What is the use in repetition? You endlessly repeat. Expecting change? Tranquility? You fawn over fictional characters, people you've never met, just because you want a taste of what could've been.
It will never be. We know this, so we try desperately, clinging to our fictional lives that we have created, hoping, praying to everything, everyone, that it may be real.
Then we taste reality. It is bitter. We cry because we know. And we wish we didn't. We grasp at the lives we want, but we cannot have. Because we are just here. There is no other place for us.
Yet we still hold on, desperate and unwilling to see. We close our eyes, and you dream. It's awe inspiring in a way. Just the lengths anyone would go to deny. Deny deny deny. And others will let you. They'd be hypocrites otherwise, because they do the same.
And I cry, because I know. I know what you see, what I see, and what we so desperately want to be. And you cry, because you know what I see. And you so desperately want it to be.
And the cycle continues, repeating and denying, weeping and crying. And in the end, we will just dream again.
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summary: rafe cameron x afab maid!reader
cw: titfucking, rimming/ass eating, collaring, power imbalance/dubcon, no real face slapping but reader gets rafe’s rings pressed into their face, gun mentions, rafe talks about wanting to do a line off reader’s tits, throwaway implication that his dad saw you, general rafe-esque warnings 💀, very plotless & possibly ooc (i’m new to the show but i’ve been lurking for a bit), rafe spits on reader, slight dumbification/objectification, hate sex coded but that's more bc i have a love/hate relationship with rafe, he calls reader a bitch once and a also a slut once, use of good girl
block & move on if uncomfortable !!
do not translate, repost, or give ai my work
kinktober masterlist
This stupid carpet is hell on your knees. Not that there was any time to pull a pillow down under them, you were pulled into the room and shoved down so fast you got dizzy. You’re brought out of your ruminations by a rough palm seizing your face in its grasp and squeezing.
Rafe huffs, leaning forward to make sure he didn’t miss the way your eyes widened as his fingers tightened. His gaudy rings are going to leave impressions on your cheeks but it’s hard to care about that right now. One second, you’re dusting off the son of your employer’s bedroom, and the next you’re getting a wad of split slung on your face.
Your pussy decides to be a traitor and clench in response.
“Sorry ‘bout that………” Rafe trails off, flicking the spit off your cheek like he was picking at a persistent hangnail.
The apology is as insincere as it could be but something about the bored inflection in his tone gets you wet.
“It’s fine.” Your “ice princess facade” as he’s called it falls apart a tad, an embarrassing heat blooming throughout your face.
He seems satisfied with his attempt at amateur art and scoops the rest up with two of his fingers. He doesn’t ask you to clean them off, just shoves them in between your plump lips without a word.
“You’re so fuckin’ messy, being such a shitty maid right now, you know that, babe?” He hums, giving your face one final squeeze.
You’re not even sure he knows your name, he sure doesn’t act like it. All he does is coo at you condescendingly as you suckle on his fingers, telling you how much better you are at this. Once you’ve done an adequate job of polishing them off, he pulls the digits away and gives you a weak love tap. Rafe’s obviously wanting to wring something else out of you.
You hate that your first instinct is to say “Yes, sir?”
You also hate that it’s what actually fucking comes out of your mouth.
The grin that splits his mouth reminds you of the only time you’ve ever successfully caught a mouse in an old fashioned trap. A vermin that used to disgust you until it stayed and you gave it a name. And then your mom has to turn you away from the sight of Jacque’s tiny body cleaved in two.
“Get those fucking clothes off, now.” He orders you, palming himself through his khakis. "And toys don't talk back."
You roll your eyes and comply. You ignore Rafe's ramblings about how he wished his dad made you wear one of those skimpy made costumes without underwear, that he way he could stare at your pussy whenever you bent over. The door is wide open, you know you could just make a break for it if you wanted. But you kind of like how the humiliation twists your stomach in a knot. The air in the room gets so much hotter when you focus on the large bulge in front of your face.
As soon as your uniform is lying on the hardwood floor in a rumpled heap, your tits are being squished together. Rafe takes several moments to weigh each globe of flesh in his hands.
"Pretty tits, always wondered what they looked like under that stupid uniform. Wanted to make a mess of you so bad but you had to be all fuckin' stuck up and prissy." He hisses, digging his nails into your breasts.
He massages them in circular motions, forcing them to press together like he could cum untouched to the sight of it alone.
You obediently stay silent as you watch Rafe stagger to his feet and wrestle his leather belt out of his pants. His bottom lip is being toyed with to the point that tiny drops of blood are peeking out of the skin. The leather makes a thwack! sound as it passes through the final belt loop and flops around. Rafe continues to eye your tits like a hawk as he wraps the belt around his hand and kneels down to your level.
He tilts your head up with one finger under your chin, "This is going around your neck, okay? I don't have a leash to go with it, but I'll get one for next time."
You open your mouth to speak or maybe to moan at the vision of the expensive leather tensely coiled around your vulnerable neck like a snake about to strike. The warning look he gives you shut you up, but your damp panties made you want to push him further.
"Don't move a muscle."
The belt was warm to the touch, probably because of all the hours Rafe had spent on the golf course or wherever his "business" takes him. You stay perfectly still as he curled it around your neck, having to wrap it around you again due to the length. The metal belt buckle clicked as he fastens it, tugging it firmly to test how tight it was. It definitely feels like a weight baring down on you, but you seem to be able to breathe so he steps back again.
"There we go, pretty bitch just for me."
His pants fall to the ground unceremoniously, revealing the cock you may have had a stray wet dream or two about. Crowned by neatly and clearly obsessively trimmed hair, it looks about 7 inches and thicker than your forearm. His cock has a slight left curve, with a couple prominent veins and an almost reddish-pink colored tip that puffs out at the sides a bit.
Rafe's cockhead catches the drool that embarrassingly leaks out of your mouth, and you kitten lick the slit as you stare up at him through your lashes. You want to smile at the punched-out groan emanating from above you, but he might slap you for getting cocky, it wouldn't be unwelcome.
"You like it, babe? Yeah, I bet you do."
He brings your hands up to your tits and you pick up on what he wants you to do. Anticipating Rafe Cameron's needs is part of your job after all. You scrape the sides of your chipped painted nails against them as you softly cup and squish the globes together, creating a perfect pocket for him.
"Good girl." He chuckles, ruffling your hair like you were his pet.
He savors the wet slide of his cock through the valley of your breasts. You hold them impossibly closer together, ignoring the discomfort by getting lost in the game of peek a boo his tip is playing with you during every thrust. A near constant stream of precum is flowing from the silt and ending up all over the tops of your tits.
Rafe pants as he speeds up his thrusts, his pupils expanding as he takes in the spectacle of you hot dogging him with your tits. For how preppy he likes to act sometimes, he sure does seem to enjoy painting you with his bodily fluids. He weaves his hands down from their deadly hold on your hair to pinch and flick your nipples.
" 'G-gonna cream all over these gorgeous tits, get them messy, then snort some coke off your nipples after.”
It doesn't take as long as a man like him would prefer before he's spilling all over your heaving chest with a sound so inhuman you'd think he was possessed.
You're past caring if he sees you hungrily open your mouth as wide as possible in the hopes of catching some of his cum in your mouth. You grind your sopping wet cunt against the floor when you do, and fuck it tastes better than it has any right to.
A quiet 'shit' rings out and the room spins as you're swiftly flipped on your stomach. Rafe crowds behind you and yanks your hips up. You don't think much of it until you feel warm breath on your ass. You jolt in surprise, and he gives you a light smack on both cheeks before spreading them with his thumb.
"Bet you thought I wanted your pussy, huh? Well, this tiny hole right here looks much cuter, you can't blame me. We'll get you some cute plugs." Followed by a flat tongue licking a stripe over your rim. He gives your hole a strangely soft peck and then teases the tip of his tongue past the entrance.
You squeal, which you'd be mortified by if the sensation of Rafe's tongue filling up your ass didn't feel so good. The way he curls it and jabs it deeper between your cheeks in short busts is running a huge risk of causing you to go insane. It's like he's exploring every nook and cranny, you should be laughing because the man that treats you like a back-alley whore is up to his ears in your ass. His groans and grunts are muffled but they give you the confidence to be louder.
He drags his face away and hangs his tongue over you until a load of saliva drips down onto you. You shiver when it meets your hole. A high-pitched moan comes out when he massages it into the puckered skin with his thumb.
He dots sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down your rim, nipping the flesh as he goes.
"I would say it's gonna be too tight, but sluts like you can take anything, right?"
You're too busy nodding to notice the sound of shoes hitting the floor in their rush to get away, or that the person wearing them softly closes the door behind them.
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Simon Simon Simon Simon
"communication is key" to YOU. im gonna be mysterious about it until he gets a hint
(bet simon gets one look at you and realizes that must be what you're into lol so he edges you like that; brushing his hand on the small of your back on accident when he walks by behind you, squeezing your thigh in a second then the next he's reaching for the remote as though his touch was all an error.
he does all these little things that leaves you gasping, breath hitching, only for him to tamp it all back down. he looks at you with a confused tilt to his head, brows furrowed when he sees you squirming, and he thinks you're going to break soon, only—
"it's nothin'," you murmur, looking away, heat filling up your cheeks.
simon's nose flares in his frustration because why are you so goddamn stubborn?
so he amps the teasing; makes them more deliberate, more obvious.
he rubs his front against your back, makes sure that the chub underneath his sweats brush against the cleft of your ass, and just gives you a small smirk when you twirl to glare up at him. his hand falls atop your tits when he pulls you close to his side; sometimes he just lets it hover but sometimes his thumb "accidentally" drags against the plump fat, making you gasp.
he looks at your eyes every time, and he no longer gives you excuses to what he does.
and slowly, slowly, you give in.)
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crazy where did all that come from!!
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