Kildare Elementary: Part One

GIRL OF THE SEA | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Blurb)

Pairing – Rafe x Mermaid!Female Reader

Summary — After leaving the Island Club, Rafe hadn't expected to find a mermaid on the beach.

Word Count — 1.0K

Content — fluff, mentions of nakedness.

Dedication — to @erwinsvow whom I talked about this concept months ago, and to The Little Mermaid (2023) movie that's currently playing at the corner of my screen as I write this.

Rafe hadn’t expect to find you.

Half-past eleven, he was leaving the Island Club and found intrigue in the distance. A glimmer against the harsh currents, banging against the coastline. He hadn’t given it much thought—until it looked like the sea was glowing like stardusts had fallen into the ocean.

Drunk, he trekked down the valleys of the beach, slipped against the coarse sand, and made his way to the shoreline. He hadn’t expected much—perhaps it was a mirage, a trick of his sight—but what he found was completely out of his realm of predictions.

It was you.

Naked.

Your legs stretched across the wet sand, your body bare of any fabric, saved for seashells covering your breasts. Your hair was damp, freshly pulled from the ocean, and your fingers traced the skin of your thighs, mesmerized, as if you had never seen such a thing.

Because you hadn’t.

You were a mermaid, sworn to keep away from the surface world, to stay off humans. But you were fascinated—you saw the Island Club’s fireworks, the twinkles in the sky, and the bare beach, voided of humans, voided of predators, that you just wanted a taste for it yourself.

Somehow, you pulled to the coast, dragged your tail against the sand, pulled your weight till it found dry land. Afterward, with permission of a secret potion, you digested the ingredients and shifted into legs. Human legs. You gasped at the fascination of it being attached to your own, that they were yours to control.

Rafe followed the trail. He saw the thick tail outlined against the sodden sand, before being transformed into a pair of legs. It looked odd, but he wasn’t going to assume mermaids; he always thought they were a myth, a folktale.

He just thought you were crazy.

“Hello?” Rafe asks with a slur of his words, blinking in surprise at your lack of modesty. You look up, eyes twinkling, and a smile curves at your lips. You don’t have a sense of danger, a sense of fear for the humans everyone warned you about.

Instead, you were intrigued, your eyes trailing down the length of Rafe’s body, the way he held the bottle of beer in his hands. You don’t have that back in the ocean.

“Legs,” you point at him, and for a second, Rafe grows self-conscious.

“What?” He gapes.

“You have legs,” you repeat, a grin broadening your face with childlike wonder. Your fingers shifts, pointing at yourself. “Me too! Isn’t it wonderful?”

Rafe assumes you’re high. That you’ve taken something from the Pogues, and you’re here, in the middle of the beach, alone, naked, with no consideration other than the fact that you had legs. Whatever you took, he wants a taste of it himself.

But it’s also odd. Because you didn’t look intoxicated. Your eyes are a little wild, but that’s from enthusiasm, from curiosity, not from narcotics. They’re clear, they’re wide, and they’re wrinkled with this spark of joy Rafe had never seen in a human before.

“Yeah,” Rafe drawls slowly, “Yeah, they’re good.”

You beam, your hands propping your upper body on the sand as you attempt to pull yourself up. On the first try, you fell miserably, landing harshly against the coarse grains, and an oomph leaves your throat. Rafe winces at the sight, at the pain you must endure, but all you do is laugh.

You’re laughing because you never done this before.

You try again, but your knees buckle under your weight. Gravity, it seems, is against you. But you’re resilient. You pull yourself up, several times if necessary, so you can finally use the opportunity to walk on land as you always dreamed of.

You fall again.

“Alright, alright,” Rafe steps forward, and wraps his arm around your waist, helping to your feet. “Come on, Bambi, it ain’t that hard,” he says in a light tone, and you smile.

“It’s new,” you confess in a soft, sirened whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks, turning to you, your face centimeters from his. The glow of your expression is enchanting, like all the right proportions, all the right features that Rafe had always seen in a woman. It steals his breath away. “This your first time walkin’?”

You grin, “Isn’t it amazing?”

“Yeah, yeah, amazing,” he shakes his head, holding you upright, as you slowly find your footing. Your feet touch the sand, and it sinks under your weight, grains trickling between your toes. Toes, things you’ve never had before, and you wiggle them. Oh, it feels glorious.

“Good?” Rafe asks, recognizing now that it’s not going to be easy helping you out of this beach. He isn’t sure if you’re not drunk, if you’re not doped up, but he is sure that there’s absolutely no way you’re in the right state of mind to tell him which direction is your home.

He has to take you back to Tannyhill.

But he can’t if you’re completely naked, hidden modesty behind two shells that look like they were strung together from a costume.

He has to help.

He doesn’t know why he wants to.

Shrugging off his jacket, Rafe steadily lets you go to cover you up. Thankfully, the jacket falls mid-thigh, covering up the essentials so that you won’t get arrested for public indecency.

You feel the weight of the fabrics on your shoulders, unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. It’s a luxury to receive items like these, to cover yourself up, and it’s only done in the case of mating.

You turn to him, loose strands of hair falling over your face, delicately dancing over your eyes, in a way that makes you have this innocence, natural beauty. “Where I come from, this is considered a marriage proposal,” you declare, using your arms to wrap around his bicep, using Rafe as a walking crunch.

The corner of his mouth lips, amused. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yes.”

“Let’s get you covered up first, and we can talk about that later.”

You nod, agreeing, and as you plant a small kiss on his cheek, Rafe pulls you inland, across his beach, to his car, and back to Tannyhill.

He’ll figure out everything later.

IMPORTANT INFO ABOUT TAGLIST AND UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @zyafics-library and turn on notifications!

✰ 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

— your camera roll as rafe’s perfectly pampered girlfriend

rating: sfw — cw: none

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

tumblr is the little town I visit everyday and you guys are my fellow village people

Happy Endings U: Masterlist

Summary and Character Introduction

pairings: collegebaseballplayer!Rafe Cameron x Reader, collegebaseballplayer!JJ Maybank x reader

series content: suggestive content, smut, graphic language, drinking, toxic ex-relationship, others I'm sure, 18+ MDNI

Chapters:

(1: Dear Reader) (2: The Gentlemen's Challenge)

note: to be added to the taglist for this series, please reply to this post. I will be capping it, and kindly request that you interact with each post related to this series in order to stay on the taglist <3

GULPS

FREAK LIKE ME .ᐟ

summary: you’re all leopard print, cherry lip glosses and the prettiest thing art donaldson had ever saw in his life. but behind all that, you might be the biggest sex freak he also had the pleasure to meet. inspiration: freak by doja cat.

pairing: dilf ceo art donaldson x younger fem reader.

cw: +18. mdni. 1.6k words. kinda plot kinda not. use of the word “daddy” sexually. mention of c!ckwarming. fem self-touching. slight chocking. oral s!x fem receiving. escort kinda reader.

You were a walking temptation from the very first moment he saw you.

Smiling with that sticky-sweet gloss coating your lips, gum popping lazily between your teeth, a leopard print dress hugging every curve like sin itself. Your heels clicked against the hardwood floors with every step, too high to be anything but unholy. You looked like a reward, like a treat—something made to be admired and ruined in equal measure.

Art Donaldson, forty-one, CEO, and already a man who had seen more than his fair share of pretty things, couldn’t help the way you caught his attention that night. Maybe it was the way you laughed too easily, how you tilted your head when he talked about business, all wide-eyed and sugary sweet, like you were just a little confused but so eager to learn. Maybe it was the way you wrapped your hand around his arm, all flirty and innocent, like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.

He should’ve known then—what kind of monster you really were underneath all that pink and pout.

But he didn’t. Not until you showed up at his place one night with nothing but that same gloss, a fur-trimmed coat, and matching panties that disappeared under the hem of a dress so short it could have been a belt. Not until you crawled into his lap and asked, in that breathy baby voice, “Can I just warm myself on your cock while we watch this, Daddy? I promise I won’t move…”

And he had said yes. Of course he had.

You were his weakness. A real, living indulgence. His little bunny.

He took you to dinners with his associates like a proud fucking trophy, watching them all try not to stare when you crossed your legs too slowly or licked sugar from the rim of your martini glass. You'd whisper something ridiculous in his ear—do they know I don’t wear panties when I’m with you, Daddy?—and he’d have to clench his jaw not to drag you under the table and shut you up with his fingers.

You were smart, and he knew it. Smarter than you let on. All that dizzy sweetness? The pouty lips and dumb-little-girl act? A weapon. A way to make him melt; say yes, buy you things, bend over backwards just for a chance to hear you whimper please again.

God, you were his undoing. And tonight? Tonight, you were in rare form.

He found you in his library, curled up in the window seat pretending to read some leather-bound novel you’d picked out just for show. One of his favorites—he knew you weren’t even five pages in. Not with your legs spread the way they were, one heel kicked off and the other dangling from your toes. No panties. Of course.

You were touching yourself, slow and lazy, like you were waiting for him to notice.

He didn’t say a word at first. Just stood in the doorway, watching the slow movement of your fingers between your legs. You were slick already—he could see it from here.

“You couldn’t wait for me?” he asked, voice low and rough.

You looked up from the book like you were surprised. Like he’d interrupted something terribly important. “I missed you,” you said, all sweet and breathless. “Needed a little help getting through this part…”

He was in front of you in seconds, yanking the book from your lap and tossing it across the room like it was worthless. His hand was around your throat next, not tight, just enough to tilt your head back and make you look at him.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” he growled, thumb dragging across your bottom lip, pushing past it like he owned your mouth. “Always teasing. Always playing dumb. You think I don’t know what you’re doing, doll?”

You moaned around his thumb, eyes fluttering as drool slid past your lips.

He shoved you back into the cushions and dropped to his knees, tearing your thighs apart like he’d been starved for days. And maybe he had. Maybe it had only been hours since he last had you, but with you, it never felt like enough.

He buried his mouth in your warmth without a word, lapping at your sweetness like you were the only thing that could quench his thirst. You tasted like need, like candy and sin and everything he wasn’t supposed to want.

And you made the prettiest sounds—high, desperate whines, hips bucking into his face despite your shaky little hands trying to be good, trying not to move. Trying to not tug on his hair to bring his head closer and closer to where you wanted him the most.

“Daddy—Daddy, I was just—oh fuck, please,” you gasped, head thrown back as he sucked your clit between his lips, relentless. The pleasure felt like a sin.

“Quiet,” he growled, voice muffled. “You wanted to be a brat, now you take what I give you.”

You came like that after a moment—fast and messy, thighs trembling, lips parted to gasp. Art got up from the floor while licking his lips, moved you from the window seat by picking you up, letting you rest onto his lap where it was the most comfortable.

Your lashes fluttered as you leaned into him, curled on his lap like you belonged there—because you did. You always did.

His fingers slid up your thigh, not to tease this time, but to just feel. Possessive. Big hand gripping you tight. You sighed like a spoiled kitten, satisfied to be right where you wanted to be: draped over Art Donaldson like you were his prize, his good girl, his best mistake.

“Why do you look at me like that?” you murmured, voice barely above a pout, head tipping back to catch his eyes. “Like you’re about to eat me up.”

He smirked, thumb brushing along the corner of your sticky lip gloss coated mouth. “Because I might do, again.”

You giggled, but there was a flush in your cheeks that betrayed how badly you loved it. How desperately you loved him—that dark, commanding look he gave you when the world melted away. When it was just you and him. Your age didn’t matter. Your fake ditzy act didn’t matter. The whispers, the disapproval, the stares from women who wished they were in your place—they didn’t matter either.

None of it mattered when Art looked at you like you were the only thing that could bring him to his knees. “Was it always like this?” you whispered against his jaw. “With the others?”

He stilled, brows furrowing slightly, and that quiet weight settled in his chest again. He tilted your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. “No, doll. Not even close.” And you believed him. You always had.

Because no one else got this part of him. The man who’d built an empire from steel and stones now crumbled with just a look from you. His patience unraveled when you kissed the underside of his jaw. His control broke when you wore something too short just to test him. And God, you loved to test him.

“You ruin me,” he said lowly, against your temple. “And I let you.”

You smiled, smug and soft, because you knew it was true. You were his weak spot. His sin. The pretty little thing he should’ve resisted—but never could.

And deep down, you liked the way he broke his own rules for you. How he brought you into rooms you didn’t belong in and dared anyone to question it. How he kissed your shoulder in passing at business dinners, fingers grazing the back of your thigh like a promise only you understood.

Art Donaldson didn’t need a reason to spoil you. He didn’t need an excuse to fly you somewhere just to watch you twirl in front of him in another too-tight dress. He never asked why you were always pushing boundaries—because the truth was, he loved it.

He loved your chaos. Your softness. Your hunger. And maybe, just maybe… you loved him too.

You didn’t say it. Not out loud. But the way your fingers curled into his shirt said enough. The way your nose nuzzled into his neck said everything. That greedy, bratty girl who made him lose his mind was also the one who made him feel like a man again—not just a name behind magazines or a suit in a boardroom.

“Come home with me,” he said quietly. You blinked, surprised. “I already live with you.”

“No,” he said, voice rough now, like he was trying not to say too much. “I mean it. Come home with me. Let me show you I’m serious. I want… more than this.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed, mascara still a little smudged from earlier sins. “More?”

He nodded, thumb tracing your cheek like he was memorizing it. “All of it. Not just the games. Not just the sex. I want you in my bed every night, not just when you’re bored or bratty or begging. I want you mine—for real.”

You swallowed hard. And maybe you should’ve played dumb again. Teased him. Danced around the words like you always did. But instead, you nodded. “Okay.”

Art leaned in and kissed you then—not with the filthy heat of earlier, but something deeper. Slower. As if he was making a vow with his mouth pressed to yours. You could still taste your essence from his lips, and almost moaned at it.

You were still his freak. His bunny. His good girl in leopard heels and too much perfume. But now, you were something else, too. His future. And he’d never let you forget it.

God bless houseofblve

𝙨𝙚𝙭𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙞 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞𝙩

𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘶

𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗓𝗐𝖾𝗂𝗀)

a/n: and then they all lowkey probably kiss 🤞🏻

Spirit {Teaser}

Synopsis ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

You’re in your first year of college. Lots of new faces, new people, new experiences and new feelings. It’s all overwhelming, but you pace yourself with the only thing you’re passionate about: cheer. One too many coincidences cause you to form an unlikely friendship with the star quarterback, which teeters on the edge of being more than just a friendship.

Warnings ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

Rafe is a soft boy in this one, slow burn, angst, drama, injuries, swearing, graphic detail of broken bones, eventual smut, semi public sex, fighting, breaking the law.

“Andddddd Touchdown! Rafe Cameron has done it again folks!” You hear the announcer bellow through the speakers in the stadium, a chorus of cheers sweeping through the crowds as the final point, the winning point is scored.

Your team cheers, finishing your exiting chant before you’re all running onto the main field, being swept by the crowds of students and parents coming to celebrate with the team.

You eyes find Rafe’s as he pulls his helmet off, hair falling out, forehead glistening. He smiles, chest heaving as he’s hugged from all angles by different people celebrating his win.

Still, his eyes are on yours. You raise your hands, giving him a slight thumbs up as a well done.

“Thank you, cheer,” he mouths, and you smile back, cheeks blushing a pink only he can make you do. Somehow, despite all the people around you, it feels like it’s just the two of you. Like always.

When his eyes are on you, it feels like nobody else could ever matter.

Note ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪

I’m really feeling the vibe of this one and will write it regardless but what do you guys think? I’m feeling sooooo motivated recently 🫶🏻

𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞?

𝗃𝗃𝗉𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗃𝗃𝗉𝗈𝗉𝖾

𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗍𝗌

𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 (closed): @my-name-is-baby @anacamofficial @nemesyaaa @thecoolermaybank @yktayy9669 @deerly-blvd @sqfewrd @blushmimi @barnesboo1967 @aawdrea @drewsswifeyy @lexvenuss @ethanthequeefqueen @rafes4 @beavee11 @wtfisastiles @pinkribboncoco @rafecqmeronslove @popou61 @lmaowhatt @emmaaas-posts @countryclubwhore @cokewithcameron @lili-swagalicious @multisection @mariamadison6-blog @icaqttt @harryzcherry @glenpowellluver @stelleduarte @klarxtr @kieeslove @vex-et-soleil @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @tqd4455 @marinrscomplex @arianagreenblattfanxx10 @loverliner @mirellef2001 @jjmaybankmylovee @defnotayonna @m0netbeauty @idiotussupremus @cyberkitty1 @gublerstylesobrien1238 @highladyofhogwarts @kaorisakamotofan @lil-sparklqueen @thesunflowersociety

a/n: for those requesting more jjpope 🩷🩷🩷

𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐔: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫

context: waking up alone in Rafe’s bed after hooking up the night before (female pogue reader)

warnings: a little nsfw so minors dni

character: Rafe Cameron from outer banks

m.list

taglist: @evelynffics