"Don’t love what you wrote? Keep writing. The goal of NaNoWriMo is words, not editing. That part comes later."
— India Hill Brown is an author with a passion for writing, reading, and all things literary. Her debut novel, The Forgotten Girl, has been nominated for an NAACP Image Award for Outstanding Literary Work in Youth/Teens and a 2020 ALSC Notable Children’s Book. She graduated from Claflin University with a Bachelor’s Degree in Mass Communications and with a Concentration in Print Journalism. In her spare time, she can be found curling up with a good book, a hot drink, and a snack. A self-proclaimed southern belle, she lives in the Carolinas with her husband and two sons.
Check out India on Twitter, Instagram, or Youtube!
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CAMP COUNSELOR ETHAN LANDRY BENDING YOU OVER A PICNIC TABLE AND FUCKING YOU RAW (IT CAN BE A SHORT SMALL NSFW BLURB) <3
It’s when all the campers are gone </3 obviously neither of you want to get in trouble, but the risk of someone showing up is the best part. And besides, you’ve been teasing Ethan all day! Due to your secret relationship it’s hard to notice the signs, but once you get the hang of it you’ll definitely see the flirtations. Your hands going across his crotch during craft activities, bending down in front of him whenever you need to pick something up. And don’t even get the boy started on the way you say “yes, sir.” In that beautifully angelic lilt of yours. You don’t even have to say the word sir; he’s only two years older than you, no more or less the same age. But you do, because you’re his perfect little angel.
And that’s incredibly true now as he pummels you on the wooden picnic table outside of his cabin :( your shorts are pulled down past the swell of your ass, legs spread as far as they can go in such a position, as Ethan’s cock fucks in and out of you. He’s grunting, hair mussed and sticking to his forehead in sweaty strands. He’s been outside all day, and it’s incredibly hot. So hes been aggravated. Right now is definitely the perfect way to relieve stress.
“Shiiiit, you love this cock, don’t you, slut?” He growls. “Imagine if another counselor saw us right now. I bet you’d want them to join in, wouldn’t you? Because you just want these slutty holes fucked.”
His words are making you practically scream. You know you shouldn’t be loud, but you just can’t help it. Your pussy gushes on him more, and he spreads your ass cheeks to watch your other empty hole clench around nothing.
“God, look at this ass. So fuckin’ sweet. Shit, baby, who knows? Maybe I’ll get Chad to fuck this slutty little hole sometime. Would you like that?”
You keen. You know Ethan only does this to rile himself up, to make himself angry so he can fuck you just like you need. And although your friend and colleague Chad is attractive, you only have eyes for the boy pounding you into the wooden tables right now. And that’s shown when you begin to shake your head and grind your hips down onto his cock.
“No, sir. I- I only want you, I swear!”
Ethan grins, a look in his eye almost insane as he breathes out.
“Yeah, bitch. You’re fuckin’ mine, now.” His hand goes down to possessively grasp your throat. “You’re never going to escape me.”
And when you’re filled to the brim with his hot seed, he pulls up your shorts. And with a slap to your ass, he makes you go find the other campers for your next art class. All while your pussy is dripping his cum, your swollen lips wet and sticky.
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“Love the fact that you love stories, that you want to tell them, and honor the messy parts of the process."
— Prince Shakur is a radical, multi-medium artist, organizer, and educator whose work centers on deepening black histories through queer, black, and liberatory lens. His journalism and essays have appeared in Teen Vogue, AfroPunk, The Cut, and beyond on the dangerous systemic and personal impacts of the carceral system, demanding complex truths about black political and creative icons, and gender politics in film. His visual work spans two Youtube channels: the award-winning travel and documentary series, Two Woke Minds, a channel dedicated to debunking the black writer/travel life, and a forthcoming short film.
Check out Prince on Twitter, Instagram, Youtube , and Spotify!
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He would never take those bracelets off 😭 now I kinda want a fic of counselor James and counselor reader how cute
Hi, I've lowkey been hoarding this for months because I wanted to wait until I felt summery enough, thank you for requesting!!
camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 693 words
“Land ho, boys!” A familiar voice reaches you over the water. Your eyes are closed towards the sun, but you feel your lips twitch upward. “Thomas, if you don’t help Callum paddle you’ll fall behind, and the last one to shore has to buy me a popsicle after dinner. Hey, look, we’ve got a mermaid on our beach!”
You turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to see James and his cabin of boys paddling toward you in kayaks over the lake. You lift your hand in a lazy wave.
“Oh, false alarm, it’s just y/n. Hi, y/n!” He raises an arm to wave back at you, wrist stacked with string bracelets made with care by small hands. You swear he’s got more from your own cabin than you have, but you don’t mind; James is a hero to most of the kids at camp, the goofy gentle giant who lets them ride on his shoulders when your manager isn’t looking and deals temporary tattoos out of his cabin during mealtimes. “Careful, Archie, mate, if she catches you rocking your kayak like that she’s going to hang you from the lifeguard stand by your toes.” The boys laugh, and James protests, “No, really! I’ve seen her do it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You roll your eyes and close them again, turning your face back towards the sky. It’s not until you hear the shushing of kayaks against the coarse sand and a shadow falls over you that you say, without opening your eyes, “Spreading rumors about me again?”
“They know better than to take me seriously.” James’ shadow moves as he sits beside you on the sand, and you turn your head again to see him. He’s looking over his shoulder at the boys, the lean muscles of his abdomen stretching and dusky skin shining with sweat in the afternoon sun. “Hey, whoever puts my kayak and paddle up, I’ll buy them a popsicle after dinner.” Shouts and bickering ensue, and James turns back around with a smile. “Where are your kids?” he asks you.
“In arts and crafts,” you say. “Figured I’d catch a nap while they were busy.”
He hums, setting his hands on the warm sand behind him and leaning back. “So, you didn’t just come here to see how fit I looked dragging a paddle through the water?”
You know James is only playing, but embarrassment tingles down to your toes anyway. “Not this time, sorry.”
“Mm, don’t believe you.” He shoots you a grin, and you look away under the guide of rolling your eyes. That thing is more glaring than the sun. “You coming to the bonfire tonight?”
“Don’t we have to?” you ask. It’s the last night of this session, and camp always closes out with a bonfire and s’mores for the kids.
“I mean the other bonfire.” At your blank look, James continues, looking rather too pleased to know something you don’t, “After the kid’s bonfire, when they’re all watching a movie in the cafeteria, some of the counselors are planning to go out into the woods and have a grown-up’s bonfire.”
You giggle. “Grown-ups? What are we, twelve?”
James bobs his head. “And we’re gonna have s’mores, and tell ghost stories, and maybe play truth or dare,” he says in an exaggeratedly animated tone. “It’s gonna be super cool.”
“It sounds super cool,” you agree, laughing. “I’ll be there.”
“Excellent.” James casts a look over his shoulder and starts standing up. “I should get back to my kids before they injure each other.”
You check the time and sigh. “Yeah, me too.”
“Want a hand?”
You reach up and James takes your hands in his, hauling you upright. Your head lightens once you’re vertical, a combination of your sun-warmed skin and James’ touch making you woozy.
“See you later?” he asks, releasing your hands and starting to back away as the shouting behind him grows more boisterous. “I’ll come find you in the cafeteria, we can walk together.”
“That’d be great, thanks.” You start walking away, too, ignoring the pleasant buzzing in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
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