acidfeens

Latest Posts by acidfeens

moodboards !!

ballet!challengers paranormal creatures!challengers hogwarts!challengers demigod!challengers

i miss challengers so bad can they remake it every year with the exact same cast and plot but make it a different sport every time

don't know what's going on with the drama in the rafe fandom, but wanna say: my account is not a safe space for trump supporters, homophobes, transphobes, racists, and zionists. idc if you don't "care for politics," i do, and everything i create is political.

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.

posting this here bc tiktok sucks and I really like how it turned out

this has become my absolute favorite app lately and i eat up every single fic ever, smau specially have me on a chokehold!! enough that i’ve been waiting to maybe kinda try do my own.

do you guys have any tips for them? what apps are easier? what do you wish you knew sooner when it comes to setting up? what are some no-nos when it comes to a smau? tell me everything and hopefully talk me out of it because i feel like i will SUCK🐙

and to all my fav writers that i usually stalk every single day, i love you guys thank you for giving me a will to live👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

MY FAMILY I MISS THEM SO MUCH………

GULPS

my show is awnnn you guys😋😋

ᴏɴᴇ- ʙᴏᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴏʀᴇ

𝘢𝘭𝘭-𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩

𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌: @anacamofficial @sqfewrd @bambigirl10 @sweetstrawberrianne @countryclubwhore @luzstarkey @lanasangelsz @jjasmiineee @tqd4455

@folklorefy @drewrry @bloodofadoll @my-name-is-baby @stelleduarte

a/n: aaaand here we go!

accurate artrick

nothing scarier than being a fan of a fic and then becoming mutuals with the author. like hi shakespeare. big fan of your fake dating au

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 🩷🩷🩷

#for science 💪🏻

PEDRO PASCAL on Jimmy Kimmel Live | March 24, 2025

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 🤞🏻

Dublin in ecstasy // wanted to write something silly for st patrick’s day so here’s this (two days late...)

paring: artrick x fem!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: oral m and f receiving, spitroasting, drunk sex, hastily proofread lol

a/n: this is highkey all over the place so keep in mind i am NOT claiming this to be my best work by any means lol... just something silly for the holiday (I say that and then I somehow ended up writing 3.5k words but that's besides the point)

The circumstances couldn’t have been more perfect. Art had decided to do a semester abroad in Ireland while Patrick conveniently was playing tournament in Dublin. And better yet, it all lined up over St. Patrick’s Day.

“C’mon man, it’s my fucking day after all,” Patrick insisted as he stretched out his arms as if basking in his own glory. The two men were holed up in Art’s dorm, a single, of course, since the Europeans always seemed to have more class when it came to university living situations.

“You’re playing the day after tomorrow and I’ve got a mountain of assignments I’m behind on. We’re not getting drunk tonight,” Art retorted quickly, shooting Patrick a stern glance. This hard front, though, swiftly melted when Patrick brought his hands to Art’s shoulders, leaning down so he was at eye level as Art sat at his desk.

“You don’t wanna help me celebrate my day?” He gave him a puppy dog stare, really trying to break down his best friend’s cool exterior. And he knew deep down that Art could be like putty in his hands if he played his cards right. Art’s eyes scanned Patrick’s dramatized expression, leaving him sighing in resignation.

“Fine,” Art groaned, rolling his eyes. “Can we just take it easy though?”

“Yeah man, sure. Whatever you want.”

Art should’ve trusted his gut when he had even an inkling that they wouldn’t be taking it easy. It was St. Patrick’s Day in Dublin for fucks sake. Patrick had outfitted them both with hastily made (sharpied on) “kiss me I’m Irish” shirts much to Art’s protest.

“It’s gonna be a let down when girls see me in this shirt and then hear my American accent,” Art huffs, tugging at the ends of the shirt.

“Nah man, it’s a conversation starter. You just have to be a conversation continuer. Plus, it’s straightforward. It’s a holiday. Girls will kiss you if your shirt says so.” Patrick seemed very confident about that.

“I’m like one-sixteenth Irish man, this feels like false advertising.”

“Forget about it, it’s not like I’m Darby O’Gill or anything, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Art sighed yet again, feeling more and more like this was a bad idea. His mind changed, however, when he and Patrick saw you from across the pub.

They’d been there for about an hour now, standing off to the side, pints of Guinness in hand, trying to feel out what kind of night it’d be. Of course, Patrick was eyeing nearly every girl in the place, most of them with their strong Irish boyfriends, though, but he wasn’t really interested until he noticed you.

You were notably without a boyfriend, currently arguing with the bartender about the pour on your Guinness. Both Art and Patrick were awestruck. The way you were so passionate was admirable, and it definitely helped that, to the both of them, you were the most beautiful girl in the place.

“I’ll be back, don’t wait up too long,” Patrick murmured, slipping away from Art and towards you.

Art stammered, trying to think of a way to stop Patrick, but Patrick just turned around, reminding him how he wanted to “take it easy” tonight. Damnit. Art was eating his own words.

“You seem like you know your beer,” Patrick mused, trying to seem nonchalant from behind you. You turned and he had to physically restrain himself from letting his jaw go slack. From a distance you were already something else, but up close, even a ladies man like Patrick would be flustered.

“Not really. I just know when they’ve screwed me giving me more air than actual drink,” you joked, taking the handsome stranger in as you turned around.

“I like a girl who knows what she wants.” It was excessively bold, but Patrick had already downed two pints, quickly going on three, and was feeling ballsy.

He watched as your eyes flitted down then, reading the messily written words on his shirt. You giggled. “Are you really Irish? You don’t have an accent,” you asked then, an eyebrow quirking up as you looked up at him.

“As Irish as you want me to be,” he chuckled before shaking his head. “No, really, I’m like 10% Irish. It hardly counts.”

A smirk flashed across your lips as you shot him a devious look through your lashes. “So I shouldn’t kiss you then?” That left him grasping for words, unsure where to take this. Of course, he wanted to kiss you. But his desperation (and slight drunkenness) was getting in the way of his sarcastic, charming banter.

Just in time, though, Art swooped in, much to Patrick’s dismay. “Hi, uh… I saw you from across the room, I just wanted to come say you’re, uh, really beautiful.” Smooth.

Patrick stifled a chuckle, giving Art a skeptical glance from behind you. Art’s eyes narrowed briefly as he glanced at Patrick, a subtle sign that the game was on, but you didn’t miss it.

“Do you two know each other?” You looked between the two of them, brows furrowing as you took a sip of your drink.

They had to give in, of course. The pair formally introduced themselves, gave you the whole spiel about how they go way back and they both play tennis, and Art was sure to mention that he was there for school (selfishly hoping that would impress you).

“So what are you doing in Ireland,” Art asked, ever the gentleman.

“I’ve taken a semester off of school to travel. I guess I’m sort of seeking new experiences; new opportunities, y’know.” You couldn’t help but notice that as you spoke both of them seemed to be hanging off of every word.

“New experiences, huh,” Patrick repeated, smirking before taking a heavy swig from his drink. He didn’t miss the wink you gave him from over the rim of his glass, but he decided to keep any more comments to himself for the time being.

Art kept the conversation going, mostly because he was drunk too at this point and he didn’t want you to leave. You talked for a while, the pub slowly getting more and more crowded (it was St. Patrick’s Day after all), until you were abruptly run into, causing you to spill your drink all over yourself.

“Fuck,” you cursed, the cold of the drink running down your body and soaking right through (and staining) your now see-through white shirt.

Neither Art nor Patrick knew exactly what to do, but Patrick ran to your rescue immediately, shouting at the guy who had run into you. Art had, more passively, made a break for the bathroom, getting paper towels. It was all no use, though. You were soaked; cold, wet, and uncomfortable. And it was looking like Patrick was on his way to a bar fight.

That’s how the three of you ended up stood outside the bar, you clutching your jacket around your body, Patrick pouting about getting you guys kicked out, and Art feeling sorry that he couldn’t help either of you more.

Patrick moved for his pocket, pulling out his pack of cigarettes and holding it in your direction. Though you didn’t typically smoke, you took one. It had been a night. As Patrick held his lighter up to the end of the cigarette, you two exchanged glances, still lust filled despite the unsavory events that got you here.

All of you sat in silence, taking steady drags off the cigarettes until you laughed, a dry, sarcastic little laugh. “Y’know what’s great?” You looked in their direction. “I don’t even live around here. I came cause I’ve got some friends here, but they all ditched me for their boyfriends and now I’ve got to take the bus home like this,” you spoke frustratedly, looking down at your state. That’s when a sneaky little idea came to Patrick.

“Well, my hotel’s only a 5 minute walk from here. Come shower there, you can dry off and then you can take the bus back to wherever it is,” he nearly insisted. Art shot him a look that you couldn’t quite discern, but Patrick didn’t seem moved by it. “What do ‘ya say? It’s not a bad idea…” he gave you those same puppy dog eyes he had given Art before, and damnit, they really did work. Patrick Zweig could convince the Pope to convert if he wanted to.

“Sure. Yeah, ok, lead the way.” Obviously, you knew deep down that this would not just be some sort of act of convenience and kindness, but hey, you weren't really opposed to that.

On the walk over, Art huddled up close to Patrick, whispering endless questions and concerns. "Dude, what am I supposed to do? Walk of shame back to my place while you get to fuck her?" He snuck a glance back at you trying to make sure you hadn't heard him. Patrick slung an arm around him, though, pulling him in closer.

"Don't you worry, Artie," his tone was mocking, but still somehow reassuring. "Let St. Patrick handle it. I have a feeling both of us will be getting lucky tonight." Art rolled his eyes, absolutely sick of the holiday related talk, but he took it in stride, trusting his friend (against his better judgement). It's not like they hadn't talked about sharing girls before. Maybe it really was that Irish luck that had sent you their way.

Back at Patrick's hotel, which was much nicer than you had expected (it was on his parents' dime, after all), you made a break for the shower, dying to free yourself from the confines of your drenched shirt. While you showered, the guys were talking strategy.

"So if it turns out she is only into one of us, then what," Art asked from the armchair in the corner.

"Then one of us gets to fuck her, obviously. If it comes to it, I'd get out of here for you." Art shakes his head at Patrick's crude words. "But like I said earlier, I think we could both luck out tonight. I mean, she did say she was looking for new experiences after all..."

"Right," Art quipped sarcastically. Both of them in their drunkenness had failed to realize that the water had stopped running, though.

"Imagine the noises she'd make...fuck man. And the way she'd probably give you the best head of your life. You saw her lips, right?"

"Jesus, Patrick, you've gotta stop,” Art sighed, a light laugh escaping though.

"But I'm right, right?" A silence lingered between the two before Art looked to Patrick, a goofy smile painted across his features.

"Yeah. Yeah, you are. I wouldn't make her do that, though. I mean, she seems like she'd be more into receiving than giving anyways, y'know..." And Patrick nodded. He knew exactly what Art meant.

Just then, the bathroom door clicked, making the boys' heads snap back in your direction. Now in only Patrick's t-shirt, which he had promptly stripped off and offered you when you got to the hotel, you padded out of the bathroom.

“Shit, did you hear that,” Art asked, embarrassed. Clearly, he couldn’t have been that embarrassed though, his eyes raking down your bare legs hungrily. Patrick, similarly, took no discretion in ogling you, leaning back and smiling like a cat who got the cream.

“You look good in my shirt, babe.” The nickname was maybe a bit much, but then again, when was Patrick ever afraid of too much?

Taking a seat on the bed, you smiled, looking down at the shirt again, chuckling lightly to yourself.

“You’d look better with it off, though…” he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you could hear it.

One thing led to another and now you, Art, and Patrick were all on the bed, Art kissing your neck and along your jaw while Patrick had lifted up your shirt and was paying close attention to your tits. It was unfamiliar, feeling two sets of lips on you at once, but there was something so euphoric about it too.

“Have you guys done this before-,” a slight gasp escaped your lips, cutting you off. “Shared the same girl?” Art hummed a quick ‘no’ against your skin, but Patrick didn’t even move to speak, only shaking his head ‘no’ as he continued to mouth at your hard nipples.

Patrick pulled away, taking a second to watch the way his best friend sucked at your neck, sure to leave a spot. Call him a cuck, but he felt harder than he’d ever been.

Nestling in behind you, he pulled you in away from Art so you were leaning against his bare chest. He dragged his hands up your waist to your tits, massaging them while placing little kisses along your shoulders. “C’mere Art…” he beckoned. Patrick’s big hands reached down, spreading your legs and holding them open.

Art practically scrambled up to you, a hopeless look in his heavily lidded eyes. You’d lost your shirt long ago, now only in a pair of lacy (soaked) panties.

He pulled them to the side, running a finger through your folds. His fingers were cold causing you to inhale a sharp breath. “Fuck…” he sighed, looking over your shoulder at Patrick. “She’s perfect.” Art slipped your panties down your legs, you helping a bit to kick them off your ankles, and pocketed them, not missing Patrick’s look of impressed approval. He leaned down, then, his fingers returning to your slick heat. He prodded at your hole, pushing one, then two fingers in, the feeling of you tightening around him sending a rush to his cock. He pumped in and out at a rapid pace, making your chest heave and your eyes flutter shut.

He leaned in closer to you, tonguing at your clit, absolutely obsessed with the way you were moaning with your head settled back against Patrick’s shoulder. He licked thick stripes along your pussy, fingers so deep inside you that it was hard to keep your legs spread, squirming and whimpering like a mess. “Fuck, Art… t- too much. M’ gonna… fuck, gonna cum.” That only encouraged him, pressing his face into you with so much dedication. You could feel his nose rub against you as he tongued around your hole, still filled by his fingers. Your hands tangled in his hair while Patrick kissed your neck feverishly, still holding your legs open for Art.

When you came, it was ecstasy. You felt like you were melting into Patrick as you leaned back into him, hips bucking up against Art’s face. Your legs were shaking as Art pulled his fingers out, still sloppily licking into you.

“Okay man, don’t get greedy,” Patrick murmured, pushing Art’s head away boyishly and pulling you up to sit up a little more. You giggled, still a little blissed out but wanting more, wanting to impress them.

“Here,” you started, moving onto all fours. “Let me return the favor.” Art was now in front of you, hard as a rock, while Patrick was left behind you, staring at your glistening pussy. You arched your back a little, ass in the air as you looked back at Patrick. “Well don’t just stand there…”

Patrick found his place behind you, the sound of his zipper coming down music to your ears as you worked on ridding Art of his pants. When you looked up at him, he was blushing, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol doing it to him or the situation at hand. He let out a shuttered breath when you slid his boxers down, his length slapping up against his stomach.

You bit you lip, eyeing his cock and noting the way his tip was pink and leaking precum. "Artie," you say, looking up at him doe eyed as if you weren't about to get spitroasted by two best friends.

"Y- yeah..." he replied, looking down at you pathetically, mouth hanging open as he waited for your reply.

"It's really pretty," you lilt before licking from the base to the tip. His eyes screw shut immediately and he makes a sound unlike any you'd heard before.

Patrick, clearly over the praise for Art, though, thrusts into you with no warning, bottoming out quickly and leaving you gasping for air. "Fuck, warn a girl next time..." you sigh as he stills, the feeling of being completely full overwhelming, but exciting.

"I'm so good I need a warning? I haven't even started moving, babe." Patrick speaks with a mocking tone, but you eat it up. Art, feeling left out then, reaches for your jaw, guiding your lips to his cock again. Everything he does, he does with a gentle, polite sort of touch, and you can admire that, especially when it's so starkly contrasted by Patrick.

When you finally take Art into your mouth, it's hard to miss the way his abs ripple while his cock twitches. You could tell he was long when you looked at it, but you realize just how long when his tip is forcing itself against your throat.

Unbeknownst to you, the two boys exchange looks, Patrick mouthing a '3...2....1' before they both started moving in tandem. Patrick's pace was quick and you could feel just how big he was by the stretch. Art, as if he wanted to outdo his friend, was now uncharacteristically bullying his cock down your throat. Though in true Art fashion, he combed a hand through your hair slowly, sweetly, as if he wasn't practically defiling you.

You couldn't help but gag, the sound only encouraging the two men. "She's so tight, man. You've gotta feel her pussy," Patrick huffed.

"You...were...right..." Art panted, lost in the feeling of your lips wrapped around him. "It's like she was made for this..." He almost felt guilty for being so crass... almost. But he was nothing if not easily influenced by his friend.

"Oh- she definitely liked that," Patrick slurs. "She's squeezing me so tight man -fuck." His hands were firmly holding your hips in place as the sound of skin slapping filled the room, his pace unrelenting.

And with each thrust from Patrick, you only pushed further down onto Art, now a drooling, gagging mess beneath him. You could hardly tell now, unable to focus in light of the mess being made of you, but Art kept a hand holding your jaw, caressing it even, as if to silently say 'good girl'.

Noticing your squirming, Patrick knew you were close. He reached a hand around to your clit, thumbing at it in swift circles and grunting like a mad man when you tightened around him. "Fuck, you like that baby? I know you're close... shit- I can feel it."

With Art still stuffing your mouth, all you could do was nod rapidly, pushing back onto Patrick now. Feeling him hit that spot over and over again, you lost yourself a bit, legs getting shaky as you moaned and whined around Art's cock. And then it snapped, that tight feeling in your stomach released as you came hard around Patrick's cock.

Patrick, reveling in the feeling, kept thrusting in and out, each thrust getting sloppier and more shallow. "Shit, don't worry babe," he breathed out heavily. "I'll -fuck- I'll pull out." But right as he moved to do so, you pulled off of Art abruptly, turning to face Patrick shaking your head. Your lips were swollen and glimmering as you shook your head desperately at Patrick.

"I'm on the pill," is all you said, turning back to Art then. You kissed at his tip before taking him back, deep down into your throat. When Patrick pushed back in, it was like the first time again. In pulling out for even a few seconds, he'd forgotten how good you felt, how tight and warm and wet you were.

And when Patrick's hips began to stutter, the feeling of him completely overstimulating you, he made sure to look Art right in the eyes. "Fuck," he gasped, staring right at his flushed, sweating friend as he came inside you, filling you up.

The image of Patrick, jaw slack and making eye contact, drove Art over the edge. Without any sort of warning, you could suddenly feel hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. He pulled out a bit prematurely, some of his cum spurting onto your lips too, but you made sure to look up at him and lick it up like a champ.

"Holy shit..." he mumbled.

"Holy indeed..." Patrick hummed, pulling out and settling on the bed behind you.

Once you were cleaned up, the three of you nestled into bed, you drifting off in their arms quickly, completely spent from the night's activities. Before either boy could fall asleep, though, Patrick startled Art by ruffling a hand through his hair.

"What's that for," Art asked, bewildered.

"I told you St. Patrick would deliver."

LMAOOOOOOOO

art 100% has crashed out over something like this

Happy Endings U: Chapter 4

(The Invitation)

⇽ last - masterlist

a/n: ding dong

taglist info found on series masterlist page! for updates on all my fics, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs <3

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

i can't breathe omg ⋆˙⟡

trying to break up with your fuck buddy, rafe

rafe paces. back and forth. hand running through his hair, jaw tight, eyes sharp with something between frustration and disbelief.

‘you want to stop?’ his voice is even, but there’s an edge to it.

you nod, arms crossed over your chest. ‘yeah.’

‘why?’ his head tilts, eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for an answer that actually makes sense to him.

‘i don’t like what this is turning me into,’ you say, voice steady. ‘it’s not who i am. and i don’t want it to be.’

he exhales sharply, turning on his heel and pacing again. ‘where is this coming from?’

‘i’m not blaming you for anything, rafe.’ you sigh, feeling the weight of this conversation sink into your bones. ‘i just realized i don’t want to be another girl in your rotation.’

he stops mid-step, turning to face you. ‘rotation?’

you hold his gaze. ‘you know what i mean.’

his jaw tenses. ‘you knew what this was,’ he says, voice low, careful.

‘i did,’ you agree. ‘and now i know i don’t want it.’

he drags a hand down his face, shaking his head. ‘i thought everything was fine.’

‘it was,’ you admit. ‘but i’m a ‘girlfriend’ kind of girl, rafe. i have boyfriends, not fuck buddies.’

rafe lets out a dry laugh, almost disbelieving. he starts pacing again, steps restless, like he needs to move or he’ll explode.

then, from outside, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

‘rafe! come on, man, we’re waiting!’ topper, followed by laughter and girls’ voices, high and sweet.

your stomach turns, but you don’t react. instead, you nod toward the door.

‘you should go,’ you say softly.

a pause, a sharp inhale. his jaw clenches. ‘we’re not done.’

‘i said what i needed to say.’ you swallow the lump in your throat. ‘you have girls waiting for you.’

he stops pacing. his expression hardens. ‘you think that’s what this is about?’

‘i think it doesn’t matter,’ you answer. ‘because you’re not my boyfriend, and you don’t owe me anything.’

his hands curl into fists at his sides. ‘you’re doing that thing again.’

‘what thing?’

‘acting like you don’t care.’

you inhale sharply. ‘i do care, rafe. that’s the problem.’

something flickers in his expression. for the first time, he looks uncertain. like this wasn’t supposed to happen. like he never considered the possibility of you walking away.

he starts pacing again, steps quicker now, frustration rolling off him in waves. ‘so what? you’re just done?’

you nod. ‘yeah.’

he stops. looks at you. then, after a beat, he says, ‘fine.’

you hesitate. ‘fine, what?’

‘i’ll be your boyfriend.’

you blink, caught off guard. ‘what?’

‘you want a relationship?’ he shrugs, like it’s the easiest fix in the world. ‘done.’

‘that’s not how this works.’

‘why not?’ his voice is sharper now, defensive. ‘you said you don’t want to be just another girl— fine. be my girlfriend.’

you shake your head, a humorless laugh escaping. ‘jesus, rafe.’

‘what?’

‘you don’t even want to be my boyfriend. you just don’t want to see me with someone else.’

his jaw tightens, and for the first time, he stops pacing. stands still.

‘you can’t just decide to be in a relationship because you don’t like the idea of losing me,’ you say, voice softer now. ‘that’s not love, rafe. that’s possession.’

his lips part slightly, but no words come out.

‘you don’t know how to do this,’ you continue gently. ‘how to be with someone in a way that isn’t just about control.’

he exhales, slow and deep, fingers rubbing at his jaw as he looks away for a moment. when he meets your gaze again, there’s something different there. hesitation, sure. but also something you weren’t expecting.

fear.

‘i don’t want to lose you,’ he admits, voice quiet now.

your breath catches. ‘then be better.’

rafe swallows. ‘tell me how.’

‘you already know how,’ you whisper. ‘you just have to choose it.’

the silence stretches between you again, but this time, it’s different.

it’s not heavy. it’s hopeful.

then, from outside, topper calls out again. ‘rafe! you coming or what?’

rafe doesn’t even look toward the door.

‘nah,’ he calls back, eyes still locked on yours. ‘i’m good.’

your heart was about to try to break out from behind your ribs.

his gaze softens. ‘stay?’

you hesitate. ‘rafe—’

he shakes his head, stepping closer. ‘if i say i can do this, then i can do this.’

you search his face for the lie, the excuse, the escape route he’s bound to take. but there isn’t one.

he raised your hands to his mouth and kissed the tip of each of your fingers in turn. your thumb, your index finger, your middle finger, your ring finger, finally your pinky, and then, your gaze caught the black cross that rested on the centre of his chest.

you wonder if his heart beats steadily.

his lips twitch, just slightly, into the kind of smirk that used to make you roll your eyes. ‘i’ll be the last boyfriend you’ll have,’ he murmurs. ‘you’ll see.’

your chest tightens, but this time, it’s not with dread.

‘okay,’ you whisper.

he grins, triumphant. ‘yeah?’

you exhale, a small smile creeping onto your lips despite yourself.

‘yeah.’

an. inspired by rory and logan.

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.

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Red And Blue

Summery: His canon event.

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: kinda gore at one point nothing too crazy, grammar mistakes.

A/N: I'm so sorry for the amount of mistakes this probably has but i cant be bothered to care more i just want to get this fic out. Listen to my tears ricochet as you read

Rafe had always been good at hiding things. He kept his head down, stayed out of the spotlight, and made sure no one looked too closely. But ever since the bite, since the powers, since the responsibility that came with it, lying had become second nature.

Especially to you.

It killed him, really. Every time he bailed on a movie night, ignored your texts, or showed up bruised and breathless with a half-baked excuse, he saw the confused and hurt look in your eyes. But what was he supposed to do? Tell the truth? That he was ditching every time to swing across rooftops, and fight criminals? No. That wasn’t an option.

Tonight was no different.

“Are you serious, Rafe?” You leaned your head down, phone pressed against your ear, voice sharp with frustration. “You're leaving me again. You promised this time. I know you don't like school events but just once please”

“I'm sorry” he muttered, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Something came up.”

“Something always comes up. What is it this time? And don’t tell me it's homework or family stuff, because I know when you’re lying.” 

“I just…” He exhaled, as if a weight was pressing on his chest. “I can’t tell you, okay?” He swallowed hard.

Silence. At first he thought you hung up but he could still hear a faint shuffling from the other end of the phone call.

The silence was somehow worse than you cursing him out for bailing.

“Why not? I thought we told each other everything.” your voice was softer this time, more fragile

God, how badly he wanted to. He wanted to tell you about the fights, the injuries he had to patch up alone, the weight of trying to be a hero when all he wanted was to be a normal guy. But if he told you he'd put you into too much risk.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So he did what he always did.

He lied.

“I just need you to trust me,” he said even if his chest ached. “Please.”

You thought for a long moment, then shook your head with a sad smile even if he couldn't see you. “You say that like I don’t already.”

And that hurt more than any punch he’d ever taken.

Because he knew he was running out of chances. The more he lied the more it felt like you were walking away.

“Welp” you said, popping the P, as if trying to lighten up the mood, before taking a small pause. “I'm already half ready and Gwen really wants us to go to the party so if you change your mind just call me?”

"Okay," he whispered into the phone.

"Bye, Rafe." The call ended with a soft beep, leaving him alone with the silence. 

“i suck” He let out a heavy sigh, groaning as he flopped onto his bed. The mask, half-folded over his face, slipped down, unfolding on its own. It rested against his nose—a quiet, relentless reminder of the responsibilities he has over the city.

"Heyyyy!" Gwen called out, sprinting toward you from the front steps of the school, where she had been waiting. Her face lit up the moment she spotted you approaching.

You hesitated, glancing at the building behind her, you could hear music thumping from inside. 

“Rafe is not with you?” she asked, looking around you thinking she might have missed him.

“No, you know how he is. He bailed again” you sighed.

“What is his problem?” She didn't wait for an answer and continued, “you know what? let's forget about him and just have fun” she looped her arm with yours and instantly began dragging you.

The homecoming party was in full swing, music pounding against the walls, and laughter echoed through the gym where it took place. It reeked of sweat, and the floor was already sticky as if someone had dropped bottles of juice on the floor and honestly if Rafe was here you would have begged him to leave with you already.

You tried to enjoy the moment, despite the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. You clutched a red Solo cup filled with non alcoholic fruit punch, swirling the liquid mindlessly. You knew you’d only take a few sips—just enough to look like you were part of the fun.

Beside you, Gwen nudged your arm with a playful grin. “Come on, loosen up a little! It's homecoming, not a funeral.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m trying, okay? This just isn’t really my scene.”

 “You mean you don’t love being crammed in a gym full of sweaty high schoolers who haven't  learned what deodorant is yet, with music so loud it could cause permanent hearing damage?” Gwen dramatically gasped.

“Shocking, right?” You smirked.

“Alright, no excuses. One dance. Then I’ll let you go back to brooding in the corner with your untouched fruit punch.” She grabbed your hand, pulling you toward the dance floor

You sighed but let her drag you along anyway , attempting to let go of the tension in your chest just for a few minutes.

But it didn't last long. 

A single phone rang loudly, cutting through the music—then another, and another, until the entire gym was filled with the sound of alerts. Conversations stopped, and a wave of confusion swept through the crowd as people scrambled to check their phones. Those who had left theirs at home leaned over shoulders, desperate to see what was happening.

It was an emergency alert.

A link attached to the notification led to a live report from a hovering news helicopter. The shaky footage showed Spider-Man in a brutal fight with something massive—a creature that towered over him. Gasps and murmurs spread through the party as people recognized what they were seeing.

Another lizard.

New York had seen its fair share of Dr. Curt Connors copycats, but this one was different. It was bigger—almost dinosaur-sized; its scaly skin was reflecting the city lights as it tore through the streets. The ground seemed to shake even through the screen.

“This… this one’s huge,” someone whispered, their voice barely audible over the growing panic.

The realization hit all at once. This wasn’t just another mad scientist playing with forbidden experiments and  chemicals. This was something worse. And it was heading straight for the school.

The battle outside was relentless. The massive Lizard roared, its tail whipping through the air, sending cars flying like toys that weighed nothing. Rafe gritted his teeth, webbing up debris and yanking himself through the air to keep up with the monster’s destructive path.

Every web he shot was torn apart and all his strength did nothing against the creature. Rafe's body ached, exhaustion creeping in faster than he wanted to admit. The Lizard was too strong, too fast, and it was pushing forward, heading straight toward the school. Toward you.

He forced himself to move, barely dodging a swipe of the creature’s paws. His vision blurred for a moment, his limbs trembling. His suit was torn. He was too weak. He wasn’t going to make it.  

Then he saw it. In that small moment of hesitation, that single breath he allowed himself to take, the monster had surged forward. Its massive feet slammed into the school celling, reducing the entrance to ashes. Dust and debris shot into the air as the walls groaned under its weight. His chest tightened—he had wasted precious seconds

A deafening explosion sent shockwaves through the school, knocking people off their feet. walls shattered, dust lifted in the air, screams filled the gym, all the lights were shut off putting the school in full black out and the once-lively party descended into chaos.

Everyone was running frantically, The entire building shook as you all felt the creature getting closer seeking destruction. All you could hear was the scream of people desperately trying to find an exit. 

“We have to go!” Gwen took your hand and began running but there was nowhere to run, the school was falling piece by piece.

The next thing you knew, the Lizard’s massive paw tore through the ceiling, debris raining down. Screams got louder and louder. It wasn’t just destroying the building—it was tearing apart anything in its path.

Even students.

You barely had time to process the horror unfolding before your eyes. The sickening sound of ripping metal, the desperate cries for help—it was too much. You wanted to run, to do something, but your body felt frozen in place, paralyzed by terror.

And then you saw it.

A lifeless hand, limp beneath the rubble. A shoe that hadn’t been there seconds ago. Blood smeared across the floor where moments earlier, there had been laughter.

Your breath hitched, your chest was tightening with a grief so sharp it felt like it might crush you. This wasn’t just destruction. It was a massacre..

You barely had time to process  it before a chunk of debris came crashing down—right toward you and a figure dressed in red and blue dropped from the ceiling and came at you as fast as light could travel.

In a blur of motion, you were flying through the air, held tightly against a strong chest. 

“You need to go!”  Spiderman yelled as soon as he dropped you back on your feet. But you couldn't hear him over the roars and the screams.

Before you could respond, a violent force knocked you both apart. You tumbled across the floor, the wind knocked from your lungs and the monster hovered over you. 

Spider-Man lunged, webbing the creature’s face and yanking it backward. “Run!” he shouted at you, desperation in his tone. He fought with everything he had, flipping, dodging, striking with all the strength he could collect. But the Lizard was relentless.

Then, in the chaos, you tried to run—but the Lizard’s tail lashed out, striking you hard. The sound of impact was harsh. You hit the ground with a sickening thud.

“No!” Rafe’s voice cracked, Something inside him snapped. Rage flooded his veins, and every ache, every ounce of exhaustion vanished.

With a furious roar, he attacked. His punches came harder, his movements faster. He webbed the Lizard’s limbs, yanking it into the ground with a force that shattered concrete. He didn’t let up. He couldn’t. Not after what had just happened.

Finally, with one last web the monster was tied to the floor unmoving and unconscious, the host of the lizard and succumbed.

But none of it mattered.

Rafe stumbled toward you, collapsing beside you before pulling his mask up to truly see you.

 “No, no, no—come on” he pleaded, his hands lifted your head up and he felt the liquid pouring out of the large gash behind your head. His blood stained hands trembled as he brushed the hair from your face, his vision blurred with tears. “Please, Y/n—”

Your eyes fluttered open slightly, breathing shallow. A weak, bittersweet smile ghosted your lips. “I always knew,” you whispered. “I always knew it was you.”

Rafe froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“I just… wished you told me,” You murmured, fingers barely gripping his suit. “I still would’ve… loved you.”

Tears streamed down his face. “No, don’t—don’t talk like that. You’re going to be okay. I promise, I—”

But you exhaled one last breath, your hand slipping from his suit. Your body went still.

“Please, no. i love you” he lifted your body further into his as if his warmth could bring you back but it didn't.

And after that moment the canon remained intact.

MY SHOW IS ONNNN GUYYYS!!!

Kildare Elementary: Part Four

Synopsis: 7 years ago, you and your best friend got drunk at a party and you ended up having a baby. You guys gave your relationship a shot, but he has always been in love with someone else. So, you guys remained friends after your daughter was born and you moved to the next town over. Now, there's an opening at the school all of your friends work at, and you are itching to take it. Perfect, right? Well, it would be if your classroom didn't somehow get moved next to your childhood crush and you can't tell if he is flirting with you or just really bad with technology. Inspired by Abbott Elementary and @zyafics HB:L!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader/Past!JJ Maybank x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@onelonelybitch @k-k0129 @callsign-mirage @akobx @lilahrosee @jaydaaasworld @mileyraes @ethanthequeefqueen @pogueprincesa @davinashifts333 @daysis-stuff @leather-n-velvet @dearluuna @naylanae-0308 @vviolets444rroses @hadids-world @athenalovesgoodies @venic-bxtch @justdamnpeachy @my-name-is-baby @marleymarleymarleymarley @linasdiaries @sage-burrow @pastryboyyy @sunflouer04 @inthelibrarybtw @aesthetic-lyss @acidfeens @jun1p3rlol @beebeerockknot @voidangxls @sweetlike-sugarplum @thewackywriter @icon8 @maeverae006 @masongetinmybed @evelynffics @popcorntales @iraslore @sluterainterlude @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @ijustwanttoreadlols @lcversvoid

Dealer!Rafe helping you pet a cat you saw because after all he is a gentleman to his girl and his girl only

( of course topper taking the video. He’s yous guys biggest fans)

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

my show is on!!!

—01 MEET THE CAMERONS.

MASTERLIST

Parenting Style:

You:

⌗ you’re the glue that holds everything together. you’re the calm in the storm, trying to create some order amidst the chaos rafe and the kids inevitably bring. you're fair but firm when it comes to rules and expectations, though you’re not afraid to bend the rules to make everyone happy sometimes.

⌗ you’re the one who handles the serious stuff, like school projects, making sure everyone gets to their activities on time, and having family meetings when things get too crazy.

⌗ your biggest challenge is managing the emotional rollercoaster that is rafe's unpredictable behavior while also balancing the needs of the kids.

⌗ you’re a very hands-on parent, emotionally available for your kids. giving them the space to grow but also have a warm side. you always know when to step in with advice or affection and when to let them figure things out on their own.

Rafe:

⌗ rafe tries to be the “cool dad” who doesn’t follow any rules, especially when it comes to his teens. he’s big on freedom, thinking his kids should have the freedom to make mistakes and learn from them. but when it comes to his younger kids, he's surprisingly soft. when you’re not around, rafe’s the one sneaking treats to the kids or letting them stay up way past bedtime because “who needs sleep anyway?”

⌗ rafe’s biggest flaw is his impulsiveness, which often leads to trouble. he's not exactly a role model in terms of structure, but his kids love him for his authenticity, especially when they’re old enough to understand how flawed he is.

⌗ while he's overprotective in some ways (especially with his oldest daughter), rafe does everything with love. he’s not the parent who will sit down and have deep heart-to-heart talks, but he’ll show love in unconventional ways, like fixing a bike or defending them fiercely when someone dares to challenge them.

⌗ rafe can’t resist showing off to the kids—whether it’s bragging about something ridiculous or trying to impress them with his "skills." but he’s deeply emotional when it comes to his family and would do anything to protect them (even if his methods are questionable).

The Kids:

AVA CAMERON (15)

PERSONALITY ava is headstrong, sarcastic, and fearless. she takes after both you and rafe—she has your intelligence and sharp wit but rafe’s defiance and impulsiveness. she’s known for pushing boundaries, especially with rafe, whom she has a love-hate relationship with. she’ll challenge him on everything, but deep down, she knows he’d do anything for her.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER DAD ava and rafe constantly butt heads. she thinks his overprotectiveness is ridiculous, but she secretly craves his approval. she’ll act tough, but she’s incredibly sensitive, and rafe is the first person she goes to when she needs emotional support (though it’s rarely obvious to anyone else).

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM you and ava have a special bond where you can communicate with just a glance. you know when she’s upset or hiding something, and she knows you’re the one she can go to when rafe is being... rafe. she trusts you even though she keeps a lot of her emotions locked away.

FUN FACT ava is known for sneaking out of the house with her friends or boyfriend, and while rafe might rage over it, you just give her a disappointed look, and she feels guilty enough to come clean.

MILO CAMERON (10)

PERSONALITY milo is a mischief-maker who often finds himself caught between his older sister’s drama and rafe’s wild ideas. he’s sarcastic but with a more dry sense of humor and often the mediator when things go off the rails in the family. milo is the kid who, when faced with chaos, will either laugh or attempt to solve it with a quirky solution.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS DAD milo is rafe’s favorite person to hang out with because milo can keep up with his energy and unpredictability. they do a lot of “guy stuff” together, like fixing things around the house, going on “secret” adventures, or talking about the things rafe pretends to be an expert at.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS MOM you and milo are like two peas in a pod. he’s very emotionally in tune with you and often tries to cheer you up when he knows you're dealing with rafe’s chaos. he knows how to make you laugh in the most stressful moments.

FUN FACT milo has a knack for getting out of trouble. if he gets in trouble at school, he’ll somehow find a way to talk his way out of it, often with rafe’s unintentional help.

POPPY CAMERON (3)

PERSONALITY poppy is the wild child, known for her tantrums and her adorably mischievous smile. she’s fearless, loves to run around the house, and has a particular love for barry (who, of course, enables her chaos). she’s the youngest, so she gets away with everything, and she knows it.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER DAD rafe is a softie when it comes to poppy. he’s the one who’ll give her anything she asks for, even if it’s a sugar-loaded snack before dinner. he finds her tantrums funny rather than frustrating, which makes you roll your eyes—but secretly, you love how much he dotes on her.

RELATIONSHIP WITH HER MOM you’re the one who has to deal with poppy’s “I want this NOW” demands. poppy has you wrapped around her little finger, and she knows it. she’s also the first to notice when you're upset and will crawl into your lap to comfort you, even if it’s just by offering you a cookie.

FUN FACT she has rafe under her spell and often drags him into her mischief.

FAMILY DYNAMICS

DINNER TIME at your house is a mix of chaos and love. ava will be sulking about curfew, milo will be chatting about his day with such enthusiasm that you and rafe can’t help but laugh, and poppy will spill her drink all over the table, leading to more chaos.

RAFE WILL ALWAYS try to sneak in action-packed movies (and somehow convince you to let the kids watch them). you’ll try to suggest a family-friendly comedy, but it’s usually a battle. in the end, everyone ends up in the living room, snacks everywhere, with rafe on the couch like a proud, mischievous child.

RAFE GIVES THE WORST, but most well-meaning advice. he’ll tell ava to “not let anyone tell you what to do” when she’s dealing with bullies at school. when milo gets in trouble for a school prank, rafe will secretly high-five him while you give rafe a disapproving look.

EVERY TIME ONE of the kids gets in trouble, rafe somehow shows up with a spontaneous adventure—a trip to the beach, a surprise boat ride, or letting them stay up an extra hour to do something “fun.” it’s his way of showing love, but it doesn’t always help their behavior.

YOU’RE ALWAYS THE ONE to solve the problems rafe causes—whether it’s calming down ava after an argument or cleaning up after poppy’s mess. but your kids know that, despite the chaos, you’re the rock of the family. your love for them is unshakable, even when things are a mess.

a/n: meet the maybanks coming tm <333

🏷️: @rafecameronswifeyy @papercranesandinkstains @akobx @delicatevamps @sereneera @ethanthequeefqueen @zuccheromorena @theanonymousloser @chalahyung01 @mystic-megumi @acidfeens @judesgfirl @rubiehart @callieyanderechan @amterasuu @smithieandy @theeternaloptimistt @marleymarleymarleymarley @lilygrxcem @fieryghxul @luvelola @aias-fxtns @starkeysbaby @brxght-world @drewsswifeyy

y’all my show is oonnnn

Kildare Elementary: Part Two

Synopsis: 7 years ago, you and your best friend got drunk at a party and you ended up having a baby. You guys gave your relationship a shot, but he has always been in love with someone else. So, you guys remained friends after your daughter was born and you moved to the next town over. Now, there's an opening at the school all of your friends work at, and you are itching to take it. Perfect, right? Well, it would be if your classroom didn't somehow get moved next to your childhood crush and you can't tell if he is flirting with you or just really bad with technology. Inspired by Abbott Elementary and @zyafics HB:L!

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader/Past!JJ Maybank x Reader

Masterlist

Taglist:

@onelonelybitch @callsign-mirage @akobx @lilahrosee @jaydaaasworld @mileyraes @ethanthequeefqueen @pogueprincesa @davinashifts333 @daysis-stuff @leather-n-velvet @dearluuna @naylanae-0308 @vviolets444rroses @hadids-world @athenalovesgoodies @venic-bxtch @justdamnpeachy @my-name-is-baby @marleymarleymarleymarley @linasdiaries @sage-burrow @pastryboyyy @sunflouer04 @inthelibrarybtw @aesthetic-lyss @acidfeens @jun1p3rlol @beebeerockknot @voidangxls

let my hubby out of the house for once!!

DREW STARKEY at the National Board of Review Annual Awards Gala