouts. Rafe’s head is spinning. He’s angry and anxious and close to losing his mind.
You don’t even cower, not letting him get to you. But when you realize he’s crying, too, your blood runs cold.
“Goddamn it.” He frantically brings his hands up to his head, fingers on his temples. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to- I don’t know how to talk about this fucking feeling you give me.”
“Try,” you say.
Rafe’s breath is shaky, blinking fast as he gazes at you.
“This is more than sex. I’m fucking… I’m falling for you,” he finally admits.
No words come to your mind. The air between you is thick. Your heart is pounding in your ears. Your stomach is numb.
Rafe lowers his gaze, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He’s worked himself up in such a panic.
He doesn’t know how or when you cracked into this side of him that he didn’t even know existed, but you did. And you’re not leaving.
“Are you serious?” you ask quietly through a shallow exhale.
“Do I need to beg you to believe me?” he says.
“Yeah,” you say with a sarcastic huff, pushing him to see where his limit is. To see if he’s being honest.
You can’t believe what you’re seeing when Rafe sinks down onto the floor in front of you, his knees on your cheap linoleum. He takes your hand in his, pulling it to his warm mouth, soft lips kissing your palm.
He realizes he would rather lose all of his pride than lose you.
“Rafe,” you say, the edge to your tone completely gone now.
The shift in your dynamic is harrowing. He’s always the one in control, the one with the upper hand. Now he’s on his fucking knees for you.
“I’m sorry,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I’m so fucking sorry I said that shit. I’ll never do it again. You’re not just an easy…”
He can’t even say it.
“You’re so much more,” he says. There’s hopelessness in his gaze. You’re rattled with shock, your heart feeling like it’s burning in your chest.
You can’t believe it. You can’t fathom that he likes you more than just from the waist down.
“What if I stopped hooking up with you?” you challenge. “I keep seeing you but it’s nothing physical. What then?“
“That’s okay,” he says, without hesitation.
“I mean no sex,” you say. “At all.”
“Fine.”
You pout at him in endearment as relief pools through you.
Rafe is racked with the deepest form of desperation. He can’t picture a day without you. Without your smile, your humor, your voice, your smell. He fell off the deep end and there’s no fucking saving him.
Your stare is puncturing him. He’s sure he fucked up too massively to earn any sort of chance with you ever again.
But when you finally lean down to press your lips onto his, euphoria rushes through his entire being. He frantically scrambles to stand, feeling his face contort with disbelief and gratefulness and a yearning so hard that it hurts.
Rafe’s kisses are deep but fast, his big hands cradling your head, thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.
You pull back, looking up at him with a tiny shred of remaining suspicion that he’s not being genuine.
“Let me stay the night,” he says, voice low, lids heavy. You’re unsure that he really means he’d be with you even without the sex.
You only look at him.
“I won’t try anything,” he adds. He knows you needed the reassurance. You stare at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, resting your hands on his firm, heaving chest.
“Shower with me,” you tell him, restless to wash the night off of you. “And prove it.”
Rafe nods, your face still in his hands. Fuck, he feels like you have him wrapped around your finger. He’d do anything to keep you in his life.
“Let me do the work,” he says.
You step back, heart racing, and raise your hands over your head. His fingers quickly find the edge of your top, slowly lifting it and pulling it off of you. Your jeans are next, the denim sliding down your legs.
Rafe presses against you, leading you backwards into your bathroom. His lips press against your forehead as he unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the floor.
He’s on his knees again as he peels your underwear off. You watch his eyes trail up your bare body. He can’t hide the lust in his stare, no matter how hard he tries.
As you turn on the shower, you hear the rustle of him taking his clothes off. When you step into the tub, you feel his body against your back. Big hands skim up your arms as you turn the faucet, prompting hot water to rain down on both of you.
Rafe can’t stop himself from asking.
“Did you talk to any guys at that party?” His voice echoes against the porcelain, loud even over the sound of the shower.
You smile to yourself.
“How am I gonna focus on another guy when you’re texting me so damn much?”
“Princess,” he huffs. You laugh and turn in his arms to rest your hands on his shoulders.
“No,” you tell him. “I didn’t want to.”
Rafe smirks and leans down, but stops an inch away from your lips.
“Am I allowed to kiss you?” he asks.
“Hmm… fine,” you tease. “But that’s the farthest you can go.” He captures your lips in his, his mouth warm. You feel him grow against you and you pull away to look down, his cock already almost fully hard.
“Okay, I can’t control that,” he says. You meet his eyes and share the first laugh that you’ve had together tonight.
You pick up your body wash and hand it to him. It’ll drive him crazy to touch you like this and not be able to do anything about it.
“You get my body,” you say, admittedly excited to tempt him. “And I’ll do my hair.”
Rafe’s forehead crinkles in concentration as he squeezes the body wash into his palm. Your eyes are on him as he lathers the gel over your shoulders first.
“You’re cute when you’re focused,” you giggle, starting to massage your shampoo into your hair.
The sound of your laugh, the aroma in the air is so fucking nice to him. It’s so you.
His palms move up and down your arms in gentle circles. Rafe’s groin is getting tighter by the second and the fact that he won’t get any relief for it is agony. But he needs to prove himself to you.
“You ignoring my tits on purpose?” you ask.
Rafe cocks his head in mild irritation. Touching you there will only make him harder. You exhale in pleasure once his hands rest on your breasts, gently kneading.
“You can’t make those sounds,” he says, voice strained.
“I can do whatever I want,” you reply. His hands dip below the curves of your tits. You purposely moan louder than you normally would just to torment him.
His jaw tightens as he collects more of your body wash to smooth down your stomach. His hands slide over your hips, the water and soap making your skin extra slippery, and he lands on your ass.
“Massage me a bit there,” you tell him. He huffs an aggravated chuckle, then starts to rub into your flesh.
The crook of Rafe’s neck is at your chin as he leans to massage you and you plant a gentle kiss on his wet skin. The gesture makes his stomach twist with adoration.
“Okay, that’s enough,” he mumbles, running his hands up your back. You can feel him against your leg; he’s fully erect and pining for you to touch him.
“My ass is still sore,” you groan, continuing to lather the shampoo onto your hair. “You were so rough on me in front the mirror, remember?”
The memory of fucking you on the floor in his room makes his arousal skyrocket even higher. He exhales and smooths his hands over your ass again.
You tilt your head to the side as you moan. You feel Rafe’s mouth press against your exposed neck, then he grunts against your skin and moves away abruptly.
“Getting frustrated?” you whisper.
“No,” he lies.
The hot water continues to ebb down your body as Rafe squeezes your ass.
“You can get my legs now,” you mumble. He’s half-relieved, half-frustrated to have to move his hands.
Rafe rubs in circles over your thighs, his breath heavy.
“Get on your knees so you can reach everything,” you say as you wash out the shampoo from your hair. You’re testing him, ordering him around like he usually does to you, seeing if he’ll crack.
When he kneels down, you hike your leg up onto the tub, your middle inches away from his face.
“Fuck,” he breathes, wishing he could just taste you. His hands are sliding down your calves as he gawks at the beauty between your legs, knowing you’re purposely tempting him.
His eyes trail up to your face. He looks ravenous for you.
Falling for you. He said he was falling for you.
“What?” you say with a smile. Rafe only shakes his head, continuing to run his hands over your legs.
“I said kissing is allowed,” you say, revelling in this feeling of control over him.
He doesn’t waste a second. His lips are against your pussy immediately, kissing you over and over. If you tried to keep count of how many kisses he was planting on you, you’d fail in seconds.
Arousal twists deep inside you, wanting him so badly, but loving the game you’re playing.
His lips wrap around your clit and he starts to suck, prompting you push your fingers through his hair, damp from the shower, and tug to pull him off of you.
“Kisses only,” you say. “Unless you didn’t mean what you said?”
“I did,” he huffs. He roughly shoves your wrist away to get close to you again, lips puckered. You feel his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, then pull apart your lips.
“Can I spread you open, baby?” he asks.
“No,” you respond.
“Please,” he begs.
“Kisses. Only.”
He groans. You laugh.
“You got me so turned on,” you moan. “I need to just…”
You slip your fingers between his mouth and your clit, denying him any more access.
Rafe thinks this could be thing to that finally makes him lose his fucking mind. But he stays still, knees aching from the hard tub, as you play with yourself right in front of him.
“That feels so nice,” you whisper, your knees weak. You put your other hand against the shower wall, looking down at him.
“Hold me up,” you order. He grips your hips and watches you moan and writhe over him, dipping your head back.
You dip a finger inside of you, tightening and sighing.
“Fuck.” He literally whimpers the word.
“God, there’s so many things I can think about while I touch myself,” you moan. “Like when we fucked in your car? Or when I squirted on you?”
“Which time?” he mutters, trying to have any sort of power right now by reminding you of what he can do to you.
“Aw,” you coo. “Is this like when I’m on camera? You can watch but you can’t touch me?”
“Shit,” Rafe breathes. You moan, the water dripping off of you.
He has to look away at this point. His cock is so hard that it hurts. His eyes go low, seeing a bead of precum on his swollen tip. He tries to comfort himself by thinking about how he can jerk off later.
“Get up,” you say. He brings himself up on his feet, towering over you again.
You turn your back to him again and start to rub your scalp to make sure you washed all the shampoo out.
“You’re probably cold on that side, hmm?” you ask.
Rafe’s temperature is the least of his concerns.
“I’ll keep you warm,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder. You run your hands down your body and pause over your ass, spreading yourself open.
“Put your cock right here,” you tell him.
“I- I can’t,” he moans.
“You can,” you encourage.
He kneels to place himself right where you want him. You let go, your asscheeks hugging him, feeling his length pressed up against you.
“Fuck,” he whispers, twitching against you. “This is… fuck…”
“If you didn’t mean that you can be with me without the sex, just say so.”
“I meant it,” he says. “But this is torture. I need to go. I’ll wait for you in your room, okay?”
“You can’t keep it together for me?” you tease. “I thought you liked me.”
“I fucking love you,” Rafe groans, making your heart flutter.
You’re done playing this game. You need him now.
You turn to face him, pulling him down with your hands cupping his neck to kiss him. He’s biting your bottom lip, kissing you hard.
“We don’t have to do this,” he whispers breathlessly.
“I want to,” you say against his lips, wrapping your hand around his cock. “What do you want?” He bucks up against you, groaning.
“I wanna fuck you,” he pleads.
“Then fuck me.”
Rafe’s rough and fast as he hitches your leg up, pushing you to lean against the shower wall. He lines himself up at your cunt, stretching you so much nicer than your fingers ever could.
He keeps his eyes on you when he thrusts into you, his expression both needy and satisfied.
“Thank you,” he whispers. The feeling of him thanking you for letting him be inside you hits you like a drug.
Rafe is in heaven. You squeeze him so fucking good as he rocks in and out of you. He needs to make you cum before he does. You deserve it. You deserve all the pleasure in the world.
When he starts to rub his thumb over your clit, you’re trembling with bliss. Everything in this moment feels so damn good.
“You’re my girl,” he mumbles, his usual possessive side back now. “Say it.”
“I’m your girl,” you respond. “Fuck… I love you.”
Rafe is sure he has never felt happier in his life. His thrusts get harder and faster, and with the pressure on your clit and the hot water coating your body, you whine through your orgasm.
To him, it’s a gift watching you reach your peak. You clench around him in rhythmic flutters and he can’t hold back anymore, his cum gushing out of him so fucking hard that he sees stars.
This is the best sex he’s ever had. Because now he knows it’s more than just something physical for both of you.
He kisses you hard as his body trembles, pumping into you. His forehead is against yours as you pant together and even though he’s exhausted, he stays inside you as long as he can manage.
When he pulls out, he brings his hands to your cheeks and kisses you again.
“You meant that?” he asks. He needs to know you that really do love him. That it wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. You look up at him, his lips parted, the water dripping down his face.
“Yes,” you say. His dimples are deep in his cheeks as he smiles at you.
As Rafe helps you clean up, he’s pissed at himself that he never did this before. He hates that you had to always do this alone. He won’t ever let that happen again.
Once you’re both lying in your bed, your bedroom dark save for a streetlamp casting a dull light through the window, Rafe holds you tight.
Your cheek is against his shoulder as he surrounds you in his arms. You both remained naked and the feeling of your bare bodies pressed together like this is perfection.
You softly trace your finger over the bruise covering his eye. The one his friend left on him because of something he said about you.
“What’d he say?” you ask.
“I’m not repeating it,” Rafe replies.
“Please?” you ask. “I wanna know what made you go crazy.”
“He said I seem happier lately,” Rafe says. “And before I told him it was because I wanna… be with you for real, he said… he wants to see if he could get…”
“God,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. He doesn’t have to say any more. His buddy wanted a turn with you.
“But hey, I’m not gonna let anyone say anything like that about you, okay?” he promises. “I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who tries to.”
You picture being out in public with Rafe, his arm around you. And you can’t help but ask. You need to know.
“So… are you gonna… want me around your friends and stuff?” you ask.
“Of course,” he tells you, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re my girl, right?”
It’s jarring. You’re not a lower-class maid to him. Not his personal whore. Not his slutty sugar baby. You’re a woman he loves.
Legs tangled, you fall asleep together, and you adore that the worry of falling for him is now gone. Because you’re in love, and so is he, and now you can enjoy him without telling yourself you can’t.
When you wake up the next morning, you shuffle in your position to find him, but you’re alone.
Your heart drops. Could he have been faking…?
You can’t jump to that conclusion. You’re about to check your phone when you hear crinkling coming from the kitchen.
You put on underwear and the shirt you stole from him a while ago before padding into the kitchen. He’s standing over your table, removing containers from bags.
You realize it’s from your favorite nearby bistro. He ordered food for you.
“Breakfast?” you ask. Rafe looks up at you and he doesn’t understand how every time he sees you, you strike him with how adorable you are.
“You hungry?” he says.
You settle across from him at the table. You realize he must have referenced the screenshot you sent him after the first night that he stayed over, when he sent you money to order breakfast and you sent him proof of what you bought.
As you dig into your food, you gaze at him. Blue eyes meet yours. He smirks. It doesn’t feel real. He used to look so out of place in your apartment, but this feels so natural.
“We gonna talk about how much of a cuddler you are?” you tease.
“Shut up,” he laughs. “Eat your food.”
You laugh and continue to chew.
“What do you have to do today?” he asks.
“I should study,” you say. “I was going to last night after work, but you know…”
Rafe looks down and his Adam’s apple bobs with his hard swallow.
“Are you gonna keep working?” he asks. “I don’t want you to. I wanna take care of you.”
As much as he loves seeing you around his house twice a week, he’s been getting more and more uncomfortable with the idea of you having to work so hard, having to clean up after him.
“Yeah,” you finally say. “I think I need to have the independence. To know I’m working for my own money. Does that make sense?”
“With your attitude? Yeah,” he says. You laugh.
You hope the gossip between your coworkers doesn’t get any farther up the chain. For now, you want to keep your job and the steadiness it promises.
“You can’t pull me away from my work to hook up whenever you want, though, okay?” you say.
“Even when I find you in my bed?” he asks.
“That was one time,” you scoff.
Rafe leans over to place his phone in front of you. He has your contact info up. The photo isn’t what it was before, though. It’s a photo of you sleeping, cheek pressed on his chest.
He must have taken it this morning. He wants to prove you’re not just a body to him.
Your eyes study his screen and you smile, oblivious to the fact that he’s staring at you.
But then again, you never really noticed how much he looked at you whenever you came to work at the house.
He can still remember the rush he felt when he randomly found you on that damn website. You were a fucking fantasy to him, a dream that he never thought he’d get to live out.
But here you are and by some crazy stroke of luck, you found something in him worth loving.
Rafe always enjoyed having some sort of ownership over you, claiming you as his. Because deep down, he always kind of knew he belonged to you. Whether you want him or not, he’s yours.
(the end)
author’s note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT FOR THIS SERIES 💘 it’s so bittersweet ending it. i had so much fun writing this and it’s because of your comments and messages 😭 i’ll be writing more fics! if you want updates, please follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications since i’ll be reblogging my work there. love you all!!!
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Based on ep 5
ALASTOR
ALASTOR
BARKK BARK AOOOGAAA
Love a caring, defensive, sadistic, cannibilistic daddy demon
Title: Acts of service
Themes: slight submissive y/n, protective, blood, demon form, fluff, relationship dynamic, implied married couple, human life mentioned
Alastor can take a lot of shit…but even he has a breaking point….
(hehehehehehe)
Charlie’s hotel was not making the progress she wanted and so one day she shocked everyone with four words;
“My dad is coming”
The hotel was in a state of frenzy.
Everyone seemed excited to meet the King of Hell.
For once everyone was on one page and getting the place in tip top shape.
You had finally calmed Charlie down from her nth breakdown and had started primping yourself for the big man’s visit.
“Honestly its about time Luci showed his bright ass around here” you said as you patted some blush on.
Alastor was standing in the corner of your bedroom; oozing darkness menacingly.
He had been rather quiet and for once not making a fuss.
You almost smirked, whether or not he admits it
He adored Charlie
And HATED being bested in anything.
“Youre glowering dear” you say as you finish applying your flawless makeup.
“I just dont see what all the hoopla is about. So what if the Morningstar is coming…its just charlie’s dad” Alastor grumbled in a rant.
You giggled “Yea but this is important to Charlie so no funny business mister”
His big smile tightened and his eyes narrowed “no promises”
You and Charlie greeted Lucifer
“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”
He damned near choked Charlie in a bear hug before turning to you
“Long time no see Sis” you hummed and gave him a big squeeze, but not before hissing lowly in his ear “do not fuck this up Luci”
He swallowed and you grinned before walking to stand by Alastor.
You nudged him towards Lucifer and reluctantly he introduced himself.
“Alastor sir pleasure to put a face to the name”
Lucifer shot you a look before eyeing Alastor suspiciously
“Uuuhh and you are?”
Alastor eye twitched “i’m the host of the hotel…you might know me from my radio broadcast hmm?”
Lucifer shrugged “nope guess thats why Charlie named it the HAZbin hotel”
You facepalmed and charlie was visibly getting nervous as you could literally see Alastor’s ego flare
“HA HA HA actually i came up with that”
“Ha Ha Ha well it wasnt very clever!”
They were in each other faces now
Alastor growled “ha ha HA fuck you”
You interjected, getting between the two, mostly Alastor
“Boys Boys reign it in PLEASE” you threw a look at Alastor, who straightened his suit.
You sighed and turned your attention to Charlie
“Dear why dont you tell your dad the whole point of your hotel” you gave a tense smile.
“Y/n is right dad! Alastor here has been tremendous help with the hotel…i wouldnt have made it this far without him” lucifer made a face.
You could see the wheels turning in Alastor’s head
He was up to no good.
“Yeeeeessss we are all very proud of Charlie. I am honored to fulfill any wish this lovely young lady has”
He hugged Charlie and it took all of your willpower to not laugh at Lucifer’s annoyed look.
You giggled as he completely ignored Alastor and in turn to the others.
Charlie introduced her girlfriend and you could literally see his shoulders ease.
“OH thank Hell youre a lesbian! Cool cool i totally approve of THIS!”
Lucifer went on to give luxurious suggestions to Charlie, which Alastor shot down.
You sighed lovingly at Alastor’s antics.
He might have been the big bad Radio Demon, but he really was a softie when he wanted to be.
Definitely would have made a great dad…
You blushed at the thought.
Lucifer and Alastor were currently bickering with each other about who was the better father figure.
When suddenly the door flew open and a short, voluptuous, 1920 styled woman bursted in.
Your eyes widened “Mimzy?”
She squealed and embraced you in a tight hug, you kissed each other’s cheeks in greeting
“Ooooh y/n darling how you’ve been? Its been too long” she asked.
You grinned and gave a shrug “ooh it hasnt been that long has it?”
She greeted Alastor and gave you an astonished look “Y/n darling you still with dollface here?” you felt everyone eyes shift to you and you felt your eye twitch a bit but said nothing.
She begged to have you chat with her but you told her youll catch up her later, as you were helping Charlie and Alastor with Lucifer.
Not many people knew what your relationship with Alastor, hell not many people knew about Alastor life in general.
And you kind of liked to keep it that way but Mimzy was a talker if you ever saw one.
But Mimzy was not was one to just show up just out of nowhere…
She wanted something
You and Alaster were trailing behind Charlie as she explained the purpose of the hotel when Husker appeared to the two of you, addressing Alastor
“Boss a word with you” you quirked a brow when Alastor kindly shooed you off to have his discussion. You walked a bit aways before morphing into the wall and listened in on their conversation
“What is it?”
“You and I both know that Mimzy only pops her ass up when she needs somethin, that bitch is trouble and who knows what kind of shit she got into to come running to you”
True.
“Dont worry so much Husker, its nothing i cant handle, besides who in their right mind would cross me?”
“I mean…youve been gone a while and it aint like no one knows why-”
He was cut off
“And they dont need to know” that sharp smile was tight
Alastor patted Husker’s head condescendingly; like a pet.
Husker shoved his hand away angrily.
“Big talk for someone who’s also on a leash”
You saw Alastor glitch, eyes turning to black and glowing dials
Uh oh.
“What did you say?”
Your eyes widened as contract chains shot out at Husker, wrapping around his neck
Alastor was menacingly toying with the chain as he growled
“If you ever say that again i will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for every disrespectful wretch WHO DARES TO QUESTION ME!”
Husker was shaking like a leaf and you were stunned; Alastor rarely ever lost his composure.
When Alastor disappeared down the hall you morphed to Husker to ease his nerves
“Oh Husker are you ok?” you asked as you tried soothed his nerves.
He shook it off (not really) and grumbled “fucking asshole”
You headed back to the lobby with Husker when a loud BAM was heard.
What the fuck?
“Mimizy you skank c’mon out here!”
You see Mimzy hide behind the bar and raise a eyebrow.
You frown, going to heave her over the counter
“Mimzy care to enlighten me about what the actual fuck is that”
She sweatdropped “i-i may or may not have borrowed some money from a loan shark”
Your frown deepened “how. Much. money?”
“O-o fifty…grand”
You hissed.
The hotel was shaking and was being heavily damaged
You pulled charlie out of the way as some debris fell from the ceiling and hissed at Lucifer “arent you gonna do something!?”
He was trying to make this a life lesson and now was NOT the time.
You growled and went to march right outside to give those goons a piece of your mind when a clawed hand settled on your shoulder.
“Dont worry dear ill handle this”
“But Alastor…”
His smile turned wild “its about time i reminded everyone why i am here…a reminder to not fuck with the Radio Demon!”
He transformed. Antlers out and black tentacles flaring.
You watch him grow big in size and rip the gangsters apart, eating a few.
You smiled wickedy, hells he was hot
After he had his fun he shrunk back to normal and you launched yourself at him
Lovingly you purred into his neck “you ok now?”
He grinned, nuzzling you “i missed blowing off some steam”
Mimzy approached the two of you and you frowned, opening your mouth to say something but Alastor beat you to it
“I think you should go Mimzy. Now”
She was shocked. Usually Alastor let her off the hook and it was you who normally told people off.
“Y-you cant be serious…”
His eyes narrowed “I mean it. You brought danger to this place just for me to clean up your mess. I wont allow that here”
He was putting his foot down. You leaned into him, happy.
You flashed her a sharp grin “i agree Mimzy, you should go”
She blinked “you backing up your hubby over ya own friend? y/n!”
She hissed at Alastor “you think i dont know you? You cant really give a shit about this place”
You crossed your arms, giving her a pointed look, hissing as you felt your eyes glow in anger “leave Mimzy. While i’m the one being nice”
She huffed and turned to leave, but not before flipping you both off.
You relaxed and turned to Alastor, who was looking smug.
Tugging on his bowtie you craned his neck to your level, purring
“Bedroom now dear”
His ears perked and his smile grew wider “feeling big emotions doll?”
“Ooh you have no idea”
With a flick of your hand the hotel was restored and you were whisking the lanky red demon upstairs to blow off some steam of your own
….
extra:
"what y/n and Alastor are married?!"
charlie blinked "yea i thought you guys knew that"
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
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𝐒𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋
DAY 12: SOUNDING
With: Keigo Takami (Hawks)
Word Count: 1.9k
Warnings: Sub! Hawks, gn! reader, sounding, HEAVY sub/dom spaces, hints of sado/masochism, mentions of anal fingering, keigo crying and twitching, cursing, pee/urine mentioned throughout
A/N: This is one of those smut fics that are heavily unrealistic (which i LOVEEEE), keigo says some cringe things at some points tho. LOL
Keigo has such a pretty face. People stop and stare at him on the street, he has been recruited by multiple modeling companies and is lusted over by teenage girls all over the world. Born to be nicknamed, “Pretty Boy”. It was cute, really, and he seemed to love the name.
But to you, he doesn't look his best when he is photographed in lewd poses, or when the media catches the way he looks at you, or even with his candid hero photos that are unbearably hot.
No, to you, Keigo looks his absolute best when he cried. Of course, not from sadness, from pleasure and pain. When his face is flushed, his eyes are hazy, and tears coat his cheeks. When he looks up at you in pure adoration, and trembles under your hold.
But that was the sadistic side of you talking. The side of you who wants to completely ruin the man. It's hard not to when he looks so pretty during it.
So, slowly you've been finding new ways to wreck him and with each one, he reacts perfectly. You've gotten addicted to it. Him, really.
Tonight you are going to try sounding. You stare at the small metal rod, and then back to your lover, who is leaning against the headboard, and trying to act like he is not completely terrified. He gulps when you peer at him, straightening his back, and trying to uphold his cocky grin.
“You're scared, aren't ya?”
He scoffs, looking away. “No. I'm the one who asked for this, why would I be scared?”
As much as you like ruining Keigo, Keigo loves being ruined. You have to keep a close eye on him because he swears he has no limits and has not used his safeword so far. Everything is on the table for him, and that sometimes worries you. You've held down your desires but he voices them and is the one to beg you for more and more.
Urethra play was not something he has tried. “Mhmm. It will be fine, we will go slow,” You reassure him despite his words. You place a comforting hand on his thigh and he sighs, smiling at you softly.
“Yeah. It'll be fine. You're right.”
Horrifying is the best word to describe what's in front of him right now. The “thin” rod is now lodged halfway into his urethra and he's panting out, thighs trembling. It doesn't exactly feel bad, but it's foreign, and the sight in front of him makes him uneasy. Nothing is supposed to go in that hole.
He's gripping onto your hand for comfort, eyes wide as saucers. “We aren't even all the way in yet, Keigo.”
He whines out at the words, resting his head on your shoulder. Sweat beads at his forehead and his face is flushed. “F-Feels so full.”
You teasingly tap on the rod, and his back arches, wings fluttering out at the strange feeling. He grips your hand and stares at you, silently pleading. “Sorry. Forgot. Let's put it all in, yeah?”
“Dont–Dont know if I can.”
You stroke the bottom of his shaft and smile at him. “Got plenty of room still. It's supposed to touch your prostate, y'know.”
Yeah, he definitely knew that. For the last couple of days, he researched the ins and outs of this. But still, he doesn't know how the hell it could go any deeper. He feels overwhelmingly stuffed even from half of it being inserted. He gulps and glances at you, but nods.
“Take a deep breath for me, Keigo. Promise it'll feel good in a bit.” You're right, and he knows it. Just like when you fingered him for the first time, it feels weird in the beginning, but now he's addicted to it. This could be a new thing to drive him mad. He sure hopes so.
He takes a deep breath, and you slowly continue to inch it in, letting gravity do the most part. The road is slippery from the lube and it goes in without much difficulty.
Keigo on the other hand is going insane. He is moaning and whining, gripping onto the sheets with such force that you are afraid he is going to rip it. You watch his arm muscles clench and unclench, and he throws his head back. “Oh. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” He cries with every second it goes deeper.
You hush him, using your other hand to stroke him gently, hoping to coax it in. His squirming makes it harder, and you don't want to hurt him, so you try your best to pin his hips down beneath you so they won't jump up.
And at last, it reaches the bottom. You pull away and look up at him. Keigo is trembling, back arched pornographically, and staring at the ceiling with an open mouth. Tears drip down his cheeks, and his legs are trembling, bent, and spread wide. “All done, it's all the way in now. Shhh, just gotta get adjusted to it.”
He shakes his head and lets out a cry, “Fuck. It's weird. Feels so weird! Full–I cant–”
You lean forward to press your lips to his, cutting his frantic rambling off. “Keigo, do you want to use your safeword?” You ask, just for reassurance.
He shakes his head frantically. “No! Wait! I-I never said I didn't like it!” He pleads desperately to you, even if you haven't tried to make an effort to remove it. His mind seems to be scattered, but this is how he is when he usually tries new things in bed. Today, just a little bit more extreme, considering you haven't tried anything even close to this.
“What does it feel like, Birdie?”
He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Feels full. D-Different type of full. It's weird. And it also feels like I gotta pee a little bit. But in a good way? It's all so weird and overwhelming, Y/N!”
You gulp, watching the way his eyes move around frantically. The way his body is bright red, and he's staring at you with desperate eyes. His mouth is glossy, and his eyes are wet. This is your favorite face of Keigos. This is what you have been wanting to see.
The urges get the better of you. “I'm going to move it now Keigo.”
His eyes widen, and before he can even protest, you move it upward, slightly. His back arches again and he gasps for air. “O-Oh–Its–Fuckkkkk.”
You push it back in completely and he keens, gripping onto your hand with wide eyes. A loud, desperate whine is let out, and more tears stream down his face. He's withering under you, and you can't help but stare at his pretty physique. “Are you oka–”
“Again!” He sobs, legs moving sporadically against the sheets.
His words make you gulp. He's falling into that state again. The one where his only task is to get himself completely fucked dumb. He doesn't want to think about anything except his pleasure, and frankly, his adorable facial expression is pulling you into your very own state with him.
You lift the rod up, farther than last time, until more than half of it sticks out. He stares at it, panting loudly and waiting for you to push it back in. It makes his adrenal pulse, and his mouth begins to water.
You don't tease him too long, and abide by his wishes, pressing the full thing in until it reaches the very bottom of his cock. He moans this time, enjoying it more with every second. Tears continue to fall, but he can't pay attention to them, instead focused on the feeling of being so full. If he had a toy in the other end, he surely would have lost his mind. Next time, for sure.
You continue to bring it up and down and he gets louder and louder with each stroke, not caring for whoever hears him. He is feeling such intense pleasure, everyone should hear his cries. Or at least that is what he believes.
“So cute. We found another hole for me to abuse, yeah Keigo?” You purr, eyes traveling up his shaking body with hunger.
He nods his head frantically. “Yes. Yes! Please fuck it more, I'm begging!”
You stop for a moment, a teasing gleam in your eyes. “Want me to fuck your pee hole? How lewd, Birdie.”
But to your dismay, he isn't responding to the teasing as you hoped. Instead, just agreeing with every word, too lost in the subspace to really care for how dirty your words are. “Yes! F-Fuck my pee hole. Need it. S-So full!”
You don't mind your failed attempt, now staring fondly at the pretty boy in front of you, who is completely out of it by now. It usually takes him longer to get to this state, and it was intriguing that this little rod had such a huge effect on him.
Your pace is quicker, and you use your other hand to stroke him off. His mouth hangs open, and drool begins to bead at the corner of his mouth. Every breath is a high-pitched, airy moan. It's adorable, really.
You watch his thighs start to clench and you raise your eyebrows, knowing that he's going to cum sometime soon. When you glance back up at his face, he's staring back at you, sniffling gently, but his eyes are full of adoration.
“C-Cum? Please?” He is struggling to speak, and you can't help but take mercy on him. He was so cute not to.
“Sure, baby. You can cum,” You coo, leaning forward to kiss his abdomen. He lets out a whine in thanks and nods his head.
A couple seconds go by and his breaths become quicker, louder too. His toes begin to curl, and he grips onto the bedsheets. “N-Now!” He begs, and you quickly take out the rod for him to cum.
White liquid flies out and falls onto his stomach, and you continue to use one hand to stroke him through it all. He takes loud gasps and lets out a loud shaky moan, and then another equally loud and high in pitch. His body constricts in odd, but cute ways, and he clenches his eyes shut, causing more tears to fall down his face.
You sit and admire him, only stopping your hand movements when he lets out a broken sob at the feeling of overstimulation.
A couple seconds go by, and you hum quietly, waiting for him to talk. Depending on what he says will determine if he wants to keep going or rest. The ball is in his court.
It doesn't take him too long to decide, obviously still in the subspace, but willing to communicate.
“Wanna. I wanna. H-Hey, why did you stop?” He complains, whiny and dramatic. You raise your eyebrows at him and bark a short laugh.
You aren't even surprised at this point. So, you pick up the rod again, and he stares at it, like a dog to a bone. He grins, the smile fucked out, and lazy. “Feels, so empty. Put it back, pleaseeeee!”
When you plunge it back in, he almost cums again on the spot.
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